Massey University communications student Hannah Merritt is on exchange at the University of California Santa Barbara and lives near the scene of the mass shooting that claimed seven lives on Friday. She shares her experience.
A student lights a candle at a makeshift memorial outside the IV Deli Mart where one of the victims of a killing spree was shot and killed . Photo: AFP
On Friday night I felt like I was playing a part in a movie.
I’d come to Santa Barbara six months ago from Wellington on a student exchange. I was really excited to become immersed in the Californian lifestyle. I wanted to go surfing, to drink Californian wine, and have fun at the “Number Two Party School” in the United States.
That night my flatmate and I were going to stay at home to drink wine and watch a movie. My other flatmate was going to go to a party. Everyone else had gone home for the weekend.
On our way to the liquor store my roommate and I reached the street where the shooting had started minutes before.
“Did you hear that?” Asked a man in his early 20s, visibly shaken.
We hadn’t, but we saw the police lights. Curiosity took a hold and we walked towards them. We stopped an older man standing in the road in a work uniform to ask what had happened.
“There’s been a shooting,” he said.
More gun shots followed his reply.
Police examine Elliot Rodger's crashed car the day after his rampage. Photo: AFP
Yet, it was as if my conscious didn’t want to accept that reality. Not grasping the severity of the situation, we continued to walk down the street towards the liquor store. Walking the exact path he’d driven.
The idea of gun violence had been a foreign concept to me. It’s something I’d only seen in the movies or on the television news.
It was when we saw people hiding in doorways, looking terrified, that the danger of the situation dawned on us. We ran for refuge in the liquor store, giving everyone we saw a wide birth.
The gun shots continued, and seemed really close.
Police just across the road from us hid behind their cars, weapons drawn. We couldn’t see past the bright lights of the police cars, but I thought the gunman might be just in front of them. We had to get out of there.
With jittery fingers we bought our wine, and ran home as fast as we could. We didn’t stop until we were safely inside our building. I don’t know why we still bought the wine, but it definitely helped. Mindlessly sitting and drinking gave us something to do while we organised our thoughts.
At home, we listened to the police radio feed and sat in silence. What seemed like only 20 minutes was three hours.
“We shouldn’t be in the liquor store. In the movies, gunmen always rob liquor stores,” my flatmate had said.
If we had left a few minutes earlier we would have been in his path. Thank goodness for my flatmates’ argument, delaying us for five minutes.
At home, we listened to the police radio feed and sat in silence. What seemed like only 20 minutes was three hours.
We are sitting in silence a lot. Letting our bodies and minds figure out how to respond to this. I don’t know how long this will go on for.
With just three of us sitting in a normally a loud, noisy apartment is now quiet. It’s been a struggle at times, but so is going outside.
Passing black cars in Isla Vista, loud noises, people getting too close. They all set me off.
On Saturday morning I watched Elliot Rodger’s “retribution” video. I cried and screamed. There were rumours about a Los Angeles gang initiation, but this is so much worse.
The idea of a fellow student doing this makes me feel physically sick. How can someone have such twisted, sadistic thoughts?
But reading his manifesto was so much worse. Reading how he would lure us into his “killing chamber” at random and slit our throats. Maybe torture us if we were good-looking enough. It terrifies me.
On Saturday night I ended up pouring my heart out to an Englishman in a bar in Santa Barbara and caught a taxi home in tears. I was so angry that everyone in the bar was happy whilst people were mourning 11 miles away.
Solidarity was what I needed, so I went in search of my flatmates. Heading towards the murder scenes, I couldn’t bring myself to walk the streets he had driven. I turned back and went home.
Hannah Merritt with friends in the Santa Barbara mountains earlier in her trip. Photo: Supplied
One suggested coping strategy was to wallow. That’s how we are supposed to deal with this. But with two weeks left before end of term exams, this is a really bad time to wallow.
The town is full of journalists in suits, huge news trucks, and a sombre atmosphere. There are shrines at the murder scenes. Flowers placed in the bullet hole at IV Deli, where Chris Martinez was killed.
I’m in my last three weeks of my study abroad at the University of California Santa Barbara and I don’t want Elliot Rodger’s rampage to be what defines my time here.
Normality is what I want right now. I want to go to class next week and have a normal day. I hate him for taking this normality away from us. We need it, I think, to be able to move forward.
