Fort Worth weeps for victims of church attack
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online
edition of The Fort Worth Star-Telegram newspaper:
Updated: Friday, Sep. 17, 1999
Fort Worth weeps for victims of church attack
By Ernie Makovy
Star-Telegram Staff Writer
FORT WORTH -- Mourning after Larry Gene Ashbrook's carnage -- with seven
dead,
seven wounded in a house of God -- Fort Worth leaders vowed yesterday
that the
city will survive, and police sought a motive for the reclusive
malcontent's
rampage.
"We grieve, but not as those who have no hope," said the Rev. Al
Meredith,
whose Wedgwood Baptist Church became Ashbrook's target. "It's a dark
day, it's
a heartbreaking day, but in the worst of our times, for those of us who
know
Christ, there is hope."
Mayor Kenneth Barr said the city will deal with the tragedy and move on.
"We're not going to let one senseless act of violence define who we are
as a
city," Barr said. "People responded. That's who we are. We are not that
gunman," he said.
A cigarette dangling from his mouth, Ashbrook strolled into the Wedgwood
Baptist Church with two handguns about 7 p.m. Wednesday and unleashed
his
onslaught on 150-200 people attending a church youth rally featuring the
Christian band Forty Days.
"This is all b-------. I can't believe you believe this junk, and [are]
singing
this," one witness quoted Ashbrook as yelling. Witnesses also reported
Ashbrook
as saying, "This religion is b-------," acting Police Chief Ralph
Mendoza said.
Ashbrook then exploded a pipe bomb in a church aisle and unloaded a
barrage of
random gunshots that hit 14 people, killing seven. Of the survivors, two
remain
in serious condition; one of them -- Justin Laird, a kicker on the high
school
junior varsity team -- is paralyzed from the neck down, his family said.
After the shootings, Ashbrook sat in a back pew of the sanctuary, placed
a gun
to his temple and killed himself, witnesses said.
He had two weapons -- a Ruger 9 mm pistol and an AMT .380-caliber. The
.380,
Mendoza said, was traced to the now-closed establishment Guns 'n Such,
where it
was purchased Feb. 15, 1992. The second weapon was probably purchased at
the
Traders Village flea market in Grand Prairie, he said.
Meredith said that now is the time for the church and the community to
remember
their faith. "Our hearts' desire is that the King of Darkness will not
prevail," the pastor said. God "weeps with those who weep, he grieves
with
those who grieve and he knows what it's like to lose a son."
Barr said that though such a tragedy can happen anywhere, "I assure you
that
yesterday anywhere took on a whole new meaning.
"This is one particular act by one particular individual who is no
longer
living and will never hurt anyone again," Barr said.
The bodies of Ashbrook and his victims were removed from the church by 3
a.m.
yesterday after painstaking care was taken to clear the area of any
bombs or
other explosive devices that Ashbrook might have left behind. No
explosives
were found, Fire Chief Larry McMillen said.
There is no indication that Ashbrook had an accomplice during his deadly
onslaught or that he was involved with hate groups or racially motivated
acts,
Mendoza said. A man who had been detained shortly after the shooting was
released a few hours later.
"We don't have any specific information as to why he committed this
crime,"
Mendoza said.
And that is what is so puzzling.
"At this point, we would have to venture a guess that it was random,"
Mendoza
said. "For me to understand him, I would have to be abnormal, and I'm
not."
Police identified the dead yesterday as Shawn Brown and Susan Kimberly
Jones,
both 23 and seminary students; Cassandra Griffin, Joseph Ennis, 14,
Justin Ray,
17, and Kristi Beckel, 14, all students; and Sydney Browning, 36, the
church's
choir director.
The wounded were identified as Laird, the football player; Robert
DeBord, Mary
Beth Talley, and Nicholas Skinner, 14, all students; and Jeff Laster,
36, Kevin
Gailey, 38, and Jaynanne Brown, 41.
Matt Parr, 14, a Southwest High School junior, was earlier misidentified
as one
of the wounded. He was not at the church duringthe shootings.
Police searched Ashbrook's home at 4821 Marshall St. in Forest Hill
early
yesterday for anything that might indicate why he went on his rampage.
