Annie Richards: Remembering Tech
It was just a regular Monday morning. Nothing special. Nothing unusual.
Annie Richards, in her final weeks as the top assistant women’s lacrosse coach at Virginia Tech, was up early and raring to go. The Hokies would host Maryland in a crucial Atlantic Coast Conference contest two days hence, and on her docket that cool spring day in Blacksburg were the myriad details of preparation.
Her first order of business, though, was her workout. After a quick two-mile drive from her apartment, she hit the treadmill in Jamerson Hall for 30 minutes of head-clearing, sweat-inducing running, then completed her training regimen with some core work. Now, she was ready to face the busy day.
Little could she imagine.
Little could anyone imagine.
Nearby, Cho Seung-Hui had already shot and killed two students in West Ambler Johnson Hall. Before the morning was over, he would kill 30 more students and faculty in Norris Hall across campus.
Annie Richards, in her final weeks as the top assistant women’s lacrosse coach at Virginia Tech, was up early and raring to go. The Hokies would host Maryland in a crucial Atlantic Coast Conference contest two days hence, and on her docket that cool spring day in Blacksburg were the myriad details of preparation.
Her first order of business, though, was her workout. After a quick two-mile drive from her apartment, she hit the treadmill in Jamerson Hall for 30 minutes of head-clearing, sweat-inducing running, then completed her training regimen with some core work. Now, she was ready to face the busy day.
Little could she imagine.
Little could anyone imagine.
Nearby, Cho Seung-Hui had already shot and killed two students in West Ambler Johnson Hall. Before the morning was over, he would kill 30 more students and faculty in Norris Hall across campus.
Almost a year has passed, but Richards, now the Upper School physical
education department chair and head girls’ lacrosse coach at
Collegiate, remembers the events of April 16 as if they happened
yesterday. Chances are, she always will.
“It really made me appreciate life,” she said. “I know that sounds kind of cliché, but it’s true. I choose to be a happy person. I try to live life to the fullest because you never really know what’s out there.”
For a while, Richards watched events unfold on the television in the training room. Then, around 9 a.m., she walked upstairs to her windowless quarters in Cassell Coliseum and flipped on CNN. By this time, the campus was in lockdown. Specifics were hard to come by. Was there one shooter or two? Was a gunman really loose on the tennis courts right behind her building?
This is so surreal, she thought. What’s going on here? Shouldn’t I be doing something?
As constantly changing reports flashed across the screen, she and her colleague Megan Burker sent emails and text messages to their 28 players.
Where are you guys? they asked. Is everyone OK?
Communication around campus, especially during the immediate crisis, was sporadic at best. Nevertheless, some responded quickly. The last checked in around 4 p.m. All, including several who were in buildings that were locked down until well into the afternoon, were unharmed.
During the blur of the morning, Richards emailed her uncle in Wyoming, and he relayed the news that she was safe to her parents, whom she had so far been unable to reach, in Point Pleasant, NJ. All the while, she kept one eye on CNN.
“We saw people being carried out of Norris Hall,” she recalled. “We thought it was just one or two. Then, it was six, then nine. The number (of casualties) kept going up and up. It was weird to be stuck in that office and know that all this was happening less than a half-mile away.”
A SWAT team rushed through her building.
“Pretty scary,” she said.
Around noon, authorities shut down Cassell Coliseum.
“They had a bunch of us walk to our cars with police protection,” she recalled. “They were nervous that there were other shooters because the two incidents had happened at opposite sides of the campus.”
In the ensuing hours and days, the magnitude of the tragedy became apparent, and Richards has many emotion-charged memories of that transcendent passage in her life and the lives of so many others. She remembers her concern, even fear, until all her players reported in.
“The lacrosse kids were really shaken up, some more than others,” she said. “A number of the freshmen lived near where the first shooting occurred. The SWAT team and the police were right around their dorm, and they saw the bodies taken out. For some kids, it brought back experiences with death that they had had in their past.
“It was difficult as the adult leader to keep your emotions bottled up and be strong for the student-athletes who needed a shoulder to cry on and someone to talk to. Everybody was really devastated.”
With classes suspended, many of her players went home, then convened on Friday for the rescheduled match with the Terrapins the next day.
