This page includes stories from the Survivors of the shootings and the hostage situation at Lindhurst High School on May 1, 1992.  The first story is from one of the students taken hostage by Eric Houston in classroom C106.  The second story is also from one of the students that was also held hostage for a time in classroom C106.  To read her story, click here.   A third Survivor's story is here.  The fourth and fifth stories are from elementary school students and how the Lindhurst High School shootings affect them.  To read those stories, click here.  All five of these stories are used with permission from the Survivor. I hope these stories are helpful to the Survivors of Lindhurst, as well as my visitors.  If any other Survivors of Lindhurst would like to be a part of this page, I welcome your input.

In July of 2004 I received an email from a Survivor of the Lindhurst High School shooting.  This shooting dragged on into the night as Eric Houston held up to 70 students hostage in the school's drama room after opening fire.  This Survivor and I talked about the movie Hostage High (released by TVA International Distribution Inc. in 2001) and how the movie imitated real life.  This Survivor, Johnny Mills, sent me the following story and after doing some light editing he allowed me to post his story here. 

    Yes, actually there was a lot of stuff that was kind of Hollywood about it (the movie, Hostage High). The building set up and the way the Rick Schroder was portraying Eric Houston.  To be there and see it up close the way we did will never compare to any movie. The numbness, adrenalin, dizzy, confused and down right scariness of all the nightmares a little boy, or girl, can have on one plate was there. Everything was like slow motion but in real time. I know that I don’t make a lot of sense but trust me, it was real.

    Okay, I will tell you what really happened from my point of view. First off, if you call the Appeal-Democrat near my town (the number is 530-741-1123) you might be able to get news clippings of that day. My name is Johnny Mills and I was in R.O.T.C. at the time. Wayne B. was featured in the paper for saving lives (if you want to call it that on my part). Check on it, it will collaborate my story. The instructor of R.O.T.C. was Col. Bernard Stine and his assistant was, and still is, Sergeant Miller. They are still teaching at Lindhurst High School.

    The building you see is a two story building where the classrooms on top and bottom are arranged in like a double-decker horse shoe shape half way surrounding the library that’s on the bottom floor. It started out in room C106. We had a gust speaker that day on Cal. Trans, a government agency that repairs roads controlled by the county. My friend and I were sitting in the third aisle far right row talking about a magazine he had when we heard a loud pop. It sounded like some one set off a fire cracker or someone was hitting the lockers outside the room. The room I was in, C106, was a drama room, you know stage and rows of chairs. It also had a balcony. All of the doors faced in to the hall, no other way out.

    Anyway our teacher, I think his name was Mr. Macalif, but I’ll check on that, poked his head out the door to see what the ruckus was and immediately slammed the door shut and yelled, "Get down! Get down!" Now we all looked at him in shock and he said, "They are shooting! Get down!" I dove to the ground and crawled to the back of the right stage and huddled in the corner.

    Meanwhile my friend Greg was calmly folding his magazine and walked to where I was at and in his usual manner laughed at my R.O.T.C. military commander for scooting across the floor as he called it (he was always the calm one, that helped me latter) when we heard about 3 more shots, louder and deeper in tone. I knew right then it was a 12-gauge shotgun, very distinctive pop or boom. I should say so, I started to look for ways to protect my self, like I found a hanger and made a not so useable stabbing instrument (yeah, I know, I was in a panic) when Greg grabbed me and said, "I don’t wanna die." He smiled and kissed me on the shoulder. Being his normal, calm, jokingly self he reared me back to a well being calm, he called it the shock effect.

