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George Hennard, pictured in 1981
As the hours carried on and the sun pierced the Texan sky, Luby's Cafeteria opened its doors. It was National Bosses Day and the cafeteria had been advertising itself as the ideal place to go to for lunch. Employees arrived and began prepping the food. In about an hour, an estimated 162 people would be inside the restaurant. As fate would have it, several patrons went to Luby's that day to celebrate their co-workers and bosses. Others were meeting their friends for a meal; some had made the last-minute decision to go for no specific reason at all; one woman had forty-five minutes to kill before she had to go back to work at her salon.
Luby's Cafeteria in Killeen, TX
Dr. Suzanna Gratia Hupp was at her chiropractic clinic in nearby Copperas Cove when her parents, Al and Ursula Gratia, came by from the golf course and asked her to join them for lunch. She said no; the clinic had an overflow of patients that day. A phone call came in. It was Suzanna's friend, who just so happened to be the daytime manager of Luby's. He invited her to lunch to catch up on some things. The coincidence was too good to be true, and so Suzanna got into her car with her parents. Another resident of Copperas Cove was Kirby Lack, a pastor at Trinity Worship Center. He'd spent the morning exercising at the gym and then went by the vet clinic of his good friend Dr. Michael Griffith. Having just finished surgery, Griffith saw Lack come in. "You gonna treat me to lunch?" he joked. Kirby Lack shrugged. "Sure. But it's got to be quick. I wanna finish working on my boat." Dr. Griffith suggested Luby's Cafeteria.
Sylvia King was a tall, blonde woman from Killeen. She was engaged to be married and had been running her own beauty salon for the last two years. On October 16, King told her salon employees that she was going to lunch, and she'd be back within the hour if traffic wasn't too bad. Nobody knew where she was going. Perhaps it was a spur-of-the-moment decision to go to Luby's because King didn't frequent the establishment like most townsfolk. She was one of the few people to be eating alone.
Also on their lunch breaks were Thomas Simmons and Louis Caraballo, two employees at the local Wal-Mart. Caraballo considered going to a drive-thru for fast food. But it was Simmons who was driving. He veered off the highway. "Let's go to Luby's."
Kirby Lack and Michael Griffith sat at a two-person table alongside the south windows. The Gratia family couldn't sit at their usual spot due to the crowd of people; they found a table near the east wall. Suzanna's manager friend, Mark Kopenhaffe, sat with them for a few minutes. He noticed that the serving line was packed and one of the cashiers seemed to be having trouble with the register. "Excuse me," he told them. "I have to go take care of some things." Sylvia King was also eating near the east wall. In the serving line, she had been told by a stranger (Dee Leasure): "I see two boys in the line who keep looking at you. I think they're gonna try and chat with you." King chuckled and said that she was flattered, but she was already spoken for. Thomas Simmons and Louis Caraballo found an empty table a few feet from the serving line. Just our luck, Caraballo told himself.
A planter stood in the center of the dining room, with a lattice in each common direction (north, east, south, west). Bernard and Venice Henehan had come down from Missouri because their granddaughter was getting married in Houston. They were joined by their daughter Judy and son-in-law Steven Ernst, as well as two family friends. The group was eating northwest of the planter; the two Henehans sat with their backs facing the north lattice.
Griffith and Lack ate their food. Their usual conversation about life, and faith, turned morbid when Griffith explained his fear of having "only three people show up" to his funeral if he ever died prematurely. Lack knew that his friend was also having a bit of financial difficulty and reassured him that everything was going to be okay. "Mike," he told him. "You're my buddy. I love ya. If something ever happens to ya, I'll be there at your funeral." This seemed to please the veterinarian, who jokingly said: "Alright. Make that four people at my service."
The bustling lunchtime atmosphere carried on. Suzanna and her parents had finished their meal and were about to leave. A few tables away, retirees Barbara Nite and Kriemhild "Kitty" Davis drank coffee while Davis showed photos of her four-month-old grandchild. The two women were in no rush to leave. Nite also had a slice of pie that left her with a bill of $2.68; her purse was a mess and she had trouble finding exact change. Dee Leasure was dining with co-worker Glen Spivey. He was known as "the man who could fix anything"--not only that, he was like a father-figure to her. They enjoyed each other's company. Spivey told her that he was craving fried okra so they went on over the cafeteria. Leasure wanted to leave when she saw the large crowd, but she had relented as the serving line moved.
Tommy Vaughn, a 28-year-old mechanic, was at the cafeteria to celebrate the birthday of his co-worker, Paul LaBombard. Vaughn and seven other employees from the Mazda dealership had come to spend time with LaBombard before their grueling shifts resumed. Standing at six-foot-six and weighing almost 350 pounds, Tommy Vaughn could've been mistaken for a pro-wrestler had he not been in his uniform. A frequent visitor of Luby's, Vaughn loved the restaurant's desserts, but on this day--wanting to cut back on sugar--he skipped the enticing sweets and made his way into the northeast corner of the dining room to join his buddies. This simple action probably saved his life from what was about to happen.
Kirby Lack took another bite of his food. Nite found a five-dollar bill that she could use for her tab. The serving line began to move at a faster pace. In the parking lot, Eddie Sanchez was dropping off his pregnant girlfriend Angela Wilson, a part-time Luby's employee. Sanchez was about to start driving when he saw a flash a blue coming from the lot's west entrance. That guy's going too damn fast, he thought. The 1987 Ford pickup sped past Sanchez's vehicle at high speed. James and Judy Pfau were walking towards the entrance of Luby's and saw the truck coming. "He's going to hit us!" Mrs. Pfau screamed. Her husband quickly jerked her out of the way as they watched the destruction commence.
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Kirby Lack heard the truck before he saw it. Rubber against asphalt; the wretched noise of squealing tires. Griffith heard it, too. Lack peeked out of the cafeteria's curtains just in time to see a blue pickup swerve past his own parked truck. He knew what was about to happen. From behind the curtains, the whole thing seemed to play out like a slow-motion film sequence. Lack saw the man's eyes. They were as white as eggs; wide and ready, full of adrenaline. Lack stood up quickly to brace himself. The floor-to-ceiling window shattered. Glass flew in all directions. The pickup truck came to a sudden halt near the cash registers. Suzanna saw that it was still bouncing on its shock absorbers. Shrieks of pain erupted; several people, and their tables, had been knocked over. Louis Caraballo was one of them. Lying on his side, facing away from the wreckage, he groaned. He'd literally been thrown from his seat.
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Of course, people thought it was an accident. Did he have a heart attack? Did his breaks fail? Susan Hester, who had been dining with co-workers in the southeast corner, stared at the vehicle; something told her that the truck's entrance had been intentional. Several patrons ran over to help those who were hit. Kirby Lack, who knew first aid and was certified in CPR, stepped towards the bumper. Suzanna also took a few steps towards the wreckage. My God, that's right where we usually sit, she thought. Dr. Michael Griffith turned around to check on an elderly couple who had been sitting only a few feet from the broken window, clearly startled. Thomas Simmons, who had managed to move out of the way, ran towards the driver's door with his arm reaching out for the handle. With the window already rolled down, the driver extended his own arm out towards Simmons. Bang! The 33-year-old man fell onto his knees. He saw the 9mm Glock 17 semi-automatic and tried to brace himself by covering his face. Bang! Bang! Bang! Simmons fell flat onto his back, dead. A wave of silence fell over the restaurant; Suzanna felt her blood run cold and Lack froze. The realization was horrible and chilling. Someone screamed. Barbara Nite, who thought the truck was going to catch on fire and explode, got up from her seat, ready to run. But Kitty Davis pulled her down onto the floor after the first shot rang out. "No, Barbara!" she whispered. "Get down! That man's got a gun!" In seconds, patrons dove underneath their tables or toppled them over as a makeshift barrier. Those in the serving line, who had little protection, hit the floor. Zona Mae Lynn, and a few others, took the opportunity to hide underneath the waiting benches.