They were more stunned by the condition of the home than by what they
found
inside.
Toilets were plugged with concrete, motor oil filled shower heads, walls
were
bashed in, and Bibles and family portraits were shredded, homicide
Detective
Curt Brannan said.
"It appeared as though someone in that house was in a violent rage. This
person
destroyed and shredded what many people would cherish: family photos,
possessions of deceased loved ones, the Holy Scriptures," he said.
FBI spokesman Bob Garrity Jr. said the search revealed a freshly cut
pipe, a
hacksaw, black powder and empty boxes for 9 mm and .380-caliber
ammunition.
Writings found included anti-religious statements, he said. "He had
trashed his
house. Furniture was thrown about, tipped over. There were big gaping
holes in
the walls, family photographs down and broken, and faces cut out of the
photographs," Garrity said.
Garrity said evidence indicated that the concrete Ashbrook poured down
the
toilet had been purchased just hours before the shootings.
"I guess, if nothing else, he was making a statement he was not coming
back,"
Garrity said. "He knew when he left the house, he was not coming back."
Garrity said witnesses' statements and the writings found inside the
home
indicate that Ashbrook fit the profile of the typical mass murderer.
"Mass murderers typically are disenfranchised white males," Garrity
said. "They
are asocial, loners. They have a very poor employment history.
"One of the things that these people do is they have this fantasy life.
One of
the motivators is they fantasize about this life that they don't lead.
"They know if they go out with a high body count, they'll be
remembered."
Garrity said some of the writings showed that Ashbrook had a difficult
time
holding a job and was paranoid.
"He is putting down: `I was fired from this job. They told me for this
reason,
but I really know it's for that reason,' " Garrity said.
Neighbors and friends described him as a loner who distinguished himself
to
others with his bizarre behavior and penchant for psychedelic drugs in
the
early 1970s. Neighbors knew him as a troubled child, saying he forced
one young
neighbor girl to eat roly-poly bugs. He was meticulous with the yard
around his
home, even pruning pear trees in his back yard three hours before his
rampage.
Patricia Berry, 14, said Ashbrook used to mow her family's yard years
ago. More
recently, she and her mother often saw Ashbrook sitting on his front
porch.
On Wednesday, Ashbrook was in his seat on the porch about 3 p.m. as
Berry
walked past his house to visit a friend.
"He looked kind of sad or distressed, maybe a little angry," Berry said.
Mendoza said the five people unaccounted for late Wednesday night were
later
identified as being victims within the church.
Restoration companies are on standby to get the church ready for
services
Sunday, said an official with the American Red Cross. Yesterday morning,
beneath a sky dotted with gray rain clouds, the Wedgwood neighborhood
awoke to
a gruesome reality.
Neighbors and church members began walking by the church, still blocked
off by
yellow police tape, and gazed at the scene, knowing what had happened
but not
wanting to believe.
About 10:20 a.m., a blond man made his way through the throng of camera
tripods
and milling reporters to a church sign on the corner of Wales and Walton
streets. He gently placed a bouquet of lilies at the base of the sign
and
quietly walked away.
The envelope read, "We Love You!"
Throughout the day, Tarrant County residents placed silk flowers,
carnations,
daisies and other flowers for the victims at the church.
Cards with "To Our Angels" and "We Love You" were pinned to the flowers.
Scott Spahr lives in Colorado Springs, near the Denver suburb of
Littleton.
Less than five months ago, his community was rocked by a vicious school
shooting that ended with 15 dead, including the two teen- age gunmen.
"My heart goes out and my love goes out to the families," said Spahr,
who was
in Fort Worth on business. "Become one, become a unit, pull together and
love
your family," he said.
Staff writers Deanna Boyd, Domingo Ramirez, Ginger D. Richardson, Rebeca
Rodriguez, Kathy Sanders and Bill Teeter contributed to this report.
----------------------------------
Updated: Sep. 17, 1999
Tearful friends, families remember those slain
By Rebeca Rodriguez
Star-Telegram Staff Writer
FORT WORTH -- High school students. A youth minister. A seminary
student. A
choir director who sang on every opportunity she found.
