Shooting victim, witnesses recall events of tragic night
Church members remain hopeful after slayings

By Sylvia Carrizales
senior reporter

Jeff Laster still has a bullet lodged in the lower right side of his back as a daily reminder of the evening he stood face-to-face with gunman Larry Gene Ashbrook, who seconds later would go on a killing spree in the sanctuary of Wedgwood Baptist Church.

A year after the Wedgwood shootings, in the same building where seven people lost their lives and seven others were wounded during a youth rally, the congregation laughs at the Rev. Al Meredith’s jokes and sings along to hymns.

Al Meredith, senior minister for the church, leads more than 15,000 people in prayer during the 1999 memorial service at Amon Carter Stadium.

There are no signs in the church of the massacre that occurred just a year ago. The blood-stained carpet was ripped out and replaced, as were the pews where victims were shot to death.

Like the church’s physical appearance, the spirit of the Wedgwood Baptist Church seems renewed in the wake of the tragic events of Sept. 15, 1999.

Laster, 35, who returned to his job as facilities manager of the church four months after the shootings, said the tragedy has strengthened the community.

“There is a hope that as bad as it may get, He’s going to bring us through it,” Laster said.

After the initial shock subsided, people turned to God, said Candace Stockton, a nine-year member of the church and a teacher at Trinity Christian Academy.

“I think that we do grieve in hope, knowing that we will see those that died again,” Stockton said. “God is a god of all comfort.”

Chip Gillette, a corporal with the Fort Worth Police Department who lived near the church, was the first one on the scene.

“From the moment I entered the church to the moment he shot himself in the head, it was like an out of body experience,” Gillette said.

But Gillette, whose wife serves as the Rev. Meredith’s secretary, said he felt a calling to return to the church the next day.

People throughout Fort Worth offered consolation and encouragement to the congregation in a variety of ways immediately following the tragedy.

When he walked down the aisle of the sanctuary, he made a chilling discovery inside of a hymnal on the ground.

“The Lord gave me the impression that there was something there for me,” Gillette said. “When I opened the hymnal, there was a bullet in there. It was in the middle of the hymnal and the nose of the bullet rested on the words, ‘King of Kings, Lord of Lords and he will reign forever.’”

Gillette said some positivity can come from the violence if people have a renewed sense of hope and the acknowledgment of a higher being.

“Even though this tragic thing happened, I will use it for good,” he said. “It all comes together with a purpose.”

Rachel Williams, who started attending the church a week before the shootings, was on her way to the Wednesday evening prayer service when she became confused about the time of the service. She turned around and drove home only to hear about the killings on the news.

“It has bonded the church,” Williams said. “When one part of the body suffers, everyone suffers with it. It was tough.”

Andrew Desjardins, a 1998 TCU graduate and Wedgwood Baptist Church member, also had plans to attend the prayer service but was late.

“I heard a message on my answering machine from my roommate’s mom saying something happened at Wedgwood,” Desjardins said. “I was thinking, ‘Wow, God was definitely looking over me that day.’”

But it wasn’t until he attended a Sunday service at the church after the massacre that the magnitude of the tragedy set in.

“I had to be at church to bring the surreal image to reality,” he said.

As he watched the television reports, Desjardins learned of the death of 23-year-old Kim Jones, a TCU alumna. Desjardins is now planning to have a memorial tree planted on campus in her memory.

Another church member and Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary student, Scott McIntosh said he was too tired to attend the concert and youth rally in the sanctuary and opted to attend the prayer service in the next room.

“We started hearing the shots and we thought it was the construction on the gym,” he said. “We saw (one of the shooting victims) and we had a pretty good idea of what was happening.”

McIntosh did not have any family members in the building, so he stationed himself across the street at Bruce Shulkey Elementary School and “absorbed it all in.”

Laster was not fortunate enough to avoid an encounter with Ashbrook and was the first to approach him as he walked into the south foyer with a cigarette in his mouth.

“He looked like an angry parent,” Laster said. “He looked upset, and obviously, he was.”

When Laster was eight to 10 feet away from the gun, Ashbrook shot him once in the abdomen and then again in his left arm as he reached up to shield himself. He then turned the gun on a group gathered in the lobby, killing Sydney Browning, children’s choir director, instantly.

“I remember when he shot me,” Laster said. “I had my back to the group. I could hear their voices as they realized that there was a guy in the church with a gun.”

Laster stumbled out of the room and was torn as he decided whether to run into the building to warn the others or to go outside to get help.

“Part of my mind was saying, ‘You need to do something’ and the other part was talking to me saying, ‘You’re shot, you need to get help,’” he said.

Laster can remember the panicked voices of his friends as they were fired upon.

“I could hear what was going on with the group because I was standing five feet away from it,” Laster said.
He realized he was injured and could not be of much help to those inside, so he walked out of the church.

