Kelly Fleming discussion and curiosities

hello, im looking for information about Kelly Fleming, what was her favorite song, favorite movie, whether they are photos from the library where he sat exactly? I think that if she pretended dead it could survive. the internet is the very little information and I was interested in her character, I wrote to her dad on Facebook but unfortunately did not answer. I am Polish and I'm new here.

She is not as famous sa Rachel or Cassie, so there isn't much information about her. I think I remember she was working on her autobiography around the time she was killed, that's about all I know. Also she was out in the open because there weren't enough tables for everyone, it's very unlikely she would have survived.

I read that Eric was shot when she tried to change the place. sad that her dad does not answer, I wanted to see the document after Columbine families but unfortunately is not available in Poland;(

Lucy wrote:

I read that Eric was shot when she tried to change the place. sad that her dad does not answer, I wanted to see the document after Columbine families but unfortunately is not available in Poland;(

What's so interasting about her anyway? From what I gathered, she was just an ordinary girl that happened to get shot. I wouldn't want to bother the families if the don't answer the first time.

some are interested in Rachel, Cassie. and I'm interested in Kelly, when I was her age, also I liked to write poems, I learned to play the guitar, maybe because I feel closeness to her

Lucy wrote:

some are interested in Rachel, Cassie. and I'm interested in Kelly, when I was her age, also I liked to write poems, I learned to play the guitar, maybe because I feel closeness to her

Makes sense. Try looking up the 11k for more information about her and her death.

Poem Kelly wrote:

I step outside what did I hear?

I heard whispers and

The cries of people's fear.

The loneliness of wisdom,

Can that be?

The sad, sad sorrow that I see,

That is past in the tree.

Is it true? Can it be real?

Can I let them know how I really feel?

The things that I have seen,

The things that I have felt,

The feelings of sorrow that

I hope will soon melt.

I walked through the distances

And thought how it should be,

Of the smiles and the laughter,

That is what I thought it should be.

But can that be?

I walked past the dark houses,

And crossed the open fields.

I walked to the tree to kneel

I took a deep long breath

Then I closed my eyes.

I counted to three,

Then I open my eyes,

I was in my room,

That was a surprise.

But then I had seen that it was just a dream.

I walked to the window and pulled on the string.

What surprise to see the sunrise.

In the distance were children with laughter and happiness,

That was the thought that I like to see!

But of course can that really be?

Or can this be another dream?

Kelly Ann Fleming

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Columbine Angel

After her daughter was killed at Columbine High School, she thought hope would never return.

My husband, Don, and I pulled into the high school parking lot that cold December afternoon. It had been 20 months since the shootings. Twenty months, and still I could hardly bear to look at that building.

Sometimes it seemed like only 20 minutes since the April day in 1999 when we waited with the hundreds of other frantic parents for our children to make their way through the cordon of police and emergency vehicles surrounding Columbine High School. Some of the kids came out crying, frightened, stunned. Some were rushed from the school in ambulances.

One teacher and 12 students, including our 16-year-old Kelly, did not come out. For a day and a half they remained where they had died while investigators pieced together an account of two teenage boys who had fallen into the grip of a terrible evil—the evil that seemed to me to hover still about the place where it happened.

Like most of the others, Kelly was killed in the library, crouching beneath a table as bullets ricocheted through the room. Just inside those windows! I thought as Don got out of the car. Right behind that curved steel-and-glass facade. It was too much to bear. I turned my head away, unable to look.

It had been weeks before the examination of the crime scene was complete and police let the families visit the site. It was important to me to see the place where Kelly had tried to hide. I needed to pray at the spot, outlined in white on the floor, kneel where she died. But if I thought actually going to the library would ease its menace, I was wrong. The bullet-scarred walls, the splintered tabletops, a shattered computer screen—violence and hate were still palpable there.

We live just two blocks from the high school, and for a long time I could not even drive by it, taking long, bizarre detours for the simplest errands. But for Don's sake, and for our older daughter, Erin, I had to pick up my life again. And what helped most was remembering how Kelly loved angels.

From the time she was tiny, Kelly and I had shared a special affection for these messengers of God. I can still hear her piping little voice, at age three, reciting the verse on the little guardian angel card my mother had given her:

"Angel of God, my guardian dear
to whom his love commits me here,
ever this day be at my side
to light and guard,
to rule and guide."