    Mr. Macalif asked if some one would climb to the balcony and hold the doors shut so any one on the other side would think the room was locked.  No one offered; so I asked Greg to come with me and he said he would.  He lifted me up over the balcony and he could not get up so he went back to the stage. I looked to the other door and saw another classmate, Craig, was standing there holding the door.  We talked about some things and we came up with the idea that if some one gets in we'll tell them that we were the only two there.  Just then, little Mike climbed over the rail and pushed past Craig and opened the door.  Craig shut the door and Mike started pounding and shouting, "He’s out here! Let me in, he’s got a gun!" So Craig let him in and Mike dove over the rail into the chairs below.  While he was doing that a knock was at the door and a scared little kids voice said he knows you are in there and if you don’t open the door he is going to shoot me in the back. So we opened the door, AND THAT’S WHEN MY DAY AT LINDHURST HELL REALLY BEGAN.

    Craig went through first and I followed him. The gunman asked if we were the only ones in there and what happened to that kid. We said yes we were and he got out he then made us lift our shirts and turn in a circle to check for weapons and ushered us into the room he was in. (Now the room he was in is actually two classrooms partitioned into two rooms, one half is in the corner of the balcony and the other room is the one he was in the room had only three walls [picture a Hollywood set], continuing on now…) He stood at the front right side of the room holding a black 12-gauge shotgun with an ammo sleeve with 12-gauge round in it on the butt of the rifle. He was wearing blue jeans, a tee-shirt with a camouflage hunting vest filled with enough rounds to shoot the entire town of Olivehurst and some 22 long shells were mixed in as well. He had a blue ball cap with kind of Navy fringe embroidered on the bill.

    He told us to sit the f--k down and I did in the back far right corner of the room behind a small book rack that stood upright. He was pacing back and forth muttering to himself with the occasional groan for a minute or two, when out of nowhere he turned and asked if any of the 20 to 30 students wanted to know why he was there. No one moved or said anything. The gunman said, "I said ‘Do any one of you want to know why I’m f--king here?’" Again, no one said anything but a girl started to cry. He swung around and pointed the gun at us and chambered a round and started to ask us again. 

    I raised my hand and nervously asked, "Why are you doing this?" 

    He replied, "Get up!" So I did and he said, "Go to the other side of the room by yourself."

    I did so and he said, "Why would you talk to me?" 

    "You asked a question and I thought I needed to know why you were here." 

    "I’m here because I wanted to scare that son of a bitch Brens! Can you believe he failed me by one lousy point! One point is all I needed to graduate and that communist bastard would not find it to give it to me! I lost every thing; the respect from my dad, my job, my girl and I spent a lot of money on the prom I can’t get back. The tux, the limo and even the prom dress, lost it. I f--king lost it all and now he will know what it’s like. What is your name?" I told him and he said, "Well, John, you are either a brave little shit or stupid. Which is it?" 

    "I don’t know, but I think every one deserves a little respect." 

    His face changed to more of a calm look. "You just stay there and be a good little boy, ok son." 

    "Okay."

    Then we heard some one laugh down stairs and the gunman yelled, "Get over here!" I guess he thought he’d found a straggler. When he realized it was a whole class of students, all 11 of them came up. One in particular was a girl I grew up with, her name was Judy Finger. We grew up as friends in Yuba City. Any how, she came in and saw me and literally jumped in my arms and was crying so hard she could not breathe. Her asthma was kicking in and she left her medication in the other room. After about two minutes it got worse and she kept saying she wanted to go home. A little before that the gunman had released a couple of pregnant girls so I thought, why not.

    I raised my hand again and said, "Sir." 

    He spun around and yelled, "What?!" 

    I asked if Judy could go and told him if she didn’t get her medication she could get really bad and possibly die. He reluctantly said yes and told her to get up she did and he said go. 

    She turned to me and said, "I won’t leave you." 

    "Go. Please go. I’ll be okay. Tell my mom and dad I love them very much. Please don’t forget."

    She answered, "No, please come with me."

    "No, I can’t just go. Damn it! Get the hell out of here."

    She started to cry harder and started out of the room when the gunman pointed the gun at her and put his finger on the trigger. I thought I had killed her but then he said, "You better not say anything to the cops. You heard nothing, saw nothing, and know nothing. You got me?" She said yes and he looked at me and asked, "Who is she to you?" 