Still in his truck, George Hennard shot the already-injured Louis Caraballo. Then he aimed towards the west wall, where Glen Spivey and Dee Leasure were sitting. Frozen in her seat, Leasure felt something strike her cheek with terrifying velocity. There was no pain, but the force had jerked her body back. She thought, for some reason, it had been glass from the window, or debris. She looked over at Glen, who was unscathed, then realized that they were too far away for any object to have hit them. Leasure saw the gun and knew right then and there what had happened. "Glen," she gasped. "I've been shot!" In a desperate attempt to protect his friend, Glen Spivey ushered Dee Leasure past the bathroom alcove, hoping to hide in the walkway that led towards the kitchen. But more shots rang out, and they hit the floor instead. Spivey covered Leasure with his body.
The shooter emerged from his truck. "This is for the women of Belton!" Kirby Lack saw him. The man was six-foot-one, weighing no more than 140 pounds. He was awful-looking; his face, while having handsome features, was twisted with a look of insane determination. From a forty-degree angle, Hennard fired towards the waiting area as Lack dove underneath a table with Lt. Col. Steven Dody and John Romero, Jr. "This is for what Bell County did to me and my family! This is payback! Was it worth it?" Hennard shouted as he unloaded his weapon at point-blank range. Walking swiftly from his truck, he saw the table of K.I.S.D (Killeen Independent School District) employees and shot James Swift in the foot. Susan Hester closed her eyes to pray as Mary Roberts kept her eyes open to track Hennard's movements; she was nauseous and her heart was racing--she could only stay calm if she allowed herself to keep looking. Hennard turned around and shot Olgica Taylor in the leg before moving towards the central planter.
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The Ford Ranger had stopped right next to the table of the Isdale family. Hennard was close. Jean Isdale watched as her son and daughter-in-law shielded the body of their baby, Summer, who was still in her carrier. Hennard ignored them and instead shot through the gap between the north and west lattices. The first shot struck Steven Ernst in the stomach. The next one hit Judy; the bullet went through her arm and struck her mother Venice Henehan, killing her. Ernst clutched his wound as blood began to seep through his shirt. Bernard Henehan and the two family friends remained unharmed.
Taking a few steps from the central planter, Hennard shot at Barbara Nite and Kitty Davis. The bullet entered Nite's ankle and destroyed three of Davis's fingers as it exited. Nite kept still, refusing to flinch or move. She could only see the shooter from the waist down. Near their table, a man and his pregnant wife laid next to each other. The husband, James Guillette, kept track of Hennard's movements; as soon as he got the opportunity, he was going to jump him. "Quit moving!" his wife Celia whispered. "He might kill us if you don't stop!" Like Nite, she could only see the shooter's waist and legs, but she also saw the gun being aimed downward at someone. Without thinking, Celia began to recite the Lord's Prayer out loud.
From a crouching position underneath his table, Kirby Lack saw Hennard walk back towards the truck's tailgate. His pace fastened as he changed directions and came towards the south windows. Lack watched in horror as Romero appeared from underneath the table on his knees. Before he could figure out what the young man had been trying to do, Romero took a bullet to the chest and fell backward. Lack and Dody shifted over to him as Romero's white shirt began to turn a gruesome shade of red. His breathing became heavy; he didn't speak and all Romero managed to do was cross his legs as his eyes began to flutter. Hennard then injured Michael Griffith with two bullets: one to the leg, the other to his chest. Griffith braced himself with his back against the wall. He tried to stand but his body was too weak. Next to him, Hennard fired into the prone bodies of James and Lula Welsh, the same elderly couple that Griffith had tried to comfort moments earlier.
Meanwhile, the employees of Luby's found their escape route through the kitchen thanks to a standard emergency exit. They escaped the building while two others found makeshift hiding spaces; 17-year-old Mark Matthews crawled into an industrial dishwasher and Maria Serna, in the midst of the fleeing chaos, panicked and ran towards the large refrigerator, placing a crate of milk cartons in front of her as she hid amongst the frozen foods. Despite great concealment within the kitchen, Serna continued to hear gunshots from the dining room. For a few moments, the shooter appeared to be close, then the shots would fade, indicating a great distance.
The slide of Hennard's primary weapon locked open; the gun was empty. Lack stood up and clutched onto a rolling chair--a million thoughts racing through his mind: Should I throw something at him? Tackle him? Make a run for it? But, almost as soon as he stood up, a metallic click made him pause. Dody peeked up from underneath the table. "My God!" the lieutenant colonel said. "He's reloading!" Hennard had released the spent magazine and pulled a new one out of his shirt pocket. He turned towards Lack's table, shooting Dody in the chest. Hennard then shot Lack in the back upper hip, with the bullet traveling into his abdomen. "Was it worth it?" Hennard asked the patrons aloud. "The women of Belton and Killeen are vipers!" He walked back towards the planter, firing rapidly. The glass plates and cups that were on the table exploded above Barbara Nite, with the remnants falling just inches from her body. Hennard continued to fire, sending three shots into the back torso of Kitty Davis. He moved over to the southeast end and peeked underneath a table, spotting TU Electric employees Debra Gray and Su-Zann Rashott. Hennard executed both women with close-range shots to the head. In that same area, he killed Ruth Pujol, who was right in front of Susan Hester.
A deadly silence had fallen over the restaurant as Hennard went on with his killing spree. People prayed quietly while others only made noise when they were hit. Those in the serving line were too scared to move towards the front doors, fearing that Hennard could come around the corner at any moment. Seated in the back of the restaurant, Betty Lou Cooper and her daughter, Jodie Rasberry, had seized their own opportunity to escape. While Hennard was executing people in the south end, the two of them stayed low to the floor and crawled towards the women's bathroom, barricading the door with their bodies. They listened carefully as gunfire came towards the north side. Hennard passed by the Gratia family and killed Nancy Stansbury. His next victim was Juanita Williams, who died from several gunshots to the stomach. It is unknown how Sylvia King spent her last moments (since she had been eating alone), but the beauty shop owner was later found right next to Jimmie Caruthers, who was also deceased. At some point during the carnage, Hennard began to use his other gun--a Ruger P89 pistol.
An overturned table and plates on the floor show only a glimpse of the chaos experienced by the dining patrons.
Hennard veered toward the west, spotting Glen Spivey and Dee Leasure. Moments prior, Leasure had seized a gray bin that was used to hold dirty dishes and placed it over her head, fearing that her gender and blonde hair would make her an ideal target. Hennard came closer and raised his weapon. Spivey was still on top of Leasure, concealing most of her body at this point. "Oh, God....no--" A bullet cracked and Spivey's body slumped. Leasure gasped as she felt something warm touch her. "Hold on, hold on," she desperately whispered to her friend. With her face still touching the carpet, Leasure scrambled from underneath his body and saw the damage: Spivey had been struck in the forehead. He took a final breath as Leasure tried to compose herself. She wondered if Spivey had turned to face the shooter, presenting himself as a target to save her life. Leasure looked over towards the planter and saw an elderly woman shaking with fear. Desperate to hold on to a living hand, she crawled over to the stranger. Hennard fired again. Unlike her previous wound, Leasure felt extreme pain as a bullet entered her thigh. She continued to crawl, finally reaching the woman. "Was it worth it?!" Hennard shouted at them. "No!" the two women screamed, cradling each other.
Behind her table, Suzanna Gratia Hupp peered over to see the shooter. After the first shots had rung out, she was waiting for an explanation. Not once did Hennard demand money; Suzanna quickly ruled out robbery as the motive. Is there someone in here that he's trying to put a hit on? No. He killed anyone who was in his path. It took a good forty-five seconds--which felt like an eternity--for Suzanna to realize that he was simply going to take his time, walk around, and execute people. When he got closer, Suzanna was ready to be hit--then she remembered: Oh, I got him now! She reached down towards her purse, ready to pull out her Smith & Wesson light .38 revolver. But then her stomach sank as she realized that she had made the biggest mistake of her life a few months prior. At the time, it was illegal to carry a concealed weapon in the state of Texas. Suzanna had gotten the gun when she was twenty-one after moving to Houston. Her friend, who was a district attorney, had gifted the weapon to her and taught her how to use it. "Susie," he had said. "Nobody's gonna mess with you if you have that gun. The world is a violent place. You don't see it every day, but I do!" All those years later and here's where fate had brought her. She was in a crowded cafeteria with a madman; her gun was a hundred feet away in her car, completely useless. Like a law-abiding citizen, Suzanna did not bring her gun into the restaurant because--if she'd gotten caught with it--she would get arrested and lose her chiropractor's license. Realizing this, Suzanna looked around for something to defend herself with. Great, she thought. What do I do now... throw a salt shaker at him?