All were united in their love of God, and all took time to pray, sing
and
rejoice together Wednesday night at Wedgwood Baptist Church in southwest
Fort
Worth.
All were linked forever in an instant that night, as they were fatally
gunned
down in the sanctuary by a man they did not know.
Larry Gene Ashbrook, 47, blasted their religion while he blasted round
after
round of gunfire at them, and then he took his own life.
It is believed to be the deadliest shooting in Fort Worth history,
wounding
seven and killing seven.
Sketches of those who died:
KRISTI BECKEL
In the midst of death, life.
The family of Kristi Beckel has decided to use the loss of their
daughter to
help the lives of others desperately waiting for an organ transplant.
Yesterday, the Fort Worth family made the painful decision to take
Beckel off
life support and donate her organs and tissue, said Ron Ehrle, managing
director for LifeGift Organ Donation Center in Fort Worth.
"Our thoughts and prayers are with all the families affected by this
tragedy,"
Ehrle said. "We hope that Kristi Beckel's family decision to donate her
organs
and tissue will provide some comfort in the months and years ahead. We
are
truly grateful for this family's unselfish act to save lives."
Beckel, 14, died early yesterday at John Peter Smith Hospital. She was
shot in
the head during the killing spree.
No one in her family could be reached for comment. Neighbors declined to
talk
about her or about the crime.
LifeGift representatives and John Peter Smith officials met with
Beckel's
relatives family to discuss the donation of her organs and tissue.
Her relatives family told LifeGift members that they wanted her organs
donated
so that other lives may live.
SHAWN BROWN
Shawn Brown was a man on a mission.
The 23-year-old student at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary was
pursuing a master's degree in educational ministry.
"He was a very responsible, very attentive person, and he had a
particular
heart for today's youth and in helping them," said Mary Ellen Edwards, a
licensed master of social work/advanced clinical practitioner at New
Horizons,
a mental health facility that provides support to people suffering
severe grief
and loss and other mental health issues.
Brown worked part time there -- "sometimes that meant 40 hours a week,"
Edwards
said -- to support his education.
"I just have an overwhelming, incredible sadness and loss," said
Edwards, his
supervisor.
As a mental health program assistant, Brown would often transport
clients to
and from groups, help them with personal hygiene and generally
facilitate their
stay at the center.
Brown and his wife, Kathy Jo, had been married for about two years and
had no
children. Edwards said Kathy Jo Brown requested privacy and did not want
to
comment on the shooting.
"The children who died at Columbine now have a wonderful youth minister
in
heaven," Becky Roland, a friend and neighbor of the Browns, said in
reference
to high school shootings in a high school near Denver.
SYDNEY BROWNING
Sydney Browning was "one of those people who had boundless energy and
enthusiasm and this cutting-edge humor," said Renee Karriem, the
principal at
the school where Browning taught. "I just feel blessed to have her in my
life.
We loved her."
Browning taught at Success High School, a night school on the Trimble
Tech High
School campus. Yesterday, students and faculty wore black lapel ribbons
to
mourn her.
Browning, 36, who was single and was the children's choir director at
Wedgwood
Baptist Church, loved youngsters, her colleagues said. She was involved
in the
lives of her students, many of whom were high school dropouts, and
always
encouraged their success.
"She was the kind of teacher who greeted every child," Karriem said.
"She'd go
to the ends of the earth to help them make it. She was the kind of
teacher who
liked to send `good news' notes home."
Browning had been a teacher for the Fort Worth school district for five
years.
Assistant Principal Sheryl Hopper was near tears as she reminisced about
Browning, who she said made Christian music recordings and sang at
weddings and
funerals.
"We are all going to miss her" she said with a sob.
Browning had a master's degree from Southwestern Baptist Theological
Seminary
and was close to her relatives, who live in Phoenix.
One of Browning's students, Joe Alex Pulido, 19, said he and fellow
students
are in shock at losing their teacher.
"She was humble, I guess. Outgoing and funny," he said. "It's still kind
of
hard to believe she's gone."
JOSEPH ENNIS
"He was my only child," Donna Ennis, Joseph's mother, said, choking back
tears
yesterday. "He was a very special child and he respected and loved me."