“I remember expecting to be shot in the back,” Laster said. “It didn’t happen.”

Patty Cornelius, a Southwest High School graduate, solemnly reads the victims’ names while a schoolmate rings a bell at the 1999 memorial service at Amon Carter Stadium.

Once outside, he surveyed his wounds, which had not yet shown signs of blood.

“I lost half of my blood, but I bled internally,” he said.

Because Laster was the first to be shot, he did not experience the horror of seeing his friends and other church members shot and killed inside the sanctuary.

“Some of the people who are dealing with the emotions are those that were looking at him and seeing him shooting at them,” Laster said.

Laster spent two weeks of his month-long stay in the intensive care unit of John Peter Smith Hospital. When he finally decided to return to the church six weeks later, he asked to hear all the details of what happened.

“It helps me to process it,” he said. “I didn’t want to sit and wonder what happened.”

Laster said when he learned from doctors that he almost died, it caught him off guard.

He credits being shot with easing his fears of death.

“I think I do appreciate things a little more,” he said. “I don’t fear death as much as I used to. Part of it is the reassurance that knowing had I died, I would have stepped into heaven.”

Sylvia Carrizales
sylviacarrizales@hotmail.com

By Sylvia Carrizales
senior reporter

It was like Kim Jones was here again. Her sweet voice often rose and grew passionate as she preached a message of hope Thursday in the chapel of the Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary.

Although it was the image of the slain 23-year-old coming through a video screen, it is one way her family hopes to carry on the dream she had to share her faith with the world.

Jones, a 1998 TCU graduate, was one of seven shot and killed in Wedgwood Baptist Church on Sept. 15, 1999 as gunman Larry Gene Ashbrook went on a rampage that concluded when he took his own life.

The audience viewed, “Going Home: The Journey of Kim Jones,” a video that included a recap of the tragedy by the Rev. Al Meredith, interviews with family and friends and a July 16, 1999 talk that Kim delivered to teens in Saudi Arabia.

Kim’s parents, Stephanie and Stan Jones, flew in from their home in Saudi Arabia. Her brother, Tim, a TCU student, also attended the viewing.

Her mother spoke about the last time she saw her daughter, her life with her daughter and how she was changed by the loss.

Stephanie Jones began by saying she was not a professional speaker, just a “mom who lost her daughter.”

“As her earthly parents, we would prefer to have her here, but her heavenly father took her home,” she said. “We must remember that seven kids gave their lives for what they believe in. We need to realize the urgency to share our hope of Jesus with everyone.”

The video began with an excerpt from Kim’s 22-minute speech, “The Path of Purpose,” with words that were eerily prophetic.

“We’re all just travelers,” Jones said. “We’re on a journey and we’re headed for home. We are strangers and aliens in this place and someday this body of mine will pass away.”

Jones’ hall director Kristy Haddick and her friend, D.J. Koutnik talk about how Kim formed a Bible study for the Delta Gamma sorority because her wish was for “all the DG’s to know about the Lord.”

Shalene Kelly, a junior English major and Delta Gamma member, said Kim spoke passionately about Christianity and how it changed her life.

“Kim was very bold about her faith and because of the whole tragedy, I have a new boldness,” Kelly said.
Kelly said she never realized the night they met for Tuesday Bible study would be the last time she saw Kim alive.

“No one is guaranteed a tomorrow,” Kelly said. “The thing with Kim is that she knew where she was going — she was going home.”

Her mother said the last time she saw Kim was when she was returning home after a summer visit to Saudi Arabia.

“The last time that we hugged and said good-bye, we cried and that was unusual,” Jones said. “I think that God was trying to prepare me for her death.”

After the video, Jones shared excerpts from her daughter’s journal. One entry, six months before her death, was particularly poignant.

“I can’t wait until I’m 80, looking back on my life,” she wrote. “Will I get married? Will I go to jail for Jesus? My prayer is that I will follow you all the days of my life.”

At the time of her death, Kim had just begun her first semester at the seminary and students who had never met her said they were moved by the video.

John Norton, a seminary student who will graduate in May, said he shared Kim’s interest in backpacking and regrets not meeting her.

“I’m amazed at the type of person she was,” he said after the viewing. “This was the first time I got a look at her life. It makes me think how many of the people that are out there that could make my life better. It’s just too bad that our paths didn’t cross.”

As Stephanie Jones contemplated the affect the ordeal had on her, she began to cry.

“I‘ve totally changed,” she said in between tears. “It makes me realize how fragile life is and how you need to live each moment and appreciate your family and friends.”

Kim’s brother, Tim, said he would like for others to not let the story of the Wedgwood tragedy and his sister’s death bring them down.

“I wanted people to see the love and joy my sister had for the Lord,” he said. “I want to challenge people to not let this become another incident that happened in vain.”

Sylvia Carrizales
sylviacarrizales@hotmail.com

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