Al Gratia took Suzanna's attention. "I've gotta do something! He's gonna kill everybody in here!" Suzanna looked over at her father. "Yeah, but Dad you can't." She tried to hold him down. But when he saw what he thought was an opportunity, Gratia stood up and ran towards the shooter, with his arms stretched out to grab him. Hennard was a good fifteen feet away; Al Gratia managed to cover at least half of the distance before he was shot in the chest. The seventy-one-year-old World War II veteran collapsed onto his side in the aisle. Gratia was still alive when he hit the floor, but Suzanna saw the wound and knew right then and there that he was a goner. Luckily, Gratia's actions had altered Hennard's path. Instead of coming closer to their table, he went off to the left.
Another group of K.I.S.D employees came under fire. A shot passed by Maria Burrows, loud enough to muffle her hearing. When she opened her eyes, dazed by the ringing in her ear, Burrows saw that Patricia "Pat" Carney was dead. Hennard finally made his way towards the serving line, where dozens laid facedown, awaiting their demise. They were exposed, lacking the furniture and tables that dining room patrons had used for cover. George Osborne was shielding his wife Ethyl, covering her face to make sure that she did not witness any violence. Hennard came closer and the Osbornes held their breath. Bang! He shot and killed Clodine Humphrey, who was just a few inches away. Mr. Osborne felt the heat from the fired round but he and Ethyl were unharmed. Behind one of the waiting benches, Hennard saw Connie Miller and Roxanne Peters. His footsteps came closer and Peters was refusing to look up. "Trying to hide from me, bitch?" he spat. Hennard executed Miller with a shot to the back of the head. Peters felt her friend's body shake due to the vibration; not once did she even try to look. Hennard left her alone and turned towards those who had been hiding directly underneath the benches. He shot Rev. Shannon McMullen in the leg. Then Hennard shot Zona Mae Lynn, who was still underneath the bench, killing her instantly. He walked along the serving line, stopping at Charlene Smith. She waited for her turn but it never came. Apparently, Hennard's Ruger P89 was out of ammunition. He placed the gun on a tray of food and left the waiting area, now using his Glock 17 again.
The Ruger P89 was later found on a food tray.
Upon exiting the serving line, Hennard turned towards his right and saw Anica McNeil, who was holding her 3-year-old daughter, Lakeshia. He had previously wounded McNeil's mother, Olgica Taylor. Hennard saw Lakeshia and stepped aside for Anica McNeil and her child to run. "Get that kid out of here. I ain't killin' no babies today. Tell everyone that Bell County was bad!" Anica held onto Lakeshia, unsure if the shooter was being serious or just taunting her. With more rage, Hennard told her to run. Olgica gave her a look of "Just go!" and that's when Anica ran out of the restaurant with her toddler. Even as she entered the parking lot, she waited for one of Hennard's bullets to pierce her in the back. She kept running, making it to a next-door apartment complex with other survivors who had fled. When Olgica Taylor stood up--most likely trying to leave with her daughter and granddaughter--Hennard shot her in the face.
Still conscious, John Romero Jr. clutched onto his saturated shirt as Hennard was beginning his third lap around the dining room. Kirby Lack was facedown; he was in no pain but he had lost a good amount of blood from the wound in his hip. He laid there motionless, hoping that Hennard would keep walking. The shooter saw that Romero was still alive. Another round went into the young man's chest, rendering him still. In a final act of bravery, Lt. Col. Steven Dody shouted: "Why don't you just get out of here and leave us alone!" Bang! Lack felt Dody's body relax as he heard the man's death rattle. Michael Griffith, eager to check on his friend, crawled over to Lack, but he didn't get far. Bang! The pastor refused to move or react, but something told Hennard that he was alive. He kicked the pastor. Nothing. He bent down, straddling Lack's waist. Hennard then pulled his head off of the carpet by his hair, pointing the gun in the soft spot on the back of Lack's head. With his eyes closed, Lack said what he deemed to be his final prayer. THUD! BANG! The sound came from across the room. The distraction, while brief, had saved Kirby Lack's life. Hennard had looked up, shifting his gun right as it fired. Lack opened his eyes and saw the tear in the carpet, just a few inches from his face.
In the back of the restaurant, Tommy Vaughn and his co-workers had attempted to break the window next to them. This alerted the shooter and he left the south end. When kicking didn't work, Vaughn stood up, bracing himself. "Tommy, he's coming!" someone gasped. Vaughn knew that if he turned around to look at Hennard, he'd only freeze. Instead, he hurled his entire body through the glass as Hennard raised the gun. Now outside, Vaughn stood up and took off. An officer came running up to him as he was fleeing. "How bad is it?" the man asked him. "It's bad. Really bad!" Tommy Vaughn said, finally catching his breath. The makeshift escape route allowed others to flee the building. Vaughn was later credited with saving an estimated twenty lives thanks to his actions.
Tommy Vaughn hurled his own body through the window, allowing himself and others to escape.
After hearing the glass break, Suzanna thought: Oh God, here comes another one! Believing that Hennard had an accomplice, she waited for the voice of a second madman. But then she looked up and could see people escaping through a broken window while Hennard fired. When she saw her chance, Suzanna grabbed her mother Ursula by the shirt collar. "Come on! We gotta run!" It was like her feet grew wings. Suzanna made it to the window and the sunlight hit her face, indicating freedom from the carnage. She went towards the herd of onlookers and survivors. Manager Mark Kopenhaffe met her through the crowd. "Suzy! You're alright! Thank God!" Suzanna shook her head. "But my dad's been hit and it's bad!"
Back in the restaurant, 67-year-old Ursula Gratia crawled over to Al, who appeared to be drifting in and out of consciousness. Hennard turned and spotted her. He walked over to their spot, disregarding the potential victims who were running out of Vaughn's window. Ursula cradled Al's head in her lap. At that moment, a police officer came to the broken window. There had been no clear description of the shooter, but he saw a tall, dark-haired man pointing a gun at an elderly couple. Ursula Gratia looked up at Hennard, then bowed her head down towards Al. Bang! The officer recoiled, then radioed for backup. There were still too many people inside the restaurant for him to draw his gun and fire; surely an innocent bystander would be hit. Nevertheless, it was Ursula's sacrifice that bought others time to stand up and flee. She died, but not in vain; her death alerted the authorities as to who the shooter was. Her decision to stay behind was a no-brainer, as Suzanna would later realize. Al and Ursula Gratia had just celebrated their 47th wedding anniversary on October 3. She wasn't going anywhere without her husband.
In the parking lot, Officers Kenneth Olson and Chuck Longwell made their way toward the building. Olson was out of uniform, having just completed an undercover sting operation a few hours earlier. From the south window, they saw that Hennard had his gun pointed towards the floor. Knowing that he was about to execute someone else, Longwell quickly fired a warning shot into the ceiling. Hennard looked up, swore, and returned fire. "He's shooting at us!" Longwell shouted into his walkie-talkie. "I need units to go to the north side!" Officer Al Morris did just that.
Panicked, Hennard tried to reload his gun. But he was trying to put the Ruger's ammunition into the Glock 17. He cursed to himself before finding the right bullets. Olson and Longwell dove in through the curtains. Pop! A round went into the shooter's arm. Hennard ran toward the bathroom alcove. "Fuck you!" he screamed, ducking behind the wall. "I've got hostages!" Morris had a clear view; nobody was with the shooter. "No, you don't!" he taunted. Hennard continued to return fire. "I'll kill more fucking people! I swear!"