Donna Ennis said her 14- year-old son had recently been talking about
being
baptized, and she wanted him to learn what it was all about. So he
started
attending meetings of the youth group at First Baptist Church in White
Settlement.
On Wednesday, he attended the rally at Wedgwood Baptist.
"I didn't want to believe it, but I knew he had been shot in the head,"
said
Donna Ennis, who waited until 3 a.m. yesterday for confirmation that her
son
was dead.
Yesterday, in the shade of the trees at the church Ennis had just
joined,
Hootie Woldai stood with his arms crossed, trying not to cry.
"Joey had his own way," Woldai said simply.
All of Joey Ennis' friends and classmates, the ones with whom he had
grown up
at West Elementary and in the close- knit environs of White Settlement,
the
ones with their faces wet from tears, all nodded their heads at that
description.
Ennis, they said, was a trash- talking basketball nut, a freckled boy
with a
chili-bowl haircut who hadn't started growing vertically but who held
out hope
for his dream.
"He wanted to be in the NBA," said Jennifer Cubillos, a 14-year-old
classmate
in the ninth grade at Brewer High School in White Settlement.
CASSANDRA GRIFFIN
Cassandra Griffin was only 14 years old when Ashbrook entered the church
and
took her life.
"The thing that stands out about Cassie is she was not your typical
teen-ager,"
said David Griffin, her father. "She tried very hard to please her mom
and dad,
and she had a very strong faith in God."
Born in Lockney, the North Crowley High School freshman excelled at the
clarinet, which she had been playing since the sixth grade. She also
tinkered
with the piano and the flute, and liked to sing.
Her family moved here from West Texas two years ago, and in that time,
Griffin
made many friends.
"She was always happy-go- lucky, easygoing," David Griffin said. "She
had a
real concern for her friends. She would pray for her friends, and she
was
disappointed when they would go out drinking."
On Wednesday after school, Griffin took some of her friends to her home,
where
they had dinner before attending the rally. Her mother, Tralissa
Griffin, was
at the rally, sitting about seven rows behind her, when the gunman
entered and
started shooting.
The thought still shocks the family.
"You try to raise your children in the church, and you think of all
places,
you'd be safe in church," David Griffin said.
Cassie Griffin's brother, 11- year-old Chris, has been dealing with his
grief
in his own way.
"He's been sleeping a lot, trying to forget," David Griffin said.
But the Griffin family can never forget their only daughter.
"She's a beautiful girl."
SUSAN KIMBERLY JONES
Susan Kimberly Jones sang in the Wedgwood church choir and was enrolled
for the
fall semester at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary.
Student Vickie Stewart, who lives in the Barnard dorm, where Jones
lived, said
many of the dorm residents were up late Wednesday night crying and
praying when
they learned that Jones was among the dead.
"It was a shock," said Stewart, 36. She said many of the students knew
that
Jones and about four other students had gone to the church for the
Wednesday
night prayer service and began to worry as they watched the news on TV.
Jones, 23, lived on the third floor of the dorm. Outside her room, No.
345,
visitors are greeted by a Bible scripture Jones had written on a small
message
board: "Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil. Cling to what is good.
Be
devoted to one another in brotherly love. Romans 12:9-10."
JUSTIN RAY
Justin "Steggie" Ray, 17, was a good kid who was starting to turn his
life
around after floundering for two years after a former stepfather left
his life,
his former scoutmaster said.
Known to many by the last name Stegner (from a former stepfather), Ray
was a
Boy Scout and a Cub Scout camp counselor. He seemed lost at Southwest
High
School until production teacher Tim Hood piqued his interest in film and
record
producing, said Malcolm Hill, Ray's former scout leader.
Six months ago, Ray transferred to Cassata High School, a private
alternative
school where he hoped to graduate in December so he could begin
fulfilling his
dream of owning a production company.
At Cassata, Ray's friends included Chris Roddan and Travis Laminack, who
were
updating the school's promotional video as part of Bobbie Su Nadal's
video
class.
"He was really goal- oriented. That's what I liked about him," Nadal
said. "He
took on the leadership role in the video class."
Nadal and Hill said Ray used his production skills to operate
audio-visual
equipment at concerts and PTA meetings, Cub Scout ceremonies and other
events.
