“He had the best time ever,” Devon says of his visit to Arizona. He invoked his trademark humor and had pictures of himself hugging a cactus. “He was getting on with his life,“ Devon says. “Past high school. Past all that stuff. I mean, graduation was in what? A month?” —Devon Adams

Art credit: dreadfulnecrosis

“Do you feel any anger towards Eric and Dylan now?”

Devon Adams, who had been a close friend of the two: This is kind of a tough question for me. I was very good friends a long time ago with Dylan. A long time ago. And I was also friends with Eric my freshman year until I got scared of him. He threatened my life, and I pretty much said, no thanks, you leave now, I don’t like you.

Prom night, I danced with Dylan because he was one of my best friends. He had been my confidant. I wanted to tell him how much he meant to me, and I said, no, there’s tomorrow. And I never told him. And then he was gone and he took all these people with him, including two of my friends. And, every time I think about him and Eric I just… it makes me so mad, it just sickens me, that they would have ever done that. I wish we could go back to before it all happened. And I wish I could have done some things differently.” (May 9, 2005)

Credit: ColumbineConfessions

Source: It Still Hurts: For Columbine Students, the struggle isn’t Over.

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Q. Where did Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold fit in?

DEVON ADAMS: Dylan Klebold was one of my best friends. And when I hung out with him, there was just something that happened. I mean, whether they were wearing jeans and a T-shirt, or whether they were wearing their black trench coats, people would give them looks. Just like, “You don’t belong here, would you leave?”

Let’s block out last week when I say this – they hadn’t done anything physically wrong to people. I mean, they dressed different. So? They wore black. So what? It’s just, they were hated and so they felt they hated back. They hated back.

MEG HAINS: They’d call them freaks, weirdos, faggots. It was just stupid name calling, acting like little children. It’s like my cousins come home, they’re only 2 and 3, and they come home and start calling me names, calling each other names like butt-head and all these other things. They probably couldn’t handle it.

DEVON People called them fags. People thought they were gay. And that’s not right. I mean, even if they were – and which, they’re not – it’s not right to say that.

Columbine Students Talk of the Disaster and Life
April 30, 1999 – New York Times On the Web 

Disappointment and Biggest Regret – Dylan and Devon – Pt. 4

Robyn Anderson thought Dylan was going to Arizona because he liked the desert; Devon Adams because it was his ticket out of Colorado. “He had the best time ever,” Devon says of his visit to Arizona. He invoked his trademark humor and had pictures of himself hugging a cactus. “He was getting on with his life,” Devon says. “Past high school. Past all that stuff. I mean, graduation was in what? A month?”

   At prom Dylan danced with Devon Adams and made plans to see The Matrix on Wednesday, April 21st, which still perplexes her. “It could mean that they had planned [the shootings] and didn’t have a set date or something like that, you know,” she says. “It could mean anything. But it seems ‘cause Dylan never ever wanted to disappoint me. That was why he came to my birthday and confirmation party, even though he didn’t really want to. I mean, he didn’t like disappointing people. Like every time he and his parents would get in a fight, he felt so bad because he had disappointed his parents. He always felt bad because he had disappointed them in some way to make them angry at him. And I mean, that’s what’s like so weird about him making a date with me on a Wednesday when, if he knew that Tuesday, you know, this was going to happen.”

The Klebolds also called Dylan’s friend, Devon Adams, the day after the shooting to invite her to Dylan’s funeral. “I wasn’t there to talk to them, but they called us and I had told my parents if they called to tell them that I was there for them if they needed me,” Devon says. She ended up attending the funeral for slain student Rachel Scott instead, which was the same day. “Possibly my biggest regret in life is attending Rachel’s funeral and not Dylan’s,” Devon now says.

   Nearly six months after Columbine, Devon Adams called the Klebolds on what would have been Dylan’s 18th birthday, September 11, 1999.  
They still had the same phone number and she left a message.  She called to "Let them know I was thinking of them.  I was keeping them in my thoughts.  Let them know I hadn’t forgotten about them.  I hadn’t forgotten about Dylan, and I was still around.”

Devon also had a gift for the Klebolds and went to their house, where she spent a couple hours talking “about memories and stuff.”  She recounted how he helped her after her car accident.