Morris managed to get to the restaurant's south end, as Longwell and Olson kept Hennard pinned down. He saw the bodies, worried that he wasn't going to find anyone alive. Then he saw Kirby Lack, who had raised his head up. "It's okay!" Morris said, placing a hand on the pastor's shoulder. "We're gonna flank him!" He then ducked behind a flimsy serving cart, coming to the other officers' aid. Morris drew his weapon and pulled the trigger. Bang! He moved closer, using the truck as a shield.
Bang! Bang! Hennard groaned as another round hit him, this time in his chest. "Drop your weapon!" Olson screamed. Instead, Hennard fell to the floor. He turned over onto his back and placed the gun to his right temple.
A final shot rang out. George Hennard laid still. His entire attack had only lasted twelve minutes.
Those who could stand up and move quickly followed the officers' all-clear message. News vans pulled up, rolling their cameras as first-responders entered the building. A mass of bodies laid near the entrance where Hennard's truck had first made its presence. Anica McNeil still had no word of her mother's fate; Tommy Vaughn was being treated for the cuts on his arm and leg; Suzanna stood in the parking lot as her sister and brother-in-law arrived to make sure she was okay.
One responder later said that seeing all of the bodies on the ground reminded him of the Jonestown tragedy. They were told to check for a pulse and signs of life; if there were none, the emergency personnel should then move on and evaluate the next body.
Army doctors from Fort Hood arrive to help survivors.
A paramedic reached Kirby Lack. "Don't worry," the pastor was told. "The son-of-a-bitch is dead." He was lifted onto a backboard. "Wait. Is he alive?" Lack asked. Another medic reached over to check on Dr. Griffith. "No. I'm sorry." The realization was sickening but the pastor maintained his composure. "That's my friend," Lack said before they hauled him off. "His name is Michael Griffith. He doesn't have his wallet with him because we took my truck today."
Barbara Nite had managed to pull up the back of Kitty Davis' crocheted sweater, pressing down on the gunshot wounds with the thick cafeteria napkins. "Pray for me," Davis mumbled. After that, all she could do was moan. When the medics took over, they offered Nite a gurney. "What about her?" Nite said, gesturing to Davis. "She's more hurt than I am. I can still walk." She passed on the gurney and told them to take care of her friend.
Nearby, another gurney was brought in for Romero, who was still clinging to life. After concluding that Ursula Gratia was deceased, one of the paramedics noticed that Al Gratia had a faint pulse. Both men were taken out to the front doors, where EMTs and doctors from nearby Fort Hood tried to help. Romero took his last breath before he could be loaded into the ambulance. Gratia's chest wound proved too severe, and they covered his body with a white sheet as the cameras arrived. Suzanna pushed through the crowd, where a doctor informed her of her father's passing.
Medics tend to Alphonse \"Al\" Gratia, a World War II veteran who tried to jump the shooter during the rampage.
One medic came inside the restaurant after the others had begun to cart people off. He was informed to check the body in the alcove, which was being guarded by an officer. At first glance, the medic knew right away that there was no way on Earth this man could still be alive. The eyes were wide and haunting, with blood pooling over them. He checked the wrist for a pulse, then the neck. "He's dead," the medic announced. The officer looked over. "Hmm. Good riddance." That's all it took for the medic to realize that he'd just examined the shooter.
As the hours went by, the bodies were evacuated, hundreds of photographs were taken, and news reports all over the country were talking about Luby's Cafeteria. At least nine of the victims' names were released to the public as midnight hit Killeen. To those who walked inside of the building after the shooting, nothing could spur the images out of their mind. Lula Welsh's lifeless body had an arm draped around her husband, James; Ursula Gratia laid on her side, knees bent, still holding the cradling pose she had taken as Hennard walked over to her; Patricia Carney had lost both of her slide-on shoes as she dove underneath a table; Venice Henehan was facedown and, at first glance, it looked like she was sleeping; friends Debra Gray and Su-Zann Rashott were found face-up, with Gray's head resting close to Rashott's chest.
The original body map, not drawn to scale.
I recreated the body map, listing the names, and drawing it more to scale.
Nite poses for her Texas Monthly article, where she spoke about her experience during the massacre.
Dee Leasure went on to be treated for her wounds; the bullet that struck her in the cheek was later found lodged in the soft tissue of her neck. The shot to her thigh ended up shattering her hip, requiring two pins and a screw to piece it back together. She credits Glen Spivey with saving her life and maintained close contact with his wife and children. Leasure struggled with anger and survivor's guilt, but she found comfort in returning to her job at Quail Creek Apartments, as well as being a mother to her children. Leasure still resides in Texas.
As of May 2020, Kirby Lack is still a pastor at Trinity Worship Center in Copperas Cove. He initially had trouble forgiving Hennard, once remarking: "If he was still alive and walking down the street, I'd reach over and rip his face off." For a few weeks after the tragedy, he walked with a cane due to his hip injury. While he was very close with Michael Griffith, Lack says that he "lost a total of seven friends that day." He was also one of the few people in the south end to survive after being shot. Within a ten-foot radius of Lack, there were nine dead bodies. Lack attributes his survival to divine intervention, stating: "[The shooter] knew how to handle guns; there's no way he should've missed me."
Two weeks after being released from the hospital, Kirby Lack visits Luby's.
Other survivors who were shot, such as Louis Caraballo, James Swift, and Steven and Judy Ernst went on to make full recoveries. Venice Henehan's granddaughter, Amy Ernst, postponed her wedding but got married a few months later.
Tommy Vaughn, pictured in 2016.
Tommy Vaughn still works as a mechanic and went on to lose over a hundred pounds through gastric bypass surgery. He looks back on the shooting and jokes, "I guess it was just God's plan for me to be over three hundred pounds that day." He also refuses to take credit for saving dozens of lives by smashing the window. "I broke the glass and they ran. I'm no hero."
Suzanna Gratia Hupp became an advocate for concealed-carry after losing both of her parents in the Luby's shooting
Suzanna Gratia Hupp went on to testify before Congress in favor of the 2nd Amendment. She argues that she and several other patrons were forced to leave their concealed weapons in the car due to "a cruel twist of gun control fate." She advocated for concealed-carry and went to serve as Texas State Representative for District 54 from 1997 to 2007. After the shooting, Gratia experienced anxiety and went on to start a family, where she taught her two sons "to always look for the exits, no matter where you go." She currently resides in Kempner with her husband, where they breed Arabian horses on their ranch. Today, it is now legal to carry a concealed weapon in the state of Texas.
Rare news footage from 1992 shows customers returning to Luby's Cafeteria.
The Luby's Cafeteria franchise donated $100,000 for funeral expenses. Other donations from across the country helped those who were injured pay their bills or rent since they couldn't work while recovering. The company also insisted on demolishing the Killeen Luby's. Suzanna Gratia Hupp, as well as other survivors, insisted that the building remain standing, because if they got rid of it then "the shooter would definitely win." The cafeteria underwent extensive remodeling and reopened its doors in March of 1992. The establishment went out of business in 2000. The building currently holds a Chinese-American buffet restaurant called Yank Sing.
The massacre at Luby's Cafeteria was the deadliest shooting by a lone gunman in U.S. history until Seung-Hui Cho opened fired at Virginia Tech in April 2007.
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If you would like to pay tribute to the victims and their families, please visit the virtual Luby's memorial via Find A Grave.
Sources: Anatomy of a Massacre by Jason & Elinor Karpf; I Survived (Season 4, Episode 27)
submitted by thatforensicgirl to TrueCrime [link] [comments] https://preview.redd.it/uctg8j4n9z251.png?width=732&format=png&auto=webp&s=cc1312114599e0d539d655418bea49149aef9bec
Wednesday, October 16, 1991
Belton resident George Hennard began his day around 5:45 a.m. by grabbing a sausage biscuit from the local corner store, as per his usual routine. Hennard did not have any cash on him that morning; he asked the clerk if she could put it on his tab. Although the staff had been wary of him for the last few weeks, he was a regular so the clerk told him it was alright. Hennard promised he'd return later with the money. His tone sounded a bit anxious and strained; the clerk thought he was lying. Hennard left the store and got onto his bike, pedaling back to his residence on the intersection of Wall and 14th.George Hennard, pictured in 1981
As the hours carried on and the sun pierced the Texan sky, Luby's Cafeteria opened its doors. It was National Bosses Day and the cafeteria had been advertising itself as the ideal place to go to for lunch. Employees arrived and began prepping the food. In about an hour, an estimated 162 people would be inside the restaurant. As fate would have it, several patrons went to Luby's that day to celebrate their co-workers and bosses. Others were meeting their friends for a meal; some had made the last-minute decision to go for no specific reason at all; one woman had forty-five minutes to kill before she had to go back to work at her salon.
