Canadians Support Tumbler Ridge Community After School Shooting

When Jim Caruso learned of the tragic school shooting in Tumbler Ridge, he felt an urgent need to provide support. Without hesitation, he packed his bags and flew nearly 700 miles to the affected community. “I wanted to be here to bring some level of comfort,” he expressed, “to hug people, pray for them, and, most importantly, to cry with them.”

On Tuesday, a shooter targeted the town’s secondary school, claiming eight lives, most of whom were young children. This incident stands as one of the deadliest in Canada’s history, sending shockwaves throughout the nation.

In the wake of this devastating event, support for Tumbler Ridge has flooded in from across Canada, providing civic resources, grief counselors, therapy animals, food, and donations. Local hotels are fully booked, with new arrivals being redirected to towns over an hour away.

Having retired four years prior, Caruso dedicated his career to roles as a paramedic, pastor, and police chaplain—experiences that uniquely qualify him to assist in this moment of crisis.

“It’s hard, but I’m wired for this. I spent my life with first responders,” Caruso stated. “The police, firefighters, and paramedics—they’re just wrecked. They’re devastated. But so are the people here in Tumbler Ridge, and how they’re cared for right now is crucial.”

On Friday, law enforcement described the shooter as “hunting,” specifying that the individual was armed with two firearms and ready to engage anyone in their path.

The suspect has been identified as Jesse Van Rootselaar, a transgender woman.

Prime Minister Mark Carney, who visited Tumbler Ridge alongside other federal party leaders, emphasized the heroism of first responders and commended the bravery of students and teachers trapped within the school during the incident.

“Standing here together in your home, we wanted you to hear that Canadians are with you, and we will always be with you,” Carney remarked. “Whatever portion of your sadness that Canadians can help lighten, we will gladly do so.”

Caruso noted that the horrific nature of the attack would shape how counselors and support workers assist victims and guide the community as they process their grief.

“This isn’t akin to a car accident or a terminal illness. This was murder. Someone took lives in cold blood. Innocence was stolen,” he commented. “I’ve learned that, over time, life continues. Yet, it also takes a part of you.”

Caruso and his wife plan to spend the upcoming months in Tumbler Ridge, dedicating their efforts to emotionally support the community. “It’s difficult not to dwell on what might have happened if I were here earlier, how we could have offered compassion,” he reflected. “But there is hope. It may not feel that way to the parents who lost their children or to the victims that are gone. But for those who remain, hope exists. That’s the essence of funerals; they are for those left behind.”

During a vigil, Carney remarked that Tumbler Ridge is defined by a community that cares deeply for one another. “You held each other, as you are doing now. This is grace. It’s what we do for and receive from one another,” he said. “Open hearts in times of turmoil.”

Given the town’s small population of fewer than 2,500, first responders were acquainted with many victims, leaving an indelible mark on everyone in the community. In the Peace region of the province, when Tumbler Ridge suffers, nearby residents feel that pain profoundly.

“I simply wanted to be part of the healing process and to provide help wherever possible,” said Milo MacDonald, city manager of nearby Fort St. John, who arrived in Tumbler Ridge with colleagues. “Numerous individuals are eager to lend assistance, to alleviate suffering.”

Sending both substantial resources and heartfelt gestures, surrounding communities are responding to the crisis. MacDonald noted that lifeguards and skating technicians traveled from his community to ensure the local swimming pool and ice rink could remain accessible to children.

MacDonald, who spent 25 years as a police officer—including temporary assignments in Tumbler Ridge—expressed his devastation over the calamity that befell a community of “genuinely good” people.

“I’ve witnessed tragedies as a police officer, but nothing of this scale,” he admitted. “It’s incredibly challenging because my sons are the same age. I hope that situations like this remind us of our shared humanity and common bonds. In times like these, we must reaffirm our humanity.”

While the influx of visitors from outside the community has challenged local infrastructure, residents appreciate their support.

Lynn Way, 82, a long-time resident, shared, “After losing my son recently, I wanted to shut the world out. It felt unbearable. Though he requested no service, I held a gathering that drew people from far and wide—people I didn’t even know. It became evident how much my son was cherished. That’s what is happening in our town right now.”

Way described a “heaviness” in the air, but affirmed that Tumbler Ridge remains a secure place. “You can still leave your door unlocked. That hasn’t changed. We will recover, though it will take much longer for those mourning lost children and loved ones. All we can do is say: ‘If you need something, I’m here for you.’”

Recently, a logo featuring mountain peaks and a red heart, along with the words “Tumbler Ridge Strong,” has emerged as a symbol of resilience and confidence among the community members.

“What seems most difficult is that none of this feels real,” Way reflected. “It won’t sink in until the first funeral. Then, you witness grief unlike anything you’ve ever imagined. Grieving takes time, but the memories remain forever.”