Platte Canyon turns page on dark chapter

James B. Meadow, Rocky Mountain News

Published June 2, 2007 at midnight

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BAILEY - Today, under a canopy of mountain sky, amid the impossibly serene backdrop of green hills and surging river, escorted by the optimistic strains of Pomp and Circumstance, 104 young adults will cross one of the brightest thresholds of their lives - 248 days after tripping over one of the darkest.

As Platte Canyon High School's graduation unfurls and recognition is paid to the latest brood of seniors and the paths they will travel, floating through the morning will be the gossamer presence of a high school junior who will never march through the sunlight with the Class of '08.

She was a smiling, elfin blonde whose yearbook entries include activities such as track, speech and volleyball. A girl whose name - spoken and unspoken - will percolate through a ceremony that the commencement speaker, principal and senior-class president all quietly agree will be "very different" from any of the 49 that have preceded it.

When 16-year-old Emily Keyes was murdered - and six other female classmates were sexually assaulted - by a gunman who inexplicably invaded the school on Sept. 27, "We suffered the terrible loss of a young lady and the loss of innocence from our school," says Park County Sheriff Fred Wegener, selected by the student council to give today's commencement address.

Wegener, who gave the order for SWAT teams to storm the school, is a 1981 Platte Canyon High graduate. He says he is "humbled" to be the main speaker, adding, "I'm looking forward to giving this speech because it's important. It's important for me to pay tribute to this class, to the entire community."

But Wegener insists he doesn't intend to deliver an elegy.

"I know it's going to be a little bit sad at the graduation, but at the same time, I'm going to tell the students, 'Don't forget about your dreams.' "

Wegener says that, above all, his main theme will be "Yes, we had a tragedy. But the students' ability to carry on, to get back under way with life - and the courage that it took - should be something we should always strive for."

A 'step toward healing'

Faced with the same challenge of straddling the silken line between respect for what happened and excitement about a shiny-new future is senior class President Cherese Smith.

"Most of us have grown up together since elementary school," Smith says. "I want my speech to be about the memories that we've all had together."

However, "I'll definitely talk about the tragedy that happened. How it helped us grow, made us stronger."

And all the while, she'll be thinking how "it's never seemed like it has been real. Unfortunately, it is, and you have to think about it like that. But I don't want to stand there and make everybody sad because graduation is supposed to be a huge, happy part of our lives.

"But I think if I can talk about how what happened changed us for the better, how everybody has 'random acts of kindness' going through our minds, that'll be good," she adds.

"I see it as another step toward healing," says Principal Bryan Krause, who will be one of those to speak after the ceremony begins with a moment of silence for Keyes - for all the victims of that horrible day, one of whom will be receiving her diploma.

Krause, who will be presiding over his fifth graduation, says, "It obviously will be a different event from those in the past. But I'd like to think of it as an opportunity to say thank you to the community for everything it's done - for everything the student body and staff have endured. A final celebration of the good we've seen."

There will also be a celebration of everything a high school graduation should be. Most importantly, there will be the protagonists, the Platte Canyon seniors, 10 percent of whom achieved perfect 4.0 grade-point averages, 75 percent of whom will be going on to institutions of higher learning.

There will be valedictorian Peter DeBiase's remarks about a senior class that has become "leviathans, giants ready to refine our strength and intellect and ultimately unleash it upon the world."

There will be The Star-Spangled Banner, sweetly sung by Jaime Todd.

There will be the procession of faculty; flapping flags and balloons ready to soar; the school band maybe missing an occasional note but nobody caring. There will be a hundred moments riding on a breeze of blissful normalcy.

A joyous crescendo

Trying harder than most to breathe in these moments, to sample the sweetness of their community on a day of celebration, will be two people whose lives still roil with their terrible loss.

"There have been some new, real difficult days lately," says John-Michael Keyes, Emily's father, alluding to the arrival of the school yearbook. "It just kind of caught me off guard." A long pause, then, "Another reminder of the finality."

Nevertheless, Keyes and his wife, Ellen Stoddard-Keyes, will almost certainly be among the 500 people filling the folding chairs on the athletic field, watching the parade of blue and white mortarboards, tassels and gowns.

"Living in a small town has some real benefits," John-Michael Keyes says. "And one of them is you get to know a lot of the kids."

The graduation, he feels, "is about bringing the community together. Yes, this happened, but we still go on. And we can go on with strength and dignity and even grief, but still revel in the joy of life."

Like the joy perhaps felt by Nissa Webster, who sang in church choir with Emily - a 20-year-old senior who quit school twice but always returned and will be thinking, "Thank God, I made it!" as she accepts her diploma and prepares for a career as a medical assistant.

Like the joy of Brock Friedrich, resident class clown and possible future psychologist, joy that will be masked with bravado and wisecracks, even as he's thinking, "It's kind of like, wow! Finally. The real world - ouch!"

Like the joy infusing the inevitable shouts of "You did it, buddy!" The joy glistening in tears that are shed; the joy fanning across the faces of Adam Adamo and Andrea Witte and the 102 names in between; the joy of moving your tassel left to right and flinging your cap high into the air.

Perhaps, too, like the joy of knowing you won't be here next year, when instead of 91 names being read, there will only be 90.

Then again, maybe not.

"With everything that's happened, believe me, I won't ever forget," says Aaron Vimont, 17, but, like his classmates, so much older. And then he adds, "But, ya know, I'm feeling OK. I'm ready to move on."

And what better time than graduation day? The perfect moment to move another step closer to the sunlight and leave the darkness farther behind.

meadowj@RockyMountainNews.com or 303-954-2606

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