"He was a genius with that stuff," Laminack said. "Media technology was
his
thing. He came over here [Cassata] but he kept going back to Southwest.
I think
Mr. Hood was like a father figure to him."
Ray and Hood were operating the band's sound equipment at Wedgwood
Baptist on
Wednesday night when Ray was shot to death, Cassata counselor Brandon
Pope
said.
As much as Ray had to live for, Cassata teacher Dawn Farmer said, he was
a
quiet thinker who died doing what he loved.
"I didn't know he went to church there, but it doesn't surprise me,"
Farmer
said. "He was quiet but he was deep. I think if anyone was ready to meet
his
maker, he was."
Staff writers Yvette Craig, Martha Deller, Mary Doclar, Renee Lee,
Marisa
Taylor and Chris Vaughn contributed to this report.
---------------------------------
Updated: Friday, Sep. 17, 1999
Gunman boasted of ties to Phineas Priests, author says, report shows
By The Associated Press
HOUSTON -- The jobless loner whose attack at a Fort Worth church killed
seven
people and led to his suicide was connected to a violent, anti-Semitic
group as
early as three years ago, according to the Houston Chronicle.
Author John Craig told the newspaper in a copyright story for today's
editions
that shooter Larry Ashbrook boasted of membership in the Phineas
Priests, an
anti-Semitic group that advocates killing Jews and minorities.
"When I heard about the shootings Wednesday night and I heard that the
gunman
was wearing black and killed himself, I knew it had to be a Phineas
Priest,"
Craig told the newspaper. "I called some people I know in the white
supremacist
movement, and they told me it was Larry Ashbrook."
Police on Thursday said they had not found a link between the
47-year-old
Ashbrook and hate groups. But Craig, one of three authors of the book
"Soldiers
of God, White Supremacists and their Holy War for America", said the
1996
interview had left him convinced.
Craig told the newspaper he attempted to notify Fort Worth police of
Ashbrook's
racist connections immediately after the shooting, but his telephone
calls were
not returned.
An Internet site set up by the Los Angeles County Sheriff Department
said the
group, which excludes women, fosters terrorism as it follows its own
interpretation of "God's law."
Experts said the group gets its name from an Old Testament Book of
Numbers
story involving a man named Phineas who kills a mixed-race couple to
appease
God.
Witnesses to the shooting spree at the Wedgwood Baptist Church said
Ashbrook
spewed obscenities and ridiculed Baptists before opening fire on 150
teen-agers
and adults attending a youth rally. He then sat down in a pew and turned
the
gun on himself.
"It all fits too well," said Craig, a former undercover operative and
private
investigator who lives in Houston.
Other Phineas Priest members linked to violence include Buford Furrow,
who
allegedly shot children in a Los Angeles Jewish day-care center and
killed a
Filipino-American mailman; fugitive Eric Rudolph, the alleged abortion
center
bomber also suspected in the 1996 Olympic Park bombing in Atlanta; and a
man
convicted for a series of Washington state pipe bombings and bank
robberies in
1996.
On Thursday, investigators were picking through Ashbrook's belongings at
his
residence in the city of Forest Hill, just south of Fort Worth. He had
vandalized the modest, wood-frame house he lived in by breaking holes in
the
walls, pouring concrete in the toilets, overturning furniture and
slicing up
family photos.
"The house had the appearance that he had left it and was not intending
to come
back," said one FBI official at the scene.
Distributed by The Associated Press (AP)
---------------------------
Updated: Thursday, Sep. 16, 1999
Gunman's life yields no key to carnage
By Kathy Sanders
Star-Telegram Staff Writer
FORT WORTH -- Conspiracy consumed Larry Gene Ashbrook. His brother
described
him as a paranoid schizophrenic this summer and took up a loaded
12-gauge
shotgun to keep him away from the brother's Wise County home.
Ashbrook would explode in violent rages in his Forest Hill neighborhood,
railing against children, life and his now- deceased father, neighbors
said.
His writings blame a vague, vast conspiracy, which included military
special
forces and the Central Intelligence Agency, for his inability to keep a
job.