   "I think they thought it was pretty cool,“ she said of the car story. ”We were T-boned while crossing an intersection, and Dylan stopped his car and ran up to my window and was just like, ‘Are you OK? Are you OK?’ and he was freaking out, and I just told him to go get my parents and tell them to come up here and get me.“ 

  Then Devon and the Klebolds got to what had brought them together: The killings.  And why Dylan did it.  The Klebolds were still considering, as Devon puts it, "The multiple personality possibility” but adds, “Just, I mean, any theory you’ve heard of… literally.  I mean, we’ve talked about all of them.”

   The Klebolds cried at some points while Devon was there.  “But it was probably because I was crying first; because I cried a lot,” she says.           
   When Devon talked with the Klebolds a year later on September 11, 2000, Sue gave her an open invitation to hang out with her and Tom to watch a movie, or use their pool or tennis court, but Devon was too busy to take them up on the offer.  The Klebolds also said they were putting together a photo scrapbook of Dylan.

    People sometimes have a hard time describing how the Klebolds look.  Devon remembers Susan wearing Dylan’s jeans after his death, which is tough because Susan is not especially tall, while Dylan was around 6-feet 4-inches.  But its also tough recalling much more.  Devon believes it may be Susan’s sadness and her eyes that always seem to be filled with tears.  “It’s sort of the thing were you don’t want to remember; you don’t want to remember pain, and Susan really embodies pain and she’s pretty much been through the worst that you can go through and so you don’t really; you try to block that out,” Devon says.  “It’s obvious in everything she says; in her voice, yeah.  In her eyes, and just her mannerisms.”

-excerpts: Columbine A True Crime Story – Jeff Kass

Crazy Chameleon but an Individualist – Dylan and Devon – Pt. 3

Devon never saw the violence when Dylan was alive.  When they whacked each other with foam noodles in the pool, it was all fun and games.   Other guys tackled her when they played football, but not Dylan.  And when she cut her leg on the field, Dylan flipped out.  He called a time out and washed her leg off.   He didn’t like dogs and was scared of Devon’s Siberian Husky, but dealt with the animal, again, out of respect for her. 

   “He didn’t want to disrupt anything, you know?”  Devon says.  “was always very respectful of everything.”

  Devon did see flashes of anger in Dylan.  It might be a “dumb” occasion like getting a bad test grade.  Or a spat over something inconsequential.  At first, Dylan suppressed the anger.  “I remember one time when he and I got in a fight cause I said something I shouldn’t have to him; I was just was really, really angry at him, I don’t remember why; I was just mad at him, and he just walked away, and I don’t know if he ever got really mad about it.  But he just walked away, and he just stayed away from me for about a week.  And then it was fine.  We talked about it.  It was fine.  But he was really, really upset for a while.”

She heard about Eric and Dylan blowing things up on the nighttime, “rebel missions,” or launching “tons of fireworks.”  She knew Eric named a bomb “Pazzie,” and another “Anasazi,” after an ancient people who inhabited the southwest Colorado and who some believe practiced cannibalism.  But she says, “Half of the student population knows how to build pipe bombs and stuff.  And everyone likes playing with fireworks.  I had no idea.  No clue at all.”

   Eric, Devon believes was the live wire who helped Dylan get from Mr. Nice Guy to Columbine killer.  “He [Dylan] was entirely one person around Eric and then someone else around everyone else,”  Devon says.  With Eric, Dylan was “Crazy Dylan,” she adds.  “Crazy videotapes in the basement.  Crazy go shoot people.  Make bombs Dylan.  You know?”  

   Eric was the tough guy filled with aggression, she says.  Scary and intimidating, he dressed commando and was never happy.  He might get a CD he liked, but would then get angry and kick something.  Eric was a lurker who tried to be like everyone else, but couldn’t connect.  The jerk who ticked people off, even Dylan.  It showed in Eric’s death when almost everyone who knew him said they weren’t really friends with him, or had had a falling out.

   "He [Eric] just kind of hung out and was a pain in everyone’s bum,“  Devon says.
   Dylan was the leader when it came to everything else in life.  ”If Dylan liked something, Eric automatically liked it.“  Devon says.  "Bands, clothing, all the different stuff.”

  It wasn’t so much that Dylan’s parents “missed” Columbine, Devon says.  They didn’t even see it.  He kept it hidden.  When Devon realized what was happening the day of Columbine, she knew it was Eric, although it’s still hard for her to believe Dylan was there too.  She can only conclude, “It was the two of them against everyone else." 