“It was really emotional,” she said. “We played a kickball game out on our field to try to get people laughing and joking around. It was nice to have that lighthearted feeling, but it was a difficult balance. We were trying to move on, but we knew that 100 yards away, two people had been killed, and a half-mile away, 30 people had been killed.”
She recalls the kindness of the visitors from Maryland, who brought t-shirts bearing the VT logo and the word “Strength.” She recalls the unbridled community support, the many acts of compassion, the signs of remembrance, the emotional candlelight vigil, the memorial service, attended by President Bush, and the poet Nikki Giovanni’s inspiring words, “We are the Hokies. We will prevail. We are Virginia Tech.”
And she reflects often on the events of that Monday morning a year ago that changed her life forever.
“To be honest,” she said, “I don’t know if I’ve processed it all. It was obviously the most tragic thing I’ve ever been part of. It’s made me stop, look around, kind of smell the roses, and say, ‘I’m happy to be alive. Hey, today is a great day.’” —Weldon Bradshaw
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“It really made me appreciate life,” she said. “I know that sounds kind of cliché, but it’s true. I choose to be a happy person. I try to live life to the fullest because you never really know what’s out there.”
For a while, Richards watched events unfold on the television in the training room. Then, around 9 a.m., she walked upstairs to her windowless quarters in Cassell Coliseum and flipped on CNN. By this time, the campus was in lockdown. Specifics were hard to come by. Was there one shooter or two? Was a gunman really loose on the tennis courts right behind her building?
This is so surreal, she thought. What’s going on here? Shouldn’t I be doing something?
As constantly changing reports flashed across the screen, she and her colleague Megan Burker sent emails and text messages to their 28 players.
Where are you guys? they asked. Is everyone OK?
Communication around campus, especially during the immediate crisis, was sporadic at best. Nevertheless, some responded quickly. The last checked in around 4 p.m. All, including several who were in buildings that were locked down until well into the afternoon, were unharmed.
During the blur of the morning, Richards emailed her uncle in Wyoming, and he relayed the news that she was safe to her parents, whom she had so far been unable to reach, in Point Pleasant, NJ. All the while, she kept one eye on CNN.
“We saw people being carried out of Norris Hall,” she recalled. “We thought it was just one or two. Then, it was six, then nine. The number (of casualties) kept going up and up. It was weird to be stuck in that office and know that all this was happening less than a half-mile away.”
A SWAT team rushed through her building.
“Pretty scary,” she said.
Around noon, authorities shut down Cassell Coliseum.
“They had a bunch of us walk to our cars with police protection,” she recalled. “They were nervous that there were other shooters because the two incidents had happened at opposite sides of the campus.”
In the ensuing hours and days, the magnitude of the tragedy became apparent, and Richards has many emotion-charged memories of that transcendent passage in her life and the lives of so many others. She remembers her concern, even fear, until all her players reported in.
“The lacrosse kids were really shaken up, some more than others,” she said. “A number of the freshmen lived near where the first shooting occurred. The SWAT team and the police were right around their dorm, and they saw the bodies taken out. For some kids, it brought back experiences with death that they had had in their past.
“It was difficult as the adult leader to keep your emotions bottled up and be strong for the student-athletes who needed a shoulder to cry on and someone to talk to. Everybody was really devastated.”
With classes suspended, many of her players went home, then convened on Friday for the rescheduled match with the Terrapins the next day.
“It was really emotional,” she said. “We played a kickball game out on our field to try to get people laughing and joking around. It was nice to have that lighthearted feeling, but it was a difficult balance. We were trying to move on, but we knew that 100 yards away, two people had been killed, and a half-mile away, 30 people had been killed.”
She recalls the kindness of the visitors from Maryland, who brought t-shirts bearing the VT logo and the word “Strength.” She recalls the unbridled community support, the many acts of compassion, the signs of remembrance, the emotional candlelight vigil, the memorial service, attended by President Bush, and the poet Nikki Giovanni’s inspiring words, “We are the Hokies. We will prevail. We are Virginia Tech.”
And she reflects often on the events of that Monday morning a year ago that changed her life forever.
“To be honest,” she said, “I don’t know if I’ve processed it all. It was obviously the most tragic thing I’ve ever been part of. It’s made me stop, look around, kind of smell the roses, and say, ‘I’m happy to be alive. Hey, today is a great day.’” —Weldon Bradshaw
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