The conspirators, he wrote, tried to implicate him as a serial killer of
women
in western Tarrant County.
The cigarette-smoking loner caused devastating carnage at Wedgwood
Baptist
Church. He opened fire there Wednesday evening, killing seven people and
wounding seven others. Then he killed himself.
"The big question in my mind is why such a vicious attack on such
innocent
people?" homicide Detective Curt Brannan said. "I don't know if we will
ever
know for sure."
The answers to such questions have so far eluded investigators, grieving
families and a city unaccustomed to such unbridled hate. Witnesses said
the
man, wearing sunglasses, dark green jacket, jeans and white hat spewed
blasphemous words at the people inside the sanctuary, belittling their
hymns,
their Christianity and their belief in God.
Ashbrook's deeply religious father contributed up to 10 percent of his
income
to his church in Arlington. But hours before the mass slaying, Ashbrook
ripped
the family Bible apart page by page, sliced family members out of
photographs
and used a shovel to stab large family portraits, investigators said.
Ashbrook, 47, the youngest of Jack and Ethel Muriel Ashbrook's four
children
was born in Fort Worth and attended Forest Oak Middle School,
Polytechnic High
School, O.D. Wyatt High School and Tarrant County College.
Some high school acquaintances recalled that Ashbrook, an art club
member, hung
out with a group of other teen- agers at Trinity Park.
Adults who knew the young Ashbrook while he was growing up in Forest
Hill
considered him a troubled child. He even forced one small girl in the
neighborhood to eat bugs.
"We lived next door to the Ashbrooks. I remember his mom, and he had a
sister
in a wheelchair," said Jane Lane, 38, of Burleson. "He used to make my
sister
eat roly-polies. He was always kind of a strange kid."
In 1971, Ashbrook was arrested on suspicion of marijuana possession but
charges
were never filed, according to police.
Military officials confirmed that in the late 1970s Ashbrook lived in
Jacksonville, Fla., where he worked for the Navy. He never married or
had
children.
Ashbrook moved back to Texas about 1994, some four years after his
mother died.
In July, his 85-year-old father died.
Ashbrook seemed to plunge into bizarre and violent behavior after his
father
died, acquaintances and police said.
Ashbrook's older brother, Aaron Ashbrook, called the Wise County
Sheriff's
Department on July 24, according to police reports, saying his younger
brother
was "a paranoid schizophrenic."
Homicide Detective Mike Carroll, the lead detective in the church
slayings,
said Aaron Ashbrook told Fort Worth police yesterday that he did not
know why
his brother opened fire on churchgoers.
"He knew nothing about any psychological disorder, nothing about his
hatred for
religion," Carroll said. "He talked about the fact that his brother
thought
there was a conspiracy."
Tarrant County Mental Health-Mental Retardation Services has no history
of
Ashbrook receiving treatment at any Tarrant County or state facility,
said
Shelley Buttgen, a spokeswoman for the agency.
A former employer said he vaguely remembers Ashbrook.
"He was all mixed up," said W.I. Spitler, former owner of Photo Etch in
Fort
Worth. "As far as we were concerned we couldn't get rid of him quick
enough."
Some neighbors said Ashbrook rarely spoke with anyone.
"Larry would give me these looks that I can't explain," said Venita
Hord, who
lives across the street. She recalled Ashbrook becoming upset several
years ago
because he thought people in the neighborhood were talking about him.
She said
he exposed himself to her and shouted obscenities at her and other
neighbors.
He was meticulous with the yard around his home, and he pruned pear
trees in
his back yard three hours before his rampage at Wedgwood Baptist Church,
neighbors said.
Investigators searching his Forest Hill home -- where his family lived
for more
than 40 years -- said it seemed ironic that he took the time to tend his
yard
after destroying the inside of the house.
"It appeared as if someone in that house was in a violent rage," Brannan
said.
"This person destroyed and shredded what many people would cherish --
family
photos, possessions of deceased loved ones, the Holy Scriptures."
Staff writers Deanna Boyd, Yvette Craig, Jaime Jordan, Bob Mahlburg,
Bryon
Okada, Ginger D. Richardson, Karen Rouse, Anthony Spangler and Bill
Teeter
contributed to this report]
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