Dylan wasn’t much into lyrics.  When it came to techno, says Devon, "LIke, the more bass he could get in that music, like subwoofers and stuff, the better.  He really liked that.  A lot of it is mostly instrumental, which he liked a lot.  He didn’t have to deal with all the lyrics and stuff.  He wanted to make up his own mind what the music was about.  He did not like to be told what to be feeling.  He was an individual.  He always strove to be an individual.  He didn’t always succeed.  You can just lose yourself in techno music.  I remember nights staying up with him and he just drifted off.  Music shuts down the outside world.”  

   Sue Klebold says she once asked Dylan about a poster of shock rocker Marilyn Manson in his room and he replied that he didn’t really listen to the lyrics, but the music.  Another one of his favorite bands was the Chemical Brothers.  And at one point, he talked with Devon about going to one of their upcoming concerts.  But Devon notes, “He obviously never ended up going to it because it came in summer of 1999.”

-excerpt: Columbine A True Crime Story – Jeff Kass

 

Chaffeur – Dylan and Devon – Pt. 2

Devon thought Tom Klebold was “very fair-minded.”  “Like one time, Dylan came in two hours past curfew and Dylan had promised to be in on curfew – it may have been midnight – and his dad got really angry at him and I think he took away Dylan’s keyboard for two days, to his computer, and Dylan loved that computer.  Just made it totally not possible to use the computer for two days, but it was fair punishment.  I can’t remember his parents ever grounding him.  They just said you have to be in an hour early or something like that cause I think his parents knew how important Dylan’s friends were to him.

   His senior year Dylan gave Devon rides home at least once a week when her boyfriend (Zack Heckler) couldn’t do it. Devon paid Dylan $5 out of her own pocket but told him the money was from her mom because Dylan wouldn’t want to take her money. On those drives home, they talked about school, teachers and the swamp man toy that hung from his rear view mirror and spurted water out the mouth if you pressed the stomach.

   Six months before Columbine, Dylan and Devon were at a friend’s house watching a movie when kids next door shined a laser light on them.  Dylan, Devon, and their friend snuck up on the kids and flashed a halogen lamp in the window.  “So we were proud of ourselves because we conquered over the little fifth graders,” Devon recounts.  They rounded out the night “spaze dancing,” jumping up and down and listening to KMFDM or Nine Inch Nails. “he’s either really hyper or really kicked back,” Devon adds.  In a photo, Dylan looked stoned as he flashes two thumbs up, but Devon assures that was not the case. “I’m straight-edge [drug-free] and he knew it, so he didn’t do anything around me,” she explains.

   Dylan by that time had long hair that dropped below his ears and streamed out of his baseball cap, about the same way he looked the day of Columbine.  His favorite shirt was dark green with white lettering that read, “AOL: WheRe KewLz HaXORz ArE.”  Translation: “AOL: Where Cool Hackers Are.”  Explanation: It’s a joke because it’s easy to hack on AOL.

   One of Dylan’s favorite gifts to Devon was $10 cash. One time, Devon fell in love with an anteater Beanie Baby.  Dylan hated Beanie Babies but for Christmas 1998, four months before Columbine, he bought her one that was gray, white and black.  “Needless to say, I’ve collected anteaters ever since,” she says.  After Columbine, she toted the Beanie Baby across the country when she spoke on gun control alongside Tom Mauser, whose son Daniel was killed at Columbine. Devon thinks the anteater is good luck because it gives her confidence. “You know, ‘cause, in the line of what I do, the gun control stuff, I get discouraged, because there’s a lot of opposition, there’s a lot of people who aren’t willing to listen. And I’m remembering just why I’m doing it. To keep those guns out of the hands of another kid like Dylan who, I don’t know, feels he has no other way out, or something. Just keep him from having access to that deadly weapon.”

-excerpt: Columbine A True Crime Story – Jeff Kass 

Mr. Nice Guy – Dylan and Devon – Pt. 1

Dylan was intimidated by girls. He did the sound board for theater, where he liked being around other “weirdos,” but in general did not know how to interact with other people.  He liked learning, but not school.  He had girl friends, but never a girlfriend. (Tom Klebold says Dylan would go out with a group of friends; what Tom called “group dating.”)