Luby's Cafeteria in Killeen, TX
Dr. Suzanna Gratia Hupp was at her chiropractic clinic in nearby Copperas Cove when her parents, Al and Ursula Gratia, came by from the golf course and asked her to join them for lunch. She said no; the clinic had an overflow of patients that day. A phone call came in. It was Suzanna's friend, who just so happened to be the daytime manager of Luby's. He invited her to lunch to catch up on some things. The coincidence was too good to be true, and so Suzanna got into her car with her parents. Another resident of Copperas Cove was Kirby Lack, a pastor at Trinity Worship Center. He'd spent the morning exercising at the gym and then went by the vet clinic of his good friend Dr. Michael Griffith. Having just finished surgery, Griffith saw Lack come in. "You gonna treat me to lunch?" he joked. Kirby Lack shrugged. "Sure. But it's got to be quick. I wanna finish working on my boat." Dr. Griffith suggested Luby's Cafeteria.
Sylvia King was a tall, blonde woman from Killeen. She was engaged to be married and had been running her own beauty salon for the last two years. On October 16, King told her salon employees that she was going to lunch, and she'd be back within the hour if traffic wasn't too bad. Nobody knew where she was going. Perhaps it was a spur-of-the-moment decision to go to Luby's because King didn't frequent the establishment like most townsfolk. She was one of the few people to be eating alone.
Also on their lunch breaks were Thomas Simmons and Louis Caraballo, two employees at the local Wal-Mart. Caraballo considered going to a drive-thru for fast food. But it was Simmons who was driving. He veered off the highway. "Let's go to Luby's."
Kirby Lack and Michael Griffith sat at a two-person table alongside the south windows. The Gratia family couldn't sit at their usual spot due to the crowd of people; they found a table near the east wall. Suzanna's manager friend, Mark Kopenhaffe, sat with them for a few minutes. He noticed that the serving line was packed and one of the cashiers seemed to be having trouble with the register. "Excuse me," he told them. "I have to go take care of some things." Sylvia King was also eating near the east wall. In the serving line, she had been told by a stranger (Dee Leasure): "I see two boys in the line who keep looking at you. I think they're gonna try and chat with you." King chuckled and said that she was flattered, but she was already spoken for. Thomas Simmons and Louis Caraballo found an empty table a few feet from the serving line. Just our luck, Caraballo told himself.
A planter stood in the center of the dining room, with a lattice in each common direction (north, east, south, west). Bernard and Venice Henehan had come down from Missouri because their granddaughter was getting married in Houston. They were joined by their daughter Judy and son-in-law Steven Ernst, as well as two family friends. The group was eating northwest of the planter; the two Henehans sat with their backs facing the north lattice.
Griffith and Lack ate their food. Their usual conversation about life, and faith, turned morbid when Griffith explained his fear of having "only three people show up" to his funeral if he ever died prematurely. Lack knew that his friend was also having a bit of financial difficulty and reassured him that everything was going to be okay. "Mike," he told him. "You're my buddy. I love ya. If something ever happens to ya, I'll be there at your funeral." This seemed to please the veterinarian, who jokingly said: "Alright. Make that four people at my service."
The bustling lunchtime atmosphere carried on. Suzanna and her parents had finished their meal and were about to leave. A few tables away, retirees Barbara Nite and Kriemhild "Kitty" Davis drank coffee while Davis showed photos of her four-month-old grandchild. The two women were in no rush to leave. Nite also had a slice of pie that left her with a bill of $2.68; her purse was a mess and she had trouble finding exact change. Dee Leasure was dining with co-worker Glen Spivey. He was known as "the man who could fix anything"--not only that, he was like a father-figure to her. They enjoyed each other's company. Spivey told her that he was craving fried okra so they went on over the cafeteria. Leasure wanted to leave when she saw the large crowd, but she had relented as the serving line moved.
Tommy Vaughn, a 28-year-old mechanic, was at the cafeteria to celebrate the birthday of his co-worker, Paul LaBombard. Vaughn and seven other employees from the Mazda dealership had come to spend time with LaBombard before their grueling shifts resumed. Standing at six-foot-six and weighing almost 350 pounds, Tommy Vaughn could've been mistaken for a pro-wrestler had he not been in his uniform. A frequent visitor of Luby's, Vaughn loved the restaurant's desserts, but on this day--wanting to cut back on sugar--he skipped the enticing sweets and made his way into the northeast corner of the dining room to join his buddies. This simple action probably saved his life from what was about to happen.
Kirby Lack took another bite of his food. Nite found a five-dollar bill that she could use for her tab. The serving line began to move at a faster pace. In the parking lot, Eddie Sanchez was dropping off his pregnant girlfriend Angela Wilson, a part-time Luby's employee. Sanchez was about to start driving when he saw a flash a blue coming from the lot's west entrance. That guy's going too damn fast, he thought. The 1987 Ford pickup sped past Sanchez's vehicle at high speed. James and Judy Pfau were walking towards the entrance of Luby's and saw the truck coming. "He's going to hit us!" Mrs. Pfau screamed. Her husband quickly jerked her out of the way as they watched the destruction commence.
Hennard's Rampage (12:39 - 12:51pm)
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Kirby Lack heard the truck before he saw it. Rubber against asphalt; the wretched noise of squealing tires. Griffith heard it, too. Lack peeked out of the cafeteria's curtains just in time to see a blue pickup swerve past his own parked truck. He knew what was about to happen. From behind the curtains, the whole thing seemed to play out like a slow-motion film sequence. Lack saw the man's eyes. They were as white as eggs; wide and ready, full of adrenaline. Lack stood up quickly to brace himself. The floor-to-ceiling window shattered. Glass flew in all directions. The pickup truck came to a sudden halt near the cash registers. Suzanna saw that it was still bouncing on its shock absorbers. Shrieks of pain erupted; several people, and their tables, had been knocked over. Louis Caraballo was one of them. Lying on his side, facing away from the wreckage, he groaned. He'd literally been thrown from his seat.
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Of course, people thought it was an accident. Did he have a heart attack? Did his breaks fail? Susan Hester, who had been dining with co-workers in the southeast corner, stared at the vehicle; something told her that the truck's entrance had been intentional. Several patrons ran over to help those who were hit. Kirby Lack, who knew first aid and was certified in CPR, stepped towards the bumper. Suzanna also took a few steps towards the wreckage. My God, that's right where we usually sit, she thought. Dr. Michael Griffith turned around to check on an elderly couple who had been sitting only a few feet from the broken window, clearly startled. Thomas Simmons, who had managed to move out of the way, ran towards the driver's door with his arm reaching out for the handle. With the window already rolled down, the driver extended his own arm out towards Simmons. Bang! The 33-year-old man fell onto his knees. He saw the 9mm Glock 17 semi-automatic and tried to brace himself by covering his face. Bang! Bang! Bang! Simmons fell flat onto his back, dead. A wave of silence fell over the restaurant; Suzanna felt her blood run cold and Lack froze. The realization was horrible and chilling. Someone screamed. Barbara Nite, who thought the truck was going to catch on fire and explode, got up from her seat, ready to run. But Kitty Davis pulled her down onto the floor after the first shot rang out. "No, Barbara!" she whispered. "Get down! That man's got a gun!" In seconds, patrons dove underneath their tables or toppled them over as a makeshift barrier. Those in the serving line, who had little protection, hit the floor. Zona Mae Lynn, and a few others, took the opportunity to hide underneath the waiting benches.