Kelly loved that card. I'd often see it on her dresser top or catch sight of it with her schoolbooks. When she was older we would sit together on the sofa and watch Touched by an Angel. We never missed an episode. We bought the soundtrack CD too, and would sing along in the car, just the two of us.

For Kelly and me, angels were our shorthand for "God is near!" And his nearness is what made her such a happy child—a girl who woke in the morning with a smile and literally skipped through the day, blue eyes sparkling, long blonde hair swishing behind her.

That's what gave the library its peculiar horror for me. Kelly was such a gentle, trusting little soul to die amid such evil! I'd given her a poem about angels that she kept in a frame on her bedroom wall. After she died I'd step into her room again and again and read it, lingering over one line especially: "Angels are with you every step of the way and help you soar with amazing grace." I wanted to believe an angel had been beside her that day, with her beneath that table, helping her soar above the terror.

Almost as though they knew I needed them, people sent angel figurines along with their condolences. They came from friends, neighbors, total strangers—china angels, metal angels, wooden angels. An eight-year-old daughter of a friend tried to count the angel images in our house one day and gave up at 175—and every one of those angels whispered to me that Kelly was fine.

Only around the library was I unable to feel comfort. Not that we hadn't tried to exorcise the evil from that place. The school district at first wanted to repair and refurbish the space, but Don and I and the other parents believed that no child should ever again be asked to study there. God brought us together in an organization we called HOPE—Healing of People Everywhere—to raise money for a brand-new library building.

What began as a fund-raising effort among the families was caught up by the whole community, then by the entire nation and even beyond. The new school building was under construction now—Don had driven in that afternoon, as he often did, to check on its progress. "I'll stay in the car," I told him. I'd visited the building site with the other families just a few days earlier.

The new library posed no terrors. It seemed to me a sign of life continuing, life affirmed. It was the presence of the old site that continued to oppress and upset me. I glanced reluctantly at it through the car window. Its exterior was unchanged, but inside, I knew, nothing was left of the old facility. Architects had come up with a design that preserved the cafeteria on the ground floor, while entirely removing the second floor where the library had been.

The cafeteria now had a spacious atrium feel, bright and light, with a beautiful mural of trees on the high ceiling, drawing the eye upward. Students and faculty of Columbine High School had a space that all could enter without fear. With the other families, we'd see to it that no physical trace of the tragedy remained.

Yet for me, the place still menaced. I turned my back on it and stared the other way out the car window. I need to know that Kelly's all right, Lord, I prayed. I need to know she's happy and at peace.

Turn around. Look at the building. The nudge didn't come from me. That building was the last thing in the world I wanted to look at. I wrenched my head around...and blinked in astonishment.

Something bright was moving across those upper windows! Something shimmering and glowing, gliding slowly past the glass exactly where the old library had been.

Open-mouthed I stared while the unmistakable figure of an angel hovered over that second story. Wings, radiant hair, flowing garment—no artist could have rendered a heavenly messenger of comfort more gloriously.

I sat awestruck, seeing, yet scarcely believing. Even here, even here! Your angel was here with Kelly, just as you are with her always and forever.

How long did the vision last—15 seconds? However brief the time on a clock, I knew the angel had given me a lifetime of assurance. In the midst of all the evil that ever was and ever will be, God is present. God is with us. God is stronger.

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The Gift of an Angel

It’s been nearly two years since the day in December 2000 that I saw an angel. I think about her every day. She continues to bring me peace and to reassure me that my daughter Kelly is never far away and is in a most amazing place.

Kelly, my 16-year-old daughter, was killed in the library at Columbine High School in April 1999. Even as I write these words it still doesn’t seem possible. Kelly was a gentle little soul and for her to have died amid such hatred and violence, amid such evil is beyond belief.

It’s because of Kelly’s death that I happened to find myself at Columbine High School the week before Christmas 2000. Construction had begun on the new HOPE Columbine Memorial Library at the school. My husband and I were on our way home and he decided to swing into the parking lot and take a look at the progress on the new building. As I had just been at the site a few days earlier with some of the other families, I decided to remain in the car while he left to take a look.

The way he pulled into the parking lot, I suddenly found myself gazing up at the windows where the old library had been. I began talking to Kelly and praying to God that she was truly happy and at peace. Almost immediately a movement caught my eye and I realized there was a figure moving across the window of the old library. I knew instantly I was looking at an angel! There wasn’t a doubt in my mind. She was so clear to me. She was elegant and she was gliding or floating across the front of the building.