It wasn’t a romantic relationship but in the summer of 1997 Dylan met Devon Adams through friends she had at Blackjack.  Devon, two years younger, would be entering Columbine as a freshman. Eric and Dylan would be juniors.

By the time school started Devon was friendly enough with Eric and Dylan to have breakfast and lunch with them.  Dylan was not a morning person, and would sleep until noon or 1:00 p.m. on the weekends if he could.  For breakfast he would eat donuts and orange juice, or soda pop.  Sitting in the middle of the cafeteria, Eric and Dylan would do class work.  Or at least pretend to.  They could quote every line from the movie Natural Born Killers and Dylan, usually dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, preferred to talk. (Eric’s AOL profile listed his favorite movie as the mysterious Lost Highway by David Lynch.)  Devon also says she was marked for speaking with Dylan: A jock would say, “Why are you talking to that faggot? Are you a dyke?

But the Dylan that remains in Devon’s mind is “Mr. Nice Guy. Mr. I’m just trying to make my way through high school.”  And funny Dylan.  When Devon was confirmed in the Lutheran church, Dylan gave her a yellow greeting card: “Now you can become like a voodoo priestess and have a temple in Africa and cast spells and shrink heads,” he wrote. Dressed in jeans, and a red Chemical Brothers T-shirt with a rainbow, he gave Devon her presents before the party started because a couple girls he didn’t like were going to be there.

At Devon’s sixteenth birthday in July 1998, Dylan wore a gray Chemical Brothers T-shirt and baseball cap with the Boston Red Sox symbol sewn on the front. (Dylan was obsessed with baseball.)  The cover of the pre-printed birthday card Dylan gave her reads, “What are the chances you’re getting a birthday present? Inside, the card says, “Between slim and nun.” A tall slim cowboy is next to a nun.

Ahh a nice dab of mildly distasteful prewritten, pointless humor to brighten yer day AAAA?!!,” Dylan wrote. And because Devon had totaled her 1973 Pontiac Ventura one week before her birthday Dylan added, “Happy B-Day. Don’t run me over or you’ll lose yer license and ill be pissed he he he.

Devon recounts, without any irony, how she had a murder mystery party at her house called “Lethal Luau.” Her mom made friend rice, and carmelized onions.  Devon pushed Dylan to wear a Hawaiian shirt; he would otherwise think he’s too cool for that, but wore one out of respect for her. He played a tourist named “Les Baggs,” and had a good time.

-excerpt: Columbine A True Crime Story – Jeff Kass 

Devon Adams was 16 the Saturday three days before the attacks. Though she was only a sophomore, she was at the senior prom, dancing to the classic ’80s track, “Take My Breath Away,” with Dylan Klebold. She was not his date, but they were friends – close enough that she wanted to tell him how much that friendship meant to her. She never did.

Now it is a lesson she has carried every day since. “Not only do you have to appreciate what you have, but you have to express that appreciation. If there are things that are left unsaid, it’s a lot more difficult to heal.”

She is 26 now – an information-systems manager for a solar-energy company in Denver and is, at times, downright perky. But any mention of April 20 can turn her mood in an instant. Driving by Platte Canyon High School – site of another Colorado school shooting – can be a jarring reminder. Yet those who know her background and try to be overly sensitive only make her feel awkward. I don’t have the right to be mad, because it’s not a big deal to everyone,” she says.

Last month, she shut her office door and put up a “Do not disturb” sign when a teenage student in Winnenden, Germany, killed 15 students and himself. “I feel isolated a lot,” she says. I feel very different [from other people].

There is also mixed emotion: At Columbine, she was friends with two of the students who were killed, along with one of the perpetrators.

“You stop trusting yourself,” she adds. “You stop trusting your own judgment.”  
Adams says the shootings forced Columbine students
“to grow up in one day.”

April 20, 2009 – Christian Science Monitor

Take My Breath Away – Berlin

Full article under the cut:

DENVER — “We are Columbine.” Before April 20, 1999, it was a high school spirit chant shouted at assemblies and pep rallies. Ten years ago, however, Columbine changed and the world changed.

Two students rampaged through Columbine High School, killing 13 before turning their weapons on themselves. “We are all Columbine” the phrase became. The 10 years since have brought school shootings deadlier than Columbine. Yet Columbine remains the world’s most iconic school shooting, its name affixed to all those that have followed.