    "She's my cousin." 

    He said to her, "If you don’t repeat what I’ve told you I’m going to kill him." 

    My heart sunk as she walked out of the room yelling, "I saw nothing, I know nothing!" over and over. 

    At one point she stopped saying it and he yelled out, "You don’t love your cousin, do you?" 

    Then we heard "I SAW NOTHING, I HEARD NOTHING, I KNOW NOTHING" as loud as she could until the door outside shut. 

    He looked at me and said, "You’re lucky she was able to breathe good enough so I could hear her."

    He went about his pacing again. I guess when the door shut another class heard it and yelled, "Help he’s been shot!" and the gunman changed completely. He looked like a little boy who knew he was going to get in trouble. He said, "Oh my god! I killed someone!" and was getting really nervous at this time. 

    I thought we were all going to die any way so I raised my hand again and said, "Sir, I know CPR and I can go see what is going on."

    "You’ve done enough just shut up."

    "If he dies, you will not get out of this and you will get murder on you, but if you let me help, you will be a hero."

    Another boy in the room said, "Yeah, I heard of that kind of thing happens."

    "You will also." Eric told me I had 5 minutes and to report every 1 1/2 minutes or he’s going to kill the other boy.

    I said, "Yeah, no problem," and went down stairs to the little drama room and went inside. The classroom was filled with kids they started to say something and I said, "Shhhhhhh! He is up there. Just stay quiet and you will be okay." I noticed a trail of blood, a small trail going behind a papier-mâché barn or something they were building and saw the teacher kneeling by a boy. She was holding his hand. The boy was lying on his back covered in blood. I ran over and asked what was wrong. The teacher was crying but reasonably calm.

    She said, "He shot him. Just walk up and shot him. Help me please."

    I told her to keep holding his hand and I looked at the boy and asked, "What’s your name?"

    "Sergio, and could you take me home?"

    "Yes you are going home, but first, I’m John and I’m going to help you." I yelled up stairs to say that yes there’s a victim but I can save him, give me more time.

    The gunman answered, "No! Hurry up!" 

    I continued to look at Sergio and found he had been shot in the left arm just above his elbow and it had broken his arm and the fact that his arm was bent and twisted helped determine that. I asked Sergio, "Where all do you hurt?"

    "My arm."

    I asked if that was it and he said, "Yes, can I go now?"

    "In a minute. What’s your favorite ice cream?" and it went on back and forth while I looked for something to make a tunicate with. I found a piece of plastic and a large yellow towel and I wrapped the plastic around his wound after straightening it. The plastic kind of stuck to the hole and then I wrapped the towel around and made a knot and twisted it tight till the blood stopped. I then said, "I’ll be back."

    I went to the hall and the gunman said, "Your time is up. Get back here."

    I told him the boy would slowly die if he didn’t get to a hospital. I guess the blood all over my pants and shirt convinced him I wasn’t lying and he said, "Take him to the door and push him out and get back because if you don’t I’ll kill them all."

    I went to the room and got help from my secret classmates and got him to the door. The door was out of sight of the gunman, by the way, and he let Sergio go home. The SWAT team was just outside and they tried to grab me but I jumped back and ran back to the room. (I thought of leaving but for some reason I just couldn’t. I still don’t know why, I just couldn’t.)

    I returned to the room where I was greeted by the gunman. "Did you see any cops?"   

    "No."

    "Is he going to be okay?"

    "Yes, he’s getting help now. You did a good thing, thank you."

    "No, thank you. Now get your ass to the balcony and watch for pigs."

    So I did and he said, "By the way, if they try to shoot me you will get hit first," since I was right by him. So I stood by the railing on the balcony and I was watching for the cops when I looked down under the balcony because I heard a faint creak of wood. I saw a police officer standing there, crouched over looking at me. I froze and he pointed up and to his right and did the O.K. sign with his hand. I blinked at him. He pointed at me and tapped his back and slowly backed away. When I looked up the gunman was right there pointing his gun right in my face and asked, "What was you looking at?"

