Nick Bentley

GPC Student

Gun in the Classroom

Going to school every day during my seventh grade year was pure torture and it took everything I had to make it through each day sitting in boring class after boring class. The morning of April 17, 2002 seemed no different from any other school day as I tromped into homeroom, as usual completely unwilling to start the day. Opening my locker, I began pulling my books out when I felt someone tap on my shoulder.  Turning to see who it was, I glanced down and what I saw took my breath away and has forever changed my life.  The young man who had interrupted my daily routine was holding a gun.

Shocked and terrified, I knew that I had to do something, but at that moment in time, I was at a complete loss and I had never felt so alone in my life.  Luckily for me, my dad is in law enforcement and has spent many hours teaching me about gun safety, so I had an idea about what I was dealing with. Trying to buy some time, stuttering I asked him “What is that in your hand?”  He calmly answered “It’s a gun, man.”  I then asked him “What do you need with a gun?” His chilling response was “I’m going to kill that boy” pointing to a boy I had been close friends with since kindergarten. He told me I had better not say anything or he would kill me too. My legs were shaking so badly I had to sit down before I fell on my face.  I made my way to my assigned seat in our homeroom and he followed me, only to sit right behind me. He said he had the gun in his jacket, pointed straight at my back and if I made one move he would blow me away.  I sat in my seat, scared to death, trying to come up with a plan to save my friend and myself. Moments later the bell rang, and it was time to go to first period.

The young man carrying the gun was also in my first period, as well as my friend, the intended target.  In order to walk to the classroom, we had to walk single file past the administration offices. My foolproof plan was to jump out of line and run into the office screaming that the boy had a gun but he must have realized what I was thinking. He stepped behind me, aiming the gun at my back and told me to keep walking. My legs were threatening to buckle from under me. Walking into our computer class, I fell into my chair, barely able to breathe. Again my tormentor sat behind me. In this class we had assigned seats and my friend, the intended target, while completely unaware of the drama surrounding us, sat beside me. With the enemy sitting behind me, my friend and I were in an awful predicament. He could kill both of us before anyone could stop him.  He seemed to know the power he had as he sat in his chair and grinned an evil smile I will never forget and quietly whispered in my ear “If you make one move, I’ll kill you both and the teacher.”  He then got up and walked away for a moment, calling to one of his friends to meet him at  the supply cabinet.  I thought this would be the time to make my move, but the gunman leaned out of the supply cabinet and called my name, “Nick, I’m watching you.” 

When his meeting at the supply cabinet was over, he cockily walked back to his desk, sat down, leaned up and told me that his friends were going to watch me all day and if I did anything, I would be dead before school was out that day. Shivering, I sat through our first period waiting for the chaos to start and for my life to end.  My computer teacher noticing my abnormal silence asked me if I were all right. Terrified that my voice would squeak or I would begin to cry, I nodded my head and motioned to my throat as if to say I had laryngitis.  Thank goodness she was happy with my answer and we began our daily assignments. All the while, I could not focus on the work at hand and randomly typed gibberish trying to look like I was working but really trying to formulate another plan. Time seemed to stand still. I couldn’t understand what the gunman was planning and when he planned to begin his rampage.  When the bell rang for second period, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I knew I had to do something before a lot of people got hurt or worse died.

I walked, trying not to run, down the hall to the gym for my second period class. The young man with the gun didn’t have class with me this period, so I decided to take a risk and ask for help from my P.E. teacher. As I walked into the gym, I broke out into a full run, hollering for my coach. Pushing everyone else out of the way, I made it into the coach’s office, hollering that a boy had a gun. My coach immediately shut his door and grabbed my arms to calm me down. Once I had calmed down enough to be able to tell him of the boy’s plan, he and I walked down the hallway to the administration office where I repeated what I had told my coach to the Principal and Assistant Principal.  The administration acted quickly and with the help of local law enforcement locked the school down to begin their search for the perpetrator and the weapon.

Not long in to the search, they found young man but couldn’t find the gun because he had given it to one of his friends to hold for him. Methodically the police officers and school administrators checked each student until the gun was found. Both young men and the weapon were taken and placed in juvenile custody.

            Over the next few months, I testified several different times in court against the young man. To protect me from any backlash, the Deputy District Attorney would bring me in through a tunnel under the courtroom to hide my presence from the media. In the end, both young men were sent for six weeks to a disciplinary boot camp and expelled from school for one year for their participation that day. I have always felt that this was a very small punishment for the fear they caused that day.

            Many people have told me that I am a hero but I believe I only did what I was supposed to do.  Surprisingly, others told me I should have minded my own business.  These people were friends of the boys who went to jail. Because of the grief I received from some of these students, my parents felt it was in my best interest to move me to a new school. I’ve since graduated from a private Christian school and while all of this is in my distant past, I still think back to that day when I was only twelve years old and I had to make the decisions of a grown man. I have no regrets about the way I handled things but I would like to know why the boy chose me to show the gun to.