Written by Becka Thompson, August 28, 2025. Updated September 1, 2025.
Before I ever ran for anything, I was a teacher and a writer. When life stops making sense, I return to stories and to nature. That is where I went after what happened on Wednesday, August 27, 2025, morning at Annunciation, during the first Mass of the school year.
If you have ever sat in a pediatric ICU, you know the sound. Steady beeps. Low voices. Parents holding hands and hoping for morning. Families are there tonight. Some of the bravest people in our city are ten years old. We have learned since that two children were killed, and that many more were hurt. Their names are Harper Moyski, age ten, and Fletcher Merkel, age eight. Their families gave us permission to say their names and remember them as the bright, loving kids they are.
We also learned more about the scope of harm. The city’s update says twenty-one people were injured by gunfire, including eighteen children between six and fifteen, and three parishioners in their eighties. Officials say the injured children are expected to survive. I am holding on to that.
We heard our mayor ask the city to wrap our arms around the families and give them every ounce we can muster. I am trying to do that, in small ways that add up.
In the middle of all this, there were acts of love that make you catch your breath. A classmate shielded his friend. Doctors later found a bullet fragment near the boy’s carotid artery. He will need careful surgery, and he is still a child who jumps at loud sounds. That is what courage looks like at ten.
We have also learned more about the attacker. Police identified a twenty-three-year-old former student, who died by suicide at the scene. That fact answers some questions and leaves a thousand more. I am choosing not to give his name more space here. My attention will stay with the families and the children.
We like to say kids are resilient. Sometimes that is true. Often it is a story adults tell ourselves so we can keep moving. The quieter truth is that children carry more than we see. They need us present, not just hopeful.
Love is not a feeling you post about. Love is a cost you pay. It looks like older kids covering the younger ones under the pews. It looks like teachers moving toward the aisle to shield a doorway. It looks like a classmate stepping up when it counts. The line that keeps echoing in my head is simple. No greater love has a person than to lay down their life for their friends.
I cannot promise tomorrow. I can promise to show up. As a mom and a teacher, I will shoulder what I can so families do not have to carry this alone. I believe trust grows from small, steady commitments. You do ten push-ups today. Next week you can do fifteen. You study together each day. When the test comes, you feel ready. Politics loves big promises. Real life rewards kept promises.
If you need a place to breathe, come walk with me at Minnehaha Falls. I will be outside Sea Salt at noon this Friday, September 5. Anyone is welcome. If it helps, we will make it a weekly rhythm. We will choose a route that works for strollers and wheelchairs. If it rains, I will post an update that morning so no one is confused.
For the families at the hospital, and for those grieving the unthinkable, we see you and we love you. I am sharing verified support links so help reaches the right hands. I will keep the list updated as more information comes in.
If you are in immediate emotional crisis, call or text 988. Someone will pick up.
This weekend, Annunciation held Mass again. People prayed, cried, and stood together. It was quiet and it was brave. That is how healing begins.
I entered public life to serve, not to perform. I will not give you slogans. I will show up, listen, and keep the promises I can keep, especially the small ones. We will take the long walk together, for as long as it takes.
Peace,
Becka
Support for families:
Support Sophia and the Forchas Family’s recovery
Stand with Endre: Overcoming Tragedy Together
Help Lydia and the Kaiser Family Heal