Still in his truck, George Hennard shot the already-injured Louis Caraballo. Then he aimed towards the west wall, where Glen Spivey and Dee Leasure were sitting. Frozen in her seat, Leasure felt something strike her cheek with terrifying velocity. There was no pain, but the force had jerked her body back. She thought, for some reason, it had been glass from the window, or debris. She looked over at Glen, who was unscathed, then realized that they were too far away for any object to have hit them. Leasure saw the gun and knew right then and there what had happened. "Glen," she gasped. "I've been shot!" In a desperate attempt to protect his friend, Glen Spivey ushered Dee Leasure past the bathroom alcove, hoping to hide in the walkway that led towards the kitchen. But more shots rang out, and they hit the floor instead. Spivey covered Leasure with his body.
The shooter emerged from his truck. "This is for the women of Belton!" Kirby Lack saw him. The man was six-foot-one, weighing no more than 140 pounds. He was awful-looking; his face, while having handsome features, was twisted with a look of insane determination. From a forty-degree angle, Hennard fired towards the waiting area as Lack dove underneath a table with Lt. Col. Steven Dody and John Romero, Jr. "This is for what Bell County did to me and my family! This is payback! Was it worth it?" Hennard shouted as he unloaded his weapon at point-blank range. Walking swiftly from his truck, he saw the table of K.I.S.D (Killeen Independent School District) employees and shot James Swift in the foot. Susan Hester closed her eyes to pray as Mary Roberts kept her eyes open to track Hennard's movements; she was nauseous and her heart was racing--she could only stay calm if she allowed herself to keep looking. Hennard turned around and shot Olgica Taylor in the leg before moving towards the central planter.
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The Ford Ranger had stopped right next to the table of the Isdale family. Hennard was close. Jean Isdale watched as her son and daughter-in-law shielded the body of their baby, Summer, who was still in her carrier. Hennard ignored them and instead shot through the gap between the north and west lattices. The first shot struck Steven Ernst in the stomach. The next one hit Judy; the bullet went through her arm and struck her mother Venice Henehan, killing her. Ernst clutched his wound as blood began to seep through his shirt. Bernard Henehan and the two family friends remained unharmed.
Taking a few steps from the central planter, Hennard shot at Barbara Nite and Kitty Davis. The bullet entered Nite's ankle and destroyed three of Davis's fingers as it exited. Nite kept still, refusing to flinch or move. She could only see the shooter from the waist down. Near their table, a man and his pregnant wife laid next to each other. The husband, James Guillette, kept track of Hennard's movements; as soon as he got the opportunity, he was going to jump him. "Quit moving!" his wife Celia whispered. "He might kill us if you don't stop!" Like Nite, she could only see the shooter's waist and legs, but she also saw the gun being aimed downward at someone. Without thinking, Celia began to recite the Lord's Prayer out loud.
From a crouching position underneath his table, Kirby Lack saw Hennard walk back towards the truck's tailgate. His pace fastened as he changed directions and came towards the south windows. Lack watched in horror as Romero appeared from underneath the table on his knees. Before he could figure out what the young man had been trying to do, Romero took a bullet to the chest and fell backward. Lack and Dody shifted over to him as Romero's white shirt began to turn a gruesome shade of red. His breathing became heavy; he didn't speak and all Romero managed to do was cross his legs as his eyes began to flutter. Hennard then injured Michael Griffith with two bullets: one to the leg, the other to his chest. Griffith braced himself with his back against the wall. He tried to stand but his body was too weak. Next to him, Hennard fired into the prone bodies of James and Lula Welsh, the same elderly couple that Griffith had tried to comfort moments earlier.
Meanwhile, the employees of Luby's found their escape route through the kitchen thanks to a standard emergency exit. They escaped the building while two others found makeshift hiding spaces; 17-year-old Mark Matthews crawled into an industrial dishwasher and Maria Serna, in the midst of the fleeing chaos, panicked and ran towards the large refrigerator, placing a crate of milk cartons in front of her as she hid amongst the frozen foods. Despite great concealment within the kitchen, Serna continued to hear gunshots from the dining room. For a few moments, the shooter appeared to be close, then the shots would fade, indicating a great distance.
The slide of Hennard's primary weapon locked open; the gun was empty. Lack stood up and clutched onto a rolling chair--a million thoughts racing through his mind: Should I throw something at him? Tackle him? Make a run for it? But, almost as soon as he stood up, a metallic click made him pause. Dody peeked up from underneath the table. "My God!" the lieutenant colonel said. "He's reloading!" Hennard had released the spent magazine and pulled a new one out of his shirt pocket. He turned towards Lack's table, shooting Dody in the chest. Hennard then shot Lack in the back upper hip, with the bullet traveling into his abdomen. "Was it worth it?" Hennard asked the patrons aloud. "The women of Belton and Killeen are vipers!" He walked back towards the planter, firing rapidly. The glass plates and cups that were on the table exploded above Barbara Nite, with the remnants falling just inches from her body. Hennard continued to fire, sending three shots into the back torso of Kitty Davis. He moved over to the southeast end and peeked underneath a table, spotting TU Electric employees Debra Gray and Su-Zann Rashott. Hennard executed both women with close-range shots to the head. In that same area, he killed Ruth Pujol, who was right in front of Susan Hester.
A deadly silence had fallen over the restaurant as Hennard went on with his killing spree. People prayed quietly while others only made noise when they were hit. Those in the serving line were too scared to move towards the front doors, fearing that Hennard could come around the corner at any moment. Seated in the back of the restaurant, Betty Lou Cooper and her daughter, Jodie Rasberry, had seized their own opportunity to escape. While Hennard was executing people in the south end, the two of them stayed low to the floor and crawled towards the women's bathroom, barricading the door with their bodies. They listened carefully as gunfire came towards the north side. Hennard passed by the Gratia family and killed Nancy Stansbury. His next victim was Juanita Williams, who died from several gunshots to the stomach. It is unknown how Sylvia King spent her last moments (since she had been eating alone), but the beauty shop owner was later found right next to Jimmie Caruthers, who was also deceased. At some point during the carnage, Hennard began to use his other gun--a Ruger P89 pistol.
An overturned table and plates on the floor show only a glimpse of the chaos experienced by the dining patrons.
Hennard veered toward the west, spotting Glen Spivey and Dee Leasure. Moments prior, Leasure had seized a gray bin that was used to hold dirty dishes and placed it over her head, fearing that her gender and blonde hair would make her an ideal target. Hennard came closer and raised his weapon. Spivey was still on top of Leasure, concealing most of her body at this point. "Oh, God....no--" A bullet cracked and Spivey's body slumped. Leasure gasped as she felt something warm touch her. "Hold on, hold on," she desperately whispered to her friend. With her face still touching the carpet, Leasure scrambled from underneath his body and saw the damage: Spivey had been struck in the forehead. He took a final breath as Leasure tried to compose herself. She wondered if Spivey had turned to face the shooter, presenting himself as a target to save her life. Leasure looked over towards the planter and saw an elderly woman shaking with fear. Desperate to hold on to a living hand, she crawled over to the stranger. Hennard fired again. Unlike her previous wound, Leasure felt extreme pain as a bullet entered her thigh. She continued to crawl, finally reaching the woman. "Was it worth it?!" Hennard shouted at them. "No!" the two women screamed, cradling each other.
Behind her table, Suzanna Gratia Hupp peered over to see the shooter. After the first shots had rung out, she was waiting for an explanation. Not once did Hennard demand money; Suzanna quickly ruled out robbery as the motive. Is there someone in here that he's trying to put a hit on? No. He killed anyone who was in his path. It took a good forty-five seconds--which felt like an eternity--for Suzanna to realize that he was simply going to take his time, walk around, and execute people. When he got closer, Suzanna was ready to be hit--then she remembered: Oh, I got him now! She reached down towards her purse, ready to pull out her Smith & Wesson light .38 revolver. But then her stomach sank as she realized that she had made the biggest mistake of her life a few months prior. At the time, it was illegal to carry a concealed weapon in the state of Texas. Suzanna had gotten the gun when she was twenty-one after moving to Houston. Her friend, who was a district attorney, had gifted the weapon to her and taught her how to use it. "Susie," he had said. "Nobody's gonna mess with you if you have that gun. The world is a violent place. You don't see it every day, but I do!" All those years later and here's where fate had brought her. She was in a crowded cafeteria with a madman; her gun was a hundred feet away in her car, completely useless. Like a law-abiding citizen, Suzanna did not bring her gun into the restaurant because--if she'd gotten caught with it--she would get arrested and lose her chiropractor's license. Realizing this, Suzanna looked around for something to defend herself with. Great, she thought. What do I do now... throw a salt shaker at him?
