“Put your running shoes on,” I said to my best friend as I knocked on her door at 2:50 p.m. on April 20.
Three minutes earlier, Harvard University Police Department’s Alert system sent out a campus-wide email: “Transit police are reporting shots fired at the Harvard Sq MBTA Station. CPD, Transit, State, and Harvard Police are searching the Square for the suspect. Shelter in place. Please enter the nearest building and stay there until all clear is given.”
It appeared to be a quick turnaround for students to take action, except that an anonymous Harvard student had already notified students on the anonymous social media application Sidechat that there were shots fired at around 2:21 p.m., nearly 30 minutes earlier.
How is it possible that an anonymous post on a social media platform reached thousands of students before our own police department?
Although it was not directly on Harvard’s campus, students still felt the weight of the fear. Rumors of gunshots quietly threaded their way through group chats and posts, as screenshots were shared and questions emerged. Students probed where the shooter was, some even spreading an unconfirmed description of the suspect. The MBTA Transit Police of Boston has since taken over the case and students await new information, hoping to lay this concern to rest and cease the ambiguous fear that floats around campus.
I didn’t see the post myself until I received a text in my entryway group chat. A fellow first-year warned us all to stay inside our dorms because there was a shooter nearby. I informed my roommate, and we questioned what we should do. It seemed to be a rumor. We had not received anything official, and our proctor didn’t seem to be concerned.
We had planned to attend the Quincy Easter Egg Hunt, but instead decided that we should just stay in our room. We were fairly calm until HUPD released their campus-wide alert 30 minutes later.
Then, we really started to become concerned. I quickly ran across the hall to my best friend’s room, instructing her to grab her running shoes and a kitchen knife.
By the time we returned from her room across the hall, my roommate had already begun lacing up her shoes and searching social media for any revelations in the shooting. I realized that our windows were open and unshaded. Faster than we have ever moved, my roommate and I went to each one, locking them and drawing the shades.
The three of us sat huddled on our couch until we realized our shadows were visible through the window, so we moved to my bedroom. We sat beneath the beds, running shoes on, knife in hand, an assortment of empty glass bottles around us. The door locked behind us as a futile attempt to slow what might be coming. We quietly called our parents, telling them we loved them and not to worry. My parents, three thousand miles away, attempted to counsel me. My father, a former Force-Recon Marine, took me through the motions of what to do in the worst-case scenario.
“If you have to strike—don’t hesitate and don’t stop until the person is down. Then flee. Do not open the door for anyone until you get an all-clear. No matter who.”
We sat in silence, listening for anything that might clue us in on someone drawing near. With every bump outside or click of flip-flops in the hallway, we audibly exhaled and widened our eyes to look at each other.
“You run, and you don’t stop running,” I heard myself whisper to my friends again and again during the half-hour lockdown.
When the shelter-in-place was lifted at 3:20 p.m., none of us felt any safer. The campus-wide message we received was vague at best: “The search has been concluded. The shelter in place has been lifted.”
Notably, it didn’t say, “We have found the suspect.” Yet we all were under the false pretense that the suspect was in custody. Days later, the suspect has still not been apprehended. Students know nothing about the suspect’s whereabouts, motive, or even whether they might return. It seems naive to suggest that we all should feel secure.
Riddle me this: how can it take over 30 minutes for a campus-wide police alert to be sent to students, but less than 40 minutes for the “search to be concluded”? How are students supposed to feel safe with this ambiguous answer? Did the police just give up? How has the search been concluded with no suspect in custody?
Some might say that my friends’ and my reaction was unrealistic. I would challenge that the safety on this campus warrants such a reaction. It takes approximately three minutes to walk from the T-Station to my dorm. In three minutes, countless lives could have been lost. In three minutes, a magazine could have been emptied. In three minutes, our worlds could have been forever changed. If it were not for the Sidechat alert, we do not know when we would have heard about the shooting. However, I do know this: students should not need to rely on an anonymous app to be informed about their safety when we have a campus-wide primary emergency alert system.
It took over 30 minutes for HUPD to take our safety seriously. As they are responsible for placing the school on lockdown, we must assume that they are keeping a watchful eye and maintaining steady conversation with the Cambridge Police Department. With rampant gun violence in the U.S. and Harvard increasingly in the public eye, one would assume that precautions would be taken more seriously—“shelter in place” messages, more specific information after the situation had concluded, or clearer guidance on what to do during a lockdown.
It is hard for a day to go by without the name “Harvard” showing up in the news, or the concerns of gun violence. A few weeks ago, students at Florida State University were put through a horrendous tragedy as a mass shooting occurred leaving two dead and at least six injured. Through K-12, students practice lockdown and active shooter drills, but what is the lockdown drill or appropriate measures for Widener Library? Where are students supposed to go if they were simply in the Yard sunbathing? Do we barricade the windows, close the doors, and pray for the best? Why did we have no information given to us, and why are we ultimately unprepared as students for a situation like this?
If this is truly one of the top universities in the nation, Harvard should ensure we all feel safe. I am grateful that no one was harmed, but I can’t help but think that this was sheer luck. G-d forbid an actual shooting occur, who knows how long it would take for a campus-wide alert to go out. We simply do not have the time for cryptic alert messages and delayed responses, not when we are dealing with human lives. It only takes a mere second for a bullet to end someone’s life. We can not waste 30 minutes.
Sidney Regelbrugge ’28 (sidneyregelbrugge@college.harvard.edu) hopes that everyone feels safe on campus.