One father struggles for calm as daughter calls from campus

The phone rang about 3:16 Thursday afternoon. The caller ID displayed my daughter's cell number. I figured she was calling to say happy Valentine's Day, and to beg forgiveness for not sending a card.

"Hello," I answered, my voice cheery for a change.

"Dad, I just wanted you to know that I'm OK and I'll be fine."

No "hello," no "how are you?"

"Dad … the shooting. You don't know about the shooting? It just happened a few minutes ago at Cole Hall."

"Shannon, where are you?" I demanded to know of my daughter, a junior at NIU, obvious concern in my voice but not wanting to come off too stern.

"I'm here, outside, picking up girls from our (sorority) house. We're by DuSable near Cole."

As an NIU grad, I know the distance between the buildings is less than 50 feet.

"Shannon, are you safe? Are you all right? … Are you sure you're OK?"

"I have Kristen in the car with me now. She's crying. She said all these kids were running around. My friend saw bloody kids coming out of the building and people were frantic. A kid was bleeding and getting into a car. I think some kids were driving themselves to Kishwaukee."

"Shannon, I want you to get out of there right now and drive straight home. Get your sorority sisters and leave. Now."

"Dad, I'll be fine. We don't know exactly what happened, but we're hearing there was a guy shooting in Cole Hall. He jumped up on stage and started shooting. It's really bad. …"

She made it home safe, but one of her sorority sisters was still unaccounted for when I called her later that night. And my daughter was crying almost uncontrollably. The news got worse.

"Dad," she said in that rapid, halting, trying-to-catch-your-breath voice of a person who is crying really hard. The sobs were the type I've never heard before in her 21 years.

"My friend, Dan, from the Pike house is dead. Shot. His cousin lives in my house. She said the family was just notified. The hospital called.

"… I can't believe this."