LEWISTON, Maine (AP) — Ben Dyer was shot five times during Maine’s deadliest mass shooting, when a gunman killed 18 people at a bowling alley and a bar.
A year later, Dyer and fiancée Keela Smith want to turn the worst day of their lives into the best.
As Lewiston the Friday, Dyer and Smith are looking ahead to the second with hope. Dyer proposed to Smith this spring, bolstered by a new outlook on life and determined to not hold back. They’ve chosen Oct. 25 as next year’s wedding date, the same day as the shooting. They want to reclaim the day.
“So that we can always have it be a good reminder for us. Something that we don’t dread every year, and that doesn’t break our hearts every year,” Smith said. “Because it will be ‘Oh, that’s our wedding day. That’s the day that we took back, and we made it ours.’”
The couple, both 48, are among dozens of people directly affected by the shooting who are still to work through the physical and emotional trauma. For many, the anniversary is bringing back unwelcome memories.
The nightmares haven't gone away
“I have nightmares every day,” said Megan Vozzella, 39, whose husband Steve Vozzella was killed at Schemengees Bar & Grille. “I’m always going to have nightmares. As we get closer and closer, I don’t sleep well.”
Megan says her husband managed to crawl outside before he died. Thinking about him in pain and trying to hold on is what gives her the nightmares.
Vozzella, who is deaf, talks through a sign language interpreter. Her husband was one of four deaf people killed while playing cornhole at the bar. Megan went to the same school as three of them, and they all knew each other well.
Megan and Steve were two weeks away from celebrating their first wedding anniversary when Steve was killed. They'd met back in 2009 and got to know each other on a camping trip, something they continued to love doing together. They have a 13-year-old daughter, Bella. That night, Megan lost both her husband and a big part of her community.
“We thought we’d have a future, raising the family and growing old together. And they’re just all gone,” she said. “The world is upside-down.”
Lewiston plans ceremony to honor the victims
Lewiston is planning an anniversary ceremony Friday to honor the victims, survivors, first responders and others affected by the tragedy. The evening will include music, speeches and two moments of silence.
The shooting began just before 7 p.m. at the bowling alley, Just-In-Time Recreation. Armed with a semiautomatic rifle fitted with a scope and laser, killed eight people in 45 seconds. He then drove 4 miles to the bar, where he killed another 10 people. He later killed himself.
“We were just a group of people hanging out, doing something we love,” recalls Dyer, who was playing cornhole at the bar. “Eating snacks and food, having a couple of drinks, and throwing bags. And then, all hell broke loose.”
Dyer lay on the ground after being shot, trying to stanch the blood flowing from his right arm. He looked up to see Card staring at him. As the gunman took aim, Dyer raised his arms and ducked his head away, saving him from a fatal shot. He closed his eyes and tried not to breathe.
Dyer lost a finger and the use of his right arm. These days, he buys clothes that are a size too big so he can slide them on more easily with one hand. He's still figuring out how to cook and toss cornhole bags left-handed. Every time he looks at his scars in the shower or fumbles buttoning his shirt, he's reminded.
“I still live that day," he said. "But I’m alive.”
The Army and police missed chances to seize guns
In the months before the shooting, both the Army and police failed to seize Card’s guns, despite knowing his mental health was unraveling and he was making ominous threats, an investigating commission found. About 100 survivors and relatives of the victims are now the Army.
Since the shooting, Maine has and made other changes to gun laws. But it did not ban assault weapons like some advocates wanted.
The U.S. surgeon general in June declared gun violence a . Dr. Vivek Murthy said Americans want to be able to go to school, the supermarket or their house of worship without worrying about getting killed. He called for a ban on assault weapons and large-capacity magazines for civilian use.
Dyer, who like many people living in rural Maine likes to hunt, said his experience hasn’t changed his views on guns.
“Your car can be a lethal weapon if you want it to be, if you drove it into a parade and mowed people down,” he said. “So, my take on guns is no different. I still own them, and I still buy them.”
As Dyer speaks on the deck of his Auburn home, the sound of gunshots can be heard in the woods beyond. Dyer said the volleys don't bother him, as they’re far away. In fact, he said, he’s excited to learn how to hunt again, this time using only his left arm.
Like Dyer, Vozzella doesn’t see guns as the problem, but instead blames failures in the mental health system. She remains angry at the police and military for not confiscating Card's guns before the massacre.
“They missed a lot of opportunities," she said.
Vozzella's daughter remains fearful of going to school, worried a shooter might show up. It’s been a rough year for both of them, Vozzella said, but they've found some solace by going on camping trips and spending time with family and friends.
Vozzella shows the arm tattoo she got soon after the shooting -- a heart with angel wings and the inscription: “In Loving Memory Stephen M Vozzella.”
“It’s never easier,” she said. “For the rest of my life, it’s not going to be easy to keep going. But I’m slowly moving on every day and finding my new normal.”
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Associated Press journalists Rodrique Ngowi, Robert F. Bukaty, Patrick Whittle, David Sharp and Holly Ramer contributed to this report.
