What I Saw in Parkland, and Why It Still Drives Me
What is your Why? What drives you to want to do better?
I’ve waited a long time to share an experience I had nearly two years ago but now feels like the right moment, especially if it resonates with some of you.
In October 2023, I walked through Building 12 at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School, the site of one of the deadliest school shootings in our nation’s history. Despite decades in law enforcement and public safety, nothing could have prepared me for the emotional impact of that visit. The building remained preserved: shattered glass, visible bloodstains, desks frozen in time. It wasn’t just a crime scene; it was a place where lives were stolen, families were shattered, and a system failed in the most profound way. We walked through each room and were shown exactly where the victims were murdered. Nothing can prepare you for what you see in a moment like that.
Before Building 12 was torn down, the parents made a powerful decision after walking through the building themselves: they wanted as many school safety professionals, law enforcement leaders, and policymakers as possible to experience the site firsthand. Their goal was for these leaders to truly grasp both the urgent need to protect our schools and the profound system failures that contributed to this tragedy. This was the first ever visit of its kind, allowing those not involved in the case to walk through an undisturbed school shooting scene. It was a necessary step to help ensure such a tragedy never happens again.
What struck me during that visit is how many watershed moments in school safety have come and gone, yet we still struggle to gain the access and buy in necessary to truly change the systems that failed so many. Despite the lessons learned and the attention brought to this issue, there remains a persistent gap in how we prioritize, resource, and implement school safety measures. It’s tough to look critically at your own profession, whether as law enforcement officers, school leaders and others who failed in their duties. The list goes on. I encourage you to read the Marjory Stoneman Douglas report; it lays bare the facts we need to confront.
In the gym where we checked in that day, I was greeted by a parent of one of the victims. When I extended my hand to introduce myself, she instead pulled me into a hug, kissed me on the cheek, and simply said, “Please don’t let this happen again.” I still get chills when I think about it. Her words were not just a plea, they were a call to action, a charge I’ve carried with me ever since.
What struck me as much as the loss itself were the cascading failures that allowed it to happen: missed warning signs, communication breakdowns, delayed decisions, and people unprepared or unwilling to act. It was heartbreaking, yes, but it was also infuriating. These weren't abstract failures; they were specific, preventable, and they cost innocent lives.
That day solidified my purpose. I do this work because I believe deeply in the power of behavioral threat assessment to prevent violence before it occurs as well as other layered security measures. It’s not just a process, it’s a commitment to vigilance, multidisciplinary collaboration, and courageous leadership. I’ve had the honor of serving on the Marjory Stoneman Douglas Commission’s Threat Management Sub-Workgroup and am a proud member of ATAP. Both have shaped how I approach this work and continually sharpen my understanding of the complexities of targeted violence prevention.
But threat assessment doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It spans schools, workplaces, communities, and beyond. It requires not just systems, but people, people willing to do the hard work: to speak up, to step in, to intervene early. And that begins with leadership. We must hold our teams to the highest standards while equipping them with the tools, training, and support they need. We must also be willing to take a hard look inward and ask: What can I do better? What am I missing?
A Parkland parent recently said something to me about leadership failures that has stayed with me ever since: “Check your egos at the door.” It’s a simple message, but it speaks volumes. This work isn’t about turf, titles, or recognition, it’s about doing right by those we serve, especially those who no longer have a voice.
Each year, I attend our annual school safety conference in Florida, where we hear from the Parkland families and routinely engage in conversations. I make it a point to speak with them, share a beer, and express my appreciation for their continued fight to keep the fire burning, so that this never happens again. Their grief is ever present, yet they continue to lead with extraordinary strength and purpose. They remind us why this work matters. They hold us accountable, as they should.
We are making progress. The work we are doing, especially here in Florida, is the direct result of relentless dedication and hard work, driven by the fierce fire within the Parkland parents and the many committed professionals who refuse to settle for the status quo. Their passion and resolve inspire all of us to do better, to be better, and to ensure safer environments for our children and communities.
This is why I do what I do: to protect lives, to honor the memory of those who were lost, and to push for meaningful change across every domain of targeted violence. We must do better. We must not forget. And we must hold ourselves, and each other, to account, every single day.
I encourage you to seek out the stories and experiences that remind us all of why this work matters. Together, we can keep that fire burning.
