Columbine, by Dave Cullen, is the defining narrative of what happened on April 20, 1999 in that school, the events leading up to it, and the aftermath. It is stunning in what it achieves, both in terms of the detail in which it delves into the events and the people, and in terms of the thoroughness of the research.
Cullen starts with a second-by-second, shot-by-shot walkthrough of the day itself, then jumps back and forwards in time to show how the killers developed their plan (and there was a plan), and then the police investigated the massacre.
Relying on the huge volume of documentation amassed by the police investigation, extensive interviews with the survivors, investigators and just about anyone connected with the shooting, and most dramatically using Harris and Klebold’s own words from their journals and videos, Cullen is able to reconstruct the entire sequence of events.
He does so in a clinical, unemotional way, but not so distant from the subject as to appear cold and disconnected. Indeed, it’s pretty easy to spot which people he feels the most sympathy for, usually those he has interviewed over and over again in the decade since the shooting. Sometimes he gets a bit too close to these people, and I couldn’t help but feel that they were given a touch too sentimental a going-over, but that’s a minor gripe.
Perhaps the most important part of the book is the debunking of the most commonly held myths surrounding Columbine, and particularly the killers’ motives. They weren’t Nazi-sympathisers, they weren’t outcasts, they weren’t bullied, they weren’t Jock-haters, they weren’t gay, they weren’t part of ‘The Trenchcoat Mafia’, they weren’t Marilyn Manson fans, and they weren’t warped by violent films and video games.
Cullen perhaps lets his mask slip a little when calling out the media for jumping to such conclusions and repeating them ad infinitum until we can no longer think of Columbine without the above mistruths clouding our judgement. He explains why this occurred, but criticises the media for failing to correct themselves as quickly as they spread the rumours.
There was no single cause, nothing on which to hang blame for the massacre, other than the killers themselves. Harris and Klebold, particularly Harris, were fucked up. For want of a better way of describing it, they were born evil. Harris was probably a psychopath, in the clinical sense, and Klebold’s depression manifested itself in fits of rage.
Cullen strains to make the point that the parents aren’t to blame, and nor is anything else. He fully subscribes to the idea that some people are mentally ill in this manner, and some of those people act on their psychopathic impulses with horrifying results.
And the horrors at Columbine could’ve been worse. A lot worse.
I was completely unaware that the entire plan was to blow up the school, and everyone inside it. The guns were to shoot those fleeing the burning building. There were even extra bombs timed to go off in the car park when the police and media arrived.
It was only through the (relative) ineptitude of Harris and Klebold’s bomb-making skills that no more than the 13 died. The plan was to make McVeigh’s exploits look mild in comparison.
And the killing was designed to be indiscriminate. Harris just wanted to kill humans, no matter who they were. They didn’t target jocks, the religious or anyone else. They only targeted everyone.
As Cullen points out, “of course, Eric would enjoy killing jocks, too, along with niggers, spics, fags, and every other group he railed against.” This is probably the most disturbing aspect of the book, that someone can wish death upon every single other person on the planet.
The investigators and the media wanted to leap upon a why for the massacre, but for many years this couldn’t be provided. So many other theories were put forward, as listed above. Maybe the fact that it was indiscriminate killing was too horrifying a theory to put in print, to put into the public consciousness.
Because if it’s indiscriminate, how can we protect against it? That’s a real fear for many people.
I think we forget just how much this event, this massacre, changed society. Yes, something like 9/11 changed air travel and international relations forever, but Columbine created a complete distrust of the younger generation, which has yet to fade. Parents and the elder generation actively fear the young, the teenagers, nowadays.
But if this book does nothing else, it says that you can’t fear a generation, no more than you can fear a race, a kinsfolk, a religion. Certain people are just fucked up, and as much as we try to help them, or to protect against their impact, we can’t do so 100%.
The survivors whose stories are detailed in this book are its saving grace, in terms of a positive message. Almost every single one has grown beyond the effects of the shooting, and not it let define their lives. It brings a tear to your eye to read passages describing someone learning to talk, to walk, to feel again, but they do it.
They do it because they must, because they won’t let the actions of a mad-man dictate their lives for them.
Some do fall into the trap of letting it rule them. One father who lost his son has become a relentless campaigner for not forgiving, for not forgetting, and for pretty much seeking vengeance. His story is sad, to be honest, because he’s lost some of his humanity.
I can’t begin to fully describe the detail that this book goes into, as it is exhaustive. Journals are laid bare, videos are transcribed, police reports are pored over. I doubt that any line in the book hasn’t been fact-checked a hundred times over, and it’s this level of research that gives it its authority.
This is how every single-subject book should be: scholarly, yet journalistic. Detached, yet so vivid in its descriptions and eye for detail that you’re practically inside the heads of each person on the page.
It’s beautiful, but horrifying.