A return to Colorado’s Jefferson County finds that the emotions of 10 years ago still animate each day. For former student Devon Adams, hearing about a school shooting overseas can feel so raw that she closes her office door to avoid people. Former Columbine teacher Rich Long now mows a golf course because, after the shootings, “it was time for me to get out of that profession.”

“Some people did not want [the shootings] to define them,” he says. “But … I think it changed everybody.”

For Mr. Long, Ms. Adams, and Kirsten Kreiling – who knew no one at Columbine and yet took it upon herself to raise $1 million for the memorial – April 20 is an anniversary that marks a fulcrum in their lives. And Adams thinks that’s the way it should be. “If Columbine did not change people, then it’s a really sad commentary on them,” she says.

For many of the people of Jefferson County, we are all still Columbine.

For a teacher, no more teaching

Long has found some peace mowing the greens of Homestead Golf Course. It is, in part, an antidote to what he witnessed on April 20. He had taught at Columbine for 27 years – all but two of his career. But a year after the shootings, he stopped teaching. “It just didn’t feel right to me,” he says.

There was a sense of culpability, he adds, because the shootings “happened on our watch.”

Long had reached 30 years in the classroom when he retired – the threshold that allows him to collect 75 percent of his salary. But the milestone had little to do with this decision, he says.

“I don’t know how good a job I did that last year, either,” Long adds.

He knew killers Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold. He had taught them computers when they were “wide-eyed freshmen” but later saw another side to each boy when they got busted for stealing school locker combinations. Yet when Long watched Eric and Dylan the day of the shootings, he saw something he can only characterize as evil. “That’s the only way I think I can describe Eric and Dylan’s actions,” he says.

In the days that followed, however, he also witnessed something equally as powerful in meetings with fellow faculty members: call it compassion. “There’s a certain force that the human nature can also use to deal with those situations,” says Long, who still lives in the area. “I found that very powerful. Just as powerful….”

Sense of isolation dogs a student

Devon Adams was 16 the Saturday three days before the attacks. Though she was only a sophomore, she was at the senior prom, dancing to the classic ‘80s track, “Take My Breath Away,” with Dylan Klebold. She was not his date, but they were friends – close enough that she wanted to tell him how much that friendship meant to her. She never did.

Now it is a lesson she has carried every day since. “Not only do you have to appreciate what you have, but you have to express that appreciation. If there are things that are left unsaid, it’s a lot more difficult to heal.”

She is 26 now – an information-systems manager for a solar-energy company in Denver and is, at times, downright perky. But any mention of April 20 can turn her mood in an instant. Driving by Platte Canyon High School – site of another Colorado school shooting – can be a jarring reminder. Yet those who know her background and try to be overly sensitive only make her feel awkward.

“I don’t have the right to be mad, because it’s not a big deal to everyone,” she says.

Last month, she shut her office door and put up a “Do not disturb” sign when a teenage student in Winnenden, Germany, killed 15 students and himself. “I feel isolated a lot,” she says. “I feel very different [from other people].”

There is also mixed emotion: At Columbine, she was friends with two of the students who were killed, along with one of the perpetrators.

“You stop trusting yourself,” she adds. “You stop trusting your own judgment.”

Adams says the shootings forced Columbine students “to grow up in one day.”

A caring community, found

Kirsten Kreiling was at work on April 20. When she first heard the news, she thought it must be a senior prank. By the end of the day, she was watching thudding helicopters in the sky above Columbine on the news.

The blond, plump-cheeked owner of Maverick Press did not even know anyone who attended the school. But “We all suffered a loss that day, one way or another,” Ms. Kreiling says. “That was a loss of knowing something like this could happen.”

Yet she also gained something: a sense of togetherness. Five years after the shootings, fundraising for the Columbine memorial had stalled at $1.2 million, Kreiling says. She stepped in to help raise $1 million more to show the families of the victims “this community still cared.”

Kreiling sees some positive changes in the community: She hears that many Columbine alumni have become medical and mental-health workers. There are scholarships in the names of the victims. “I’m much more aware there’s such a bigger, broader sense of community than I ever thought there was.”

Jeff Kass is author of “Columbine: A True Crime Story, a victim, the killers and the nation’s search for answers.”