We had just returned from high school graduation on June 6, 2017, when my daughter ran into our house with a chilling declaration. “Something is happening,” she said.

Opening the front door, I immediately heard the sirens converging on our neighborhood in Sandy, Utah. As we instinctively ran toward the commotion, neighbors yelled out to us, “There is a shooter.”

Children — celebrating the final week of the school year — were walking home when violence reigned. As frantic cries rippled up and down the street, adults desperately pulled schoolchildren into cars and homes. A few kids ran away; some hid. It would be hours before some parents and their children reconnected.

Police tape and emergency vehicles had already sectioned off the street when I learned that my friend, Memorez Rackley,

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