Al Gratia took Suzanna's attention. "I've gotta do something! He's gonna kill everybody in here!" Suzanna looked over at her father. "Yeah, but Dad you can't." She tried to hold him down. But when he saw what he thought was an opportunity, Gratia stood up and ran towards the shooter, with his arms stretched out to grab him. Hennard was a good fifteen feet away; Al Gratia managed to cover at least half of the distance before he was shot in the chest. The seventy-one-year-old World War II veteran collapsed onto his side in the aisle. Gratia was still alive when he hit the floor, but Suzanna saw the wound and knew right then and there that he was a goner. Luckily, Gratia's actions had altered Hennard's path. Instead of coming closer to their table, he went off to the left.
Another group of K.I.S.D employees came under fire. A shot passed by Maria Burrows, loud enough to muffle her hearing. When she opened her eyes, dazed by the ringing in her ear, Burrows saw that Patricia "Pat" Carney was dead. Hennard finally made his way towards the serving line, where dozens laid facedown, awaiting their demise. They were exposed, lacking the furniture and tables that dining room patrons had used for cover. George Osborne was shielding his wife Ethyl, covering her face to make sure that she did not witness any violence. Hennard came closer and the Osbornes held their breath. Bang! He shot and killed Clodine Humphrey, who was just a few inches away. Mr. Osborne felt the heat from the fired round but he and Ethyl were unharmed. Behind one of the waiting benches, Hennard saw Connie Miller and Roxanne Peters. His footsteps came closer and Peters was refusing to look up. "Trying to hide from me, bitch?" he spat. Hennard executed Miller with a shot to the back of the head. Peters felt her friend's body shake due to the vibration; not once did she even try to look. Hennard left her alone and turned towards those who had been hiding directly underneath the benches. He shot Rev. Shannon McMullen in the leg. Then Hennard shot Zona Mae Lynn, who was still underneath the bench, killing her instantly. He walked along the serving line, stopping at Charlene Smith. She waited for her turn but it never came. Apparently, Hennard's Ruger P89 was out of ammunition. He placed the gun on a tray of food and left the waiting area, now using his Glock 17 again.
The Ruger P89 was later found on a food tray.
Upon exiting the serving line, Hennard turned towards his right and saw Anica McNeil, who was holding her 3-year-old daughter, Lakeshia. He had previously wounded McNeil's mother, Olgica Taylor. Hennard saw Lakeshia and stepped aside for Anica McNeil and her child to run. "Get that kid out of here. I ain't killin' no babies today. Tell everyone that Bell County was bad!" Anica held onto Lakeshia, unsure if the shooter was being serious or just taunting her. With more rage, Hennard told her to run. Olgica gave her a look of "Just go!" and that's when Anica ran out of the restaurant with her toddler. Even as she entered the parking lot, she waited for one of Hennard's bullets to pierce her in the back. She kept running, making it to a next-door apartment complex with other survivors who had fled. When Olgica Taylor stood up--most likely trying to leave with her daughter and granddaughter--Hennard shot her in the face.
Still conscious, John Romero Jr. clutched onto his saturated shirt as Hennard was beginning his third lap around the dining room. Kirby Lack was facedown; he was in no pain but he had lost a good amount of blood from the wound in his hip. He laid there motionless, hoping that Hennard would keep walking. The shooter saw that Romero was still alive. Another round went into the young man's chest, rendering him still. In a final act of bravery, Lt. Col. Steven Dody shouted: "Why don't you just get out of here and leave us alone!" Bang! Lack felt Dody's body relax as he heard the man's death rattle. Michael Griffith, eager to check on his friend, crawled over to Lack, but he didn't get far. Bang! The pastor refused to move or react, but something told Hennard that he was alive. He kicked the pastor. Nothing. He bent down, straddling Lack's waist. Hennard then pulled his head off of the carpet by his hair, pointing the gun in the soft spot on the back of Lack's head. With his eyes closed, Lack said what he deemed to be his final prayer. THUD! BANG! The sound came from across the room. The distraction, while brief, had saved Kirby Lack's life. Hennard had looked up, shifting his gun right as it fired. Lack opened his eyes and saw the tear in the carpet, just a few inches from his face.
In the back of the restaurant, Tommy Vaughn and his co-workers had attempted to break the window next to them. This alerted the shooter and he left the south end. When kicking didn't work, Vaughn stood up, bracing himself. "Tommy, he's coming!" someone gasped. Vaughn knew that if he turned around to look at Hennard, he'd only freeze. Instead, he hurled his entire body through the glass as Hennard raised the gun. Now outside, Vaughn stood up and took off. An officer came running up to him as he was fleeing. "How bad is it?" the man asked him. "It's bad. Really bad!" Tommy Vaughn said, finally catching his breath. The makeshift escape route allowed others to flee the building. Vaughn was later credited with saving an estimated twenty lives thanks to his actions.
Tommy Vaughn hurled his own body through the window, allowing himself and others to escape.
After hearing the glass break, Suzanna thought: Oh God, here comes another one! Believing that Hennard had an accomplice, she waited for the voice of a second madman. But then she looked up and could see people escaping through a broken window while Hennard fired. When she saw her chance, Suzanna grabbed her mother Ursula by the shirt collar. "Come on! We gotta run!" It was like her feet grew wings. Suzanna made it to the window and the sunlight hit her face, indicating freedom from the carnage. She went towards the herd of onlookers and survivors. Manager Mark Kopenhaffe met her through the crowd. "Suzy! You're alright! Thank God!" Suzanna shook her head. "But my dad's been hit and it's bad!"
Back in the restaurant, 67-year-old Ursula Gratia crawled over to Al, who appeared to be drifting in and out of consciousness. Hennard turned and spotted her. He walked over to their spot, disregarding the potential victims who were running out of Vaughn's window. Ursula cradled Al's head in her lap. At that moment, a police officer came to the broken window. There had been no clear description of the shooter, but he saw a tall, dark-haired man pointing a gun at an elderly couple. Ursula Gratia looked up at Hennard, then bowed her head down towards Al. Bang! The officer recoiled, then radioed for backup. There were still too many people inside the restaurant for him to draw his gun and fire; surely an innocent bystander would be hit. Nevertheless, it was Ursula's sacrifice that bought others time to stand up and flee. She died, but not in vain; her death alerted the authorities as to who the shooter was. Her decision to stay behind was a no-brainer, as Suzanna would later realize. Al and Ursula Gratia had just celebrated their 47th wedding anniversary on October 3. She wasn't going anywhere without her husband.
In the parking lot, Officers Kenneth Olson and Chuck Longwell made their way toward the building. Olson was out of uniform, having just completed an undercover sting operation a few hours earlier. From the south window, they saw that Hennard had his gun pointed towards the floor. Knowing that he was about to execute someone else, Longwell quickly fired a warning shot into the ceiling. Hennard looked up, swore, and returned fire. "He's shooting at us!" Longwell shouted into his walkie-talkie. "I need units to go to the north side!" Officer Al Morris did just that.
Panicked, Hennard tried to reload his gun. But he was trying to put the Ruger's ammunition into the Glock 17. He cursed to himself before finding the right bullets. Olson and Longwell dove in through the curtains. Pop! A round went into the shooter's arm. Hennard ran toward the bathroom alcove. "Fuck you!" he screamed, ducking behind the wall. "I've got hostages!" Morris had a clear view; nobody was with the shooter. "No, you don't!" he taunted. Hennard continued to return fire. "I'll kill more fucking people! I swear!"