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I was elated, overjoyed and very thankful!

It all happened so fast. I sat there wishing I had a camera and then realized I did. I reached down, grabbed the camera and got the window down, all the while trying to keep the angel in my sight. She had begun to lose her perfect shape and I quickly took the picture hoping I had caught some of her. She had stated out so perfectly one moment and then began to fade and was gone within 15 or 20 seconds.

I sat there smiling, thanking God and Kelly for their gift. I reviewed in my mind what had just happened…I saw an angel! I knew she had a flowing gown and flowing hair and I thought she had something in here hands; perhaps she was playing a flute or horn.

I knew this angel was an answer to my prayer. I felt she was sent to comfort me and bring me a message form my sweet Kelly, “I am here with you always Mom and I am happy and I am at peace.”

I felt such a sense of peace and so incredibly blessed to have been given such a gift. I wasn’t able to speak of the angel when my husband returned to the car and for the next few weeks I continued to replay the whole experience over and over in my head and my heart.

When I saw the photograph for the first time, I realized instantly that I had seen this angel before. Her halo was still visible just above her head. Her gown and hair flowed behind her as she glided across the front of the building. Her hands still outstretch before her as though clasping the star she held on my Christmas cards. She was the same angel that had brought me much comfort during the previous weeks, as I had been making Christmas cards using an angel stamp and markers. I had stamped and colored this same angel on my Christmas cards, during my lunch breaks and in the evenings over and over again.

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Though the angel I saw at Columbine was fading quickly by the time I took the picture, there is no doubt in my mind that the same angel on my Christmas cards was seen tot comfort me again that day and bring me a message from my dear Kelly Ann. That message filled my heart with joy and continues to carry me through each and every day.

Look at this picture now I can see yet another message…

Rest assured this space where pure evil walked not so very long ago has been heaven blessed and truly touched by an angel.

I believe our world and the next are not all that far apart. The angel God sent to bring me a message that day was amazing! I believe that not only was she a gift to me at that moment but because I was able to take her picture and can share here I believe she is truly a gift to us all. I know she carries with her a message of peace and hope for everyone.

One final note – A week or two after getting my picture back I was headed into Mass. As is usually the case I was having one of my many conversations with God and asked that He somehow let me know it would be okay to share this angel He had sent to me. I really wanted to tell my story and share the picture I had taken. Well, I didn’t have long to wait…Mass began and the first Responsorial Psalm was read,

“In the sight of angels I will sing your praises Lord!”

I had my answer.

Dee Fleming

Kelly Fleming DOB: January 6 1983

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Item [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] Blue Leather Purse was under Table [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]

Item [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] Green Jansport Backpack w/ contents was on Table [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]

Item [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] Algebra Book, Notebook, Paper on Table [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]

Page 011753: She was wearing blue jeans, white socks, black t-shirt w/ white stenciled alien on front, black tennis shoes w/ white soles, black bra, white panties.

Page 012250: Victim [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.], later identified as KELLY FLEMING, was found lying on the floor in a prone position to the southeast of Table 2. She was dressed in a black shirt, denim pants and black/white tennis shoes. An entry wound consistent with a shotgun discharge was present in the lower left back of the body. The plastic shotgun cup/wad was present in the wound tract. Several associated pellet holes were present adjacent to the main entry wound. Drainage of blood from the wound was minimal and consistent with the position of the body as found. Drainage of blood from the nose/mouth area was consistent with the position of the body as found. No other bloodstains were present on the body. Photographs were taken of the position of the body, the bloodstains present on the body, and the bloodstains on the carpet surrounding the body.

Page 012253: Autopsy results from Dr. Dobersen on KELLY FLEMING indicated a single shotgun blast entered the lower left back, traveled straight upward, and the pellets were contained in the upper left back area. The acute angle of travel through the body indicated that the victim was in a prone or near prone position when shot.

FLEMING, KELLY

AUTOPSY REPORT

JCCO [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]

PATHOLOGICAL DIAGNOSES:

1. Penetrating shotgun wound to the trunk with:

A. Entrance, left lower back.

B. Recovery of projectiles, within projectile path, mainly within the left upper chest and left neck.

C. Perforating lacerations of the left kidney, left adrenal, stomach, esophagus, spleen, liver, bilateral lungs, heart and thoracic aorta.

