Heidi Rathjen
By Heidi Rathjen, as told to Susan McClelland
It was the last hour of classes in the fall term; exams were coming up. That's where everyone's heads were at. A student came into the council room where I was sitting. He was really pale. He closed the door and said, "Someone is out there with a gun." He didn't say another word. Not long after, we heard the sound. It didn't sound like gunshots – what you hear on TV or in the movies – but like big planks of wood falling down.
I was in a state of complete disbelief. I remember lifting the seat off my chair and holding it up to protect myself. At some point there was silence. We waited until the police came and escorted us out. I saw knapsacks and books scattered on the floor. Outside, there were ambulances and lots of people running around. It was chaos. None of us knew what was going on.
I went to a friend's apartment and watched the news. That's when it sunk in: people had died. I discovered two days later that I knew two of the victims, Anne- Marie Lemay and Barbara Daigneault. After the funerals, I threw myself into the work that needed to be done in response to the massacre: setting up a memorial, visiting and sending flowers to the injured and dealing with the media. This made me feel less helpless. I wanted to go back to school. It was my second home and everyone knew what everyone else was feeling.
"Fighting for gun control legislation wasn't just a job. It was my mission."
When I went back in the new year, a couple of teachers and students started a petition for a law to ban assault and semi-automatic weapons. I got involved, and was soon put in charge. Wendy Cukier, who had founded Canadians for Gun Control earlier in December, called me and sort of became my mentor.
We, the students of L'École Polytechnique, had the sympathy of the country. But Wendy had the research and understood the issue of gun control. She knew what was needed to make a strong law.
Page 1 of 5 – Learn how Heidi's career goals have changed since the tragedy on page 2.
