Finalist: A Community Grieves
This Premier category recognizes a photographer’s extended story about the everyday life of people who make up a community. The purpose is to encourage attention to the small events in life that are often overshadowed by news and celebrate images that reflect the experiences and dreams of humankind.
A “community” may be defined as a neighborhood, a town, a commune, a rural agricultural area, a city subdivision, or socioeconomic region.
A Shelter In Place sign is illuminated as the search continues for Lewiston mass shooting suspect Robert Card in Lewiston, ME on October 27, 2023. 18 people were killed and 13 wounded in the assault and residents remained indoors in fear as the suspect was still not apprehended.
A Community Grieves
On October 25, life forever changed in Lewiston, Maine. A gunman enters Just-in-Time Recreation Center and opens fire with an assault weapon. Then heads to Schemengees Bar & Grill continuing the killing rampage that left in its wake 18 dead and 13 wounded. A massive manhunt continued for suspect Robert Card amid autumn leaves and deserted roads as people sheltered in place in fear. Red flags were there. Card’s army reserve unit reported his instability, allegedly threatening to do a mass shooting. It was announced he died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. There was relief, then the the painful process of mourning began.
The juxtaposition of small-town America and brutal violence is profound. Workers clean the steps of the bar, removing all traces of death. A pumpkin carving is held as a day of healing. A father salutes as his son’s name is read and townspeople hold candles, bathed in the glow of moonlight. The entire community shows up for a vigil. After each name is spoken, a bell tolls then eighteen sorrowful funerals begin. Elizabeth Seal uses sign language for ‘I love you’ during a eulogy over the body of her husband Joshua Seal, an ASL interpreter at a cornhole tournament for the deaf community that tragic night. He leaves behind his wife and four children, all deaf. Hundreds file past his casket to pay respects to a beloved man and attentive father to their ‘Seal pups’. His wife highlighted the need for interpreters in an emergency and her frustration seeking information those first hours. She understands the need for guns. ‘But an AR-style rifle. Why?’ she questions. At end of services, in an empty room, she quietly bids her husband a final farewell, tenderly touching his forehead, then brings the children to sign one last time before the coffin is closed.
Arthur Barnard’s grief is raw and unrelenting. He left his son playing pool just 10 minutes before the gunman opened fire. ‘Articles said people were holding other people that they didn’t even know until they took their last breaths,’ his voice breaking as he crumpled in tears. He, Elizabeth Seal and other bereaved survivors turned their pain into purpose, bringing the Lewiston community to Capitol Hill to lobby lawmakers. They came to share goals & grief in a club no one wants to belong to. Soon came news there was another mass shooting in Las Vegas. A cycle of grief begins again. The debate about gun prevention rages on while the body count rises amid 656 mass shootings this year.