D. Associated bilateral hemothoraces, hemopericardium, hemomediastinum and hemoperitoneum.

E. Fracture of the left hip (ilium) including associated hemoretroperitoneum.

2. Recent cutaneous abraded contusion of the right knee.

3. Early postmortem decomposition.

OPINION:

This 16-year-old female sustained a shotgun wound at her high school. She was pronounced dead at the scene. Her death is attributed to multiple visceral and vascular lacerations due to a penetrating shotgun wound to the trunk. Toxicologic analyses of body fluids obtained at the time of autopsy were negative. In view of the scene and circumstances surrounding the death and autopsy findings, the manner of death is classified as homicide.

She is a angel..

sororityalpha wrote:

Columbine Angel

After her daughter was killed at Columbine High School, she thought hope would never return.

My husband, Don, and I pulled into the high school parking lot that cold December afternoon. It had been 20 months since the shootings. Twenty months, and still I could hardly bear to look at that building.

Sometimes it seemed like only 20 minutes since the April day in 1999 when we waited with the hundreds of other frantic parents for our children to make their way through the cordon of police and emergency vehicles surrounding Columbine High School. Some of the kids came out crying, frightened, stunned. Some were rushed from the school in ambulances.

One teacher and 12 students, including our 16-year-old Kelly, did not come out. For a day and a half they remained where they had died while investigators pieced together an account of two teenage boys who had fallen into the grip of a terrible evil—the evil that seemed to me to hover still about the place where it happened.

Like most of the others, Kelly was killed in the library, crouching beneath a table as bullets ricocheted through the room. Just inside those windows! I thought as Don got out of the car. Right behind that curved steel-and-glass facade. It was too much to bear. I turned my head away, unable to look.

It had been weeks before the examination of the crime scene was complete and police let the families visit the site. It was important to me to see the place where Kelly had tried to hide. I needed to pray at the spot, outlined in white on the floor, kneel where she died. But if I thought actually going to the library would ease its menace, I was wrong. The bullet-scarred walls, the splintered tabletops, a shattered computer screen—violence and hate were still palpable there.

We live just two blocks from the high school, and for a long time I could not even drive by it, taking long, bizarre detours for the simplest errands. But for Don's sake, and for our older daughter, Erin, I had to pick up my life again. And what helped most was remembering how Kelly loved angels.

From the time she was tiny, Kelly and I had shared a special affection for these messengers of God. I can still hear her piping little voice, at age three, reciting the verse on the little guardian angel card my mother had given her:

"Angel of God, my guardian dear
to whom his love commits me here,
ever this day be at my side
to light and guard,
to rule and guide."

Kelly loved that card. I'd often see it on her dresser top or catch sight of it with her schoolbooks. When she was older we would sit together on the sofa and watch Touched by an Angel. We never missed an episode. We bought the soundtrack CD too, and would sing along in the car, just the two of us.

For Kelly and me, angels were our shorthand for "God is near!" And his nearness is what made her such a happy child—a girl who woke in the morning with a smile and literally skipped through the day, blue eyes sparkling, long blonde hair swishing behind her.

That's what gave the library its peculiar horror for me. Kelly was such a gentle, trusting little soul to die amid such evil! I'd given her a poem about angels that she kept in a frame on her bedroom wall. After she died I'd step into her room again and again and read it, lingering over one line especially: "Angels are with you every step of the way and help you soar with amazing grace." I wanted to believe an angel had been beside her that day, with her beneath that table, helping her soar above the terror.

Almost as though they knew I needed them, people sent angel figurines along with their condolences. They came from friends, neighbors, total strangers—china angels, metal angels, wooden angels. An eight-year-old daughter of a friend tried to count the angel images in our house one day and gave up at 175—and every one of those angels whispered to me that Kelly was fine.

Only around the library was I unable to feel comfort. Not that we hadn't tried to exorcise the evil from that place. The school district at first wanted to repair and refurbish the space, but Don and I and the other parents believed that no child should ever again be asked to study there. God brought us together in an organization we called HOPE—Healing of People Everywhere—to raise money for a brand-new library building.

What began as a fund-raising effort among the families was caught up by the whole community, then by the entire nation and even beyond. The new school building was under construction now—Don had driven in that afternoon, as he often did, to check on its progress. "I'll stay in the car," I told him. I'd visited the building site with the other families just a few days earlier.