    "Nothing."

    "You wouldn’t lie to me would you?"

    "No sir."

    "DON'T CALL ME SIR! Call me Mike."

    "Yes sir… uh, I mean Mike. Yes, Mike."

    "No, just Mike. If you are lying about what you have seen I’m going to shoot you in the face. You know how I’ll know if you are lying?"

    "No."

    "With my lie detector. This gun will let me know if you are lying or not." He pointed it right at my nose and said, "If you are lying it will go bang and if your not you are a lucky son of a bitch." He cocked it back and stopped and glared at me. He said, "Go, sit down hero."

    I went and sat down, right next to my ex-girlfriend, Jennifer.

    Jennifer asked, "You okay?"

    "Yeah, I’m a little nervous."

    She touched my chest and looked at the blood. "Is he going to be okay?"

    "I don’t know. I don’t know CPR."

    She asked me what the hell I was doing. I said I was going to run but when I saw that boy, I couldn’t. I had to help. She kissed me and said, "You are my hero."

    "No, I’m a recovering cowered."

    She laughed and said, "No, you are you are a real hero."

    "Yeah, okay."

    When Eric, the gunman, let some people go to the bathroom, some would go but not come back. He got mad and demanded a key to the bathroom where he can see them. (A faculty bathroom was right in front of where he can see the door.) The cops would not comply fast enough to the demand, so he shot a couple of times in to the library downstairs and all of a sudden a key magically slid into view.

    That’s when a kid he had sitting on the stairs said, "I know you, you are ERIC HOUSTON."

    Eric said, "No, I’m Mike."

    The kid said, "No, you went to school with my brother. You even came to my house."

    Then Eric got mad and shot again and yelled, "Shut up!"

    The police interrupted his outburst by yelling up, "Can we talk?"

    "F--k off!"

    "What do you want?"

    Eric asked us, "Is any one hungry?" And every one said yes. Eric told us that he wasn’t going to hurt anyone, he just wanted to prove a point and things got messed up.

    Then the cops interrupted again and asked, "Do you need anything?"

    "Yeah, I want pizza and charge it to that asshole Brens!"

    "Let some of kids go and well do it. Fifteen kids for pizza and coke on us."

    Eric said no at first but another student by the name of Erik pressed and said, "If you do let the little ones go I’ll stay and be with you."

    Eric Houston said, "Count out 15 students and be fair, not all girls and when I tell you point them out and they can go." Then he sent another kid to another room to get a VCR and a television set so he could watch the news.

    "The pizza is here," yelled the cop.

    Eric said to Erik, "Show me the kids." And he did. Erik counted 14 kids and Eric told him to stop. The gunman pointed at me and said, "Go."

    "No, let my girlfriend go. She is pregnant with my child." (A total lie, by the way.)

    Eric said, "You, but you go too," as he pointed to both of us.

    "No, send another girl."

    "You can shut the hell up and go or stay and die!"

    So I got up with Jenny, hand and hand and walked out.

    I couldn’t tell you what happened to the rest of the people in the room, but some how I still fell like I abandoned them. Well, that is a short version of what really happened to me. And what my experience was I thank God every day that that gun did not go off. I don’t know where the strength came from to be so calm because after the gun hit my face, I started to cry and could not stop for a while. To this day, I’ll wake up in a cold sweat and live it over and over in my head. Lindhurst High School, May 1^st, 1992. A day that will live forever within the spirits of my fallen brothers’ and little sister.

In early November of 2009, an army captain went on a shooting rampage at Fort Hood, Texas.  He killed 12 soldiers and one civilian.  He was stopped by a female police officer who wounded him severely enough for him to stop shooting.  The next day, I received an email from a Survivor of the Lindhurst High School shooting.  This Survivor offered her story to be posted here.