Morris managed to get to the restaurant's south end, as Longwell and Olson kept Hennard pinned down. He saw the bodies, worried that he wasn't going to find anyone alive. Then he saw Kirby Lack, who had raised his head up. "It's okay!" Morris said, placing a hand on the pastor's shoulder. "We're gonna flank him!" He then ducked behind a flimsy serving cart, coming to the other officers' aid. Morris drew his weapon and pulled the trigger. Bang! He moved closer, using the truck as a shield.
Bang! Bang! Hennard groaned as another round hit him, this time in his chest. "Drop your weapon!" Olson screamed. Instead, Hennard fell to the floor. He turned over onto his back and placed the gun to his right temple.
A final shot rang out. George Hennard laid still. His entire attack had only lasted twelve minutes.
A Horrible Crime Scene
Crime scene footage shows where Vaughn dove through the window.Those who could stand up and move quickly followed the officers' all-clear message. News vans pulled up, rolling their cameras as first-responders entered the building. A mass of bodies laid near the entrance where Hennard's truck had first made its presence. Anica McNeil still had no word of her mother's fate; Tommy Vaughn was being treated for the cuts on his arm and leg; Suzanna stood in the parking lot as her sister and brother-in-law arrived to make sure she was okay.
One responder later said that seeing all of the bodies on the ground reminded him of the Jonestown tragedy. They were told to check for a pulse and signs of life; if there were none, the emergency personnel should then move on and evaluate the next body.
Army doctors from Fort Hood arrive to help survivors.
A paramedic reached Kirby Lack. "Don't worry," the pastor was told. "The son-of-a-bitch is dead." He was lifted onto a backboard. "Wait. Is he alive?" Lack asked. Another medic reached over to check on Dr. Griffith. "No. I'm sorry." The realization was sickening but the pastor maintained his composure. "That's my friend," Lack said before they hauled him off. "His name is Michael Griffith. He doesn't have his wallet with him because we took my truck today."
Barbara Nite had managed to pull up the back of Kitty Davis' crocheted sweater, pressing down on the gunshot wounds with the thick cafeteria napkins. "Pray for me," Davis mumbled. After that, all she could do was moan. When the medics took over, they offered Nite a gurney. "What about her?" Nite said, gesturing to Davis. "She's more hurt than I am. I can still walk." She passed on the gurney and told them to take care of her friend.
Nearby, another gurney was brought in for Romero, who was still clinging to life. After concluding that Ursula Gratia was deceased, one of the paramedics noticed that Al Gratia had a faint pulse. Both men were taken out to the front doors, where EMTs and doctors from nearby Fort Hood tried to help. Romero took his last breath before he could be loaded into the ambulance. Gratia's chest wound proved too severe, and they covered his body with a white sheet as the cameras arrived. Suzanna pushed through the crowd, where a doctor informed her of her father's passing.
Medics tend to Alphonse \"Al\" Gratia, a World War II veteran who tried to jump the shooter during the rampage.
One medic came inside the restaurant after the others had begun to cart people off. He was informed to check the body in the alcove, which was being guarded by an officer. At first glance, the medic knew right away that there was no way on Earth this man could still be alive. The eyes were wide and haunting, with blood pooling over them. He checked the wrist for a pulse, then the neck. "He's dead," the medic announced. The officer looked over. "Hmm. Good riddance." That's all it took for the medic to realize that he'd just examined the shooter.
As the hours went by, the bodies were evacuated, hundreds of photographs were taken, and news reports all over the country were talking about Luby's Cafeteria. At least nine of the victims' names were released to the public as midnight hit Killeen. To those who walked inside of the building after the shooting, nothing could spur the images out of their mind. Lula Welsh's lifeless body had an arm draped around her husband, James; Ursula Gratia laid on her side, knees bent, still holding the cradling pose she had taken as Hennard walked over to her; Patricia Carney had lost both of her slide-on shoes as she dove underneath a table; Venice Henehan was facedown and, at first glance, it looked like she was sleeping; friends Debra Gray and Su-Zann Rashott were found face-up, with Gray's head resting close to Rashott's chest.
The original body map, not drawn to scale.
I recreated the body map, listing the names, and drawing it more to scale.
Aftermath
Kriemhild "Kitty" Davis, 62, had to have three fingers amputated due to extensive damage to her hand. She was placed into a medically-induced coma but passed away on October 19, three days after she was shot, bringing the death toll at Luby's to twenty-three. Barbara Nite suffered from nightmares and social anxiety in the months that followed but got help through counseling. She spoke about the shooting in 2002, remembering Kitty Davis as a loving soul. At the time of this Reddit post, Nite is still alive at the age of 90.Nite poses for her Texas Monthly article, where she spoke about her experience during the massacre.
Dee Leasure went on to be treated for her wounds; the bullet that struck her in the cheek was later found lodged in the soft tissue of her neck. The shot to her thigh ended up shattering her hip, requiring two pins and a screw to piece it back together. She credits Glen Spivey with saving her life and maintained close contact with his wife and children. Leasure struggled with anger and survivor's guilt, but she found comfort in returning to her job at Quail Creek Apartments, as well as being a mother to her children. Leasure still resides in Texas.
As of May 2020, Kirby Lack is still a pastor at Trinity Worship Center in Copperas Cove. He initially had trouble forgiving Hennard, once remarking: "If he was still alive and walking down the street, I'd reach over and rip his face off." For a few weeks after the tragedy, he walked with a cane due to his hip injury. While he was very close with Michael Griffith, Lack says that he "lost a total of seven friends that day." He was also one of the few people in the south end to survive after being shot. Within a ten-foot radius of Lack, there were nine dead bodies. Lack attributes his survival to divine intervention, stating: "[The shooter] knew how to handle guns; there's no way he should've missed me."
Two weeks after being released from the hospital, Kirby Lack visits Luby's.
Other survivors who were shot, such as Louis Caraballo, James Swift, and Steven and Judy Ernst went on to make full recoveries. Venice Henehan's granddaughter, Amy Ernst, postponed her wedding but got married a few months later.
Tommy Vaughn, pictured in 2016.
Tommy Vaughn still works as a mechanic and went on to lose over a hundred pounds through gastric bypass surgery. He looks back on the shooting and jokes, "I guess it was just God's plan for me to be over three hundred pounds that day." He also refuses to take credit for saving dozens of lives by smashing the window. "I broke the glass and they ran. I'm no hero."
Suzanna Gratia Hupp became an advocate for concealed-carry after losing both of her parents in the Luby's shooting
Suzanna Gratia Hupp went on to testify before Congress in favor of the 2nd Amendment. She argues that she and several other patrons were forced to leave their concealed weapons in the car due to "a cruel twist of gun control fate." She advocated for concealed-carry and went to serve as Texas State Representative for District 54 from 1997 to 2007. After the shooting, Gratia experienced anxiety and went on to start a family, where she taught her two sons "to always look for the exits, no matter where you go." She currently resides in Kempner with her husband, where they breed Arabian horses on their ranch. Today, it is now legal to carry a concealed weapon in the state of Texas.
Rare news footage from 1992 shows customers returning to Luby's Cafeteria.
The Luby's Cafeteria franchise donated $100,000 for funeral expenses. Other donations from across the country helped those who were injured pay their bills or rent since they couldn't work while recovering. The company also insisted on demolishing the Killeen Luby's. Suzanna Gratia Hupp, as well as other survivors, insisted that the building remain standing, because if they got rid of it then "the shooter would definitely win." The cafeteria underwent extensive remodeling and reopened its doors in March of 1992. The establishment went out of business in 2000. The building currently holds a Chinese-American buffet restaurant called Yank Sing.
The massacre at Luby's Cafeteria was the deadliest shooting by a lone gunman in U.S. history until Seung-Hui Cho opened fired at Virginia Tech in April 2007.
Remembering Those We Lost on October 16, 1991
In honor of those who lost their lives at Luby's. A memorial currently stands at the Killeen Community Center.https://preview.redd.it/ik18zbb8bz251.png?width=1790&format=png&auto=webp&s=7bff8ba2559f3f8e2f23d762f4ee392ec9768574
If you would like to pay tribute to the victims and their families, please visit the virtual Luby's memorial via Find A Grave.
Sources: Anatomy of a Massacre by Jason & Elinor Karpf; I Survived (Season 4, Episode 27)