The new library posed no terrors. It seemed to me a sign of life continuing, life affirmed. It was the presence of the old site that continued to oppress and upset me. I glanced reluctantly at it through the car window. Its exterior was unchanged, but inside, I knew, nothing was left of the old facility. Architects had come up with a design that preserved the cafeteria on the ground floor, while entirely removing the second floor where the library had been.

The cafeteria now had a spacious atrium feel, bright and light, with a beautiful mural of trees on the high ceiling, drawing the eye upward. Students and faculty of Columbine High School had a space that all could enter without fear. With the other families, we'd see to it that no physical trace of the tragedy remained.

Yet for me, the place still menaced. I turned my back on it and stared the other way out the car window. I need to know that Kelly's all right, Lord, I prayed. I need to know she's happy and at peace.

Turn around. Look at the building. The nudge didn't come from me. That building was the last thing in the world I wanted to look at. I wrenched my head around...and blinked in astonishment.

Something bright was moving across those upper windows! Something shimmering and glowing, gliding slowly past the glass exactly where the old library had been.

Open-mouthed I stared while the unmistakable figure of an angel hovered over that second story. Wings, radiant hair, flowing garment—no artist could have rendered a heavenly messenger of comfort more gloriously.

I sat awestruck, seeing, yet scarcely believing. Even here, even here! Your angel was here with Kelly, just as you are with her always and forever.

How long did the vision last—15 seconds? However brief the time on a clock, I knew the angel had given me a lifetime of assurance. In the midst of all the evil that ever was and ever will be, God is present. God is with us. God is stronger.

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Great post. Thanks for sharing. Even though I am not religious, I'm glad Kelly's mom is comforted. Kelly seemed like such a gentle soul and a really lovely girl.

I know the original poster's intentions are good, but I do wish people would leave the families of all involved alone, unless they've made it clear that they're open to respectful discussions like Tom Mauser has.

Touching words from her mother, I'm glad she was able to find some form of solace. I can't imagine what it must be like to lose a child, especially in such a horrific way.

Born January 6, 1983
16 years old

Kelly Fleming and her family moved to Littleton from Phoenix, Arizona 18 months before the shooting. Her father Don said they scoured the area looking for a good neighborhood where their daughters would be safe. Kelly was a shy and creative girl who loved Halloween and was an aspiring songwriter and author who wrote many poems and short stories based on her life experiences. She had been writing an auto-biography on her home computer: She started when her mom's water broke and had gotten as far as her fifth year. She often went to Columbine's library to write; her stories often had happy endings.

Kelly was learning to drive and wanted to get a job at a day care center, and save enough money to buy a Mustang or a Corvette. She longed to be able to drive so she could return to Phoenix for a visit or go on road trips. She loved to read, especially books about vampires. One day she hoped to be a published author and often entered writing contests.

Her mother, Dee, remembered Kelly coming home from school two months before the shooting, saying: "I'm not shy any more."

When the shooters entered the library, Kelly was hiding beside a table with other girls who she had been sitting with: Lisa Kreutz, Jeanna Park, Diwata Perez, Valeen Schnurr, and Lauren Townsend. At one point Dylan Klebold fired under the table, injuring Val and Lisa. He fired his gun again, killing Lauren. Both gunmen reloaded their weapons and taunted Val, asking her if she believed in God. The shooters then moved away from Kelly's table, moving to another table where they shot Nicole Nowlen and killed John Tomlin before coming back to the girls's table. Coming up from behind, he shot Kelly in the back with his sawed-off shotgun.

Her body was found on the floor near that of Lauren Townsend. Kelly's father said: "Here's one of the real leaders of the school, and our Kelly was next to someone like that. I'm sure Lauren took care of Kelly. She wasn't alone." He also said he prayed for the parents of the shooters. "They'll have a tougher time getting over this than we will."

Kelly's funeral was held at the same time as Daniel Mauser's at the St. Frances Cabrini Catholic Church. She was buried with two teddy bears in her arms. Her grave is located at Mount Olivet Cemetery in Wheat Ridge, Colorado.

I don't mean this in a rude or hateful way, but does anyone else think that Kelly's facial structure resembled Dylan?

maybe a little but it is because Kelly was born with a small jaw.

hvernon wrote:

I don't mean this in a rude or hateful way, but does anyone else think that Kelly's facial structure resembled Dylan?

kinda. They both have long faces with large chin.

Ever since the beginning of my Columbine fascination, Kelly Fleming has been interesting to me. No idea why. I hope one day we can learn more about this one here.

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I regret to her sister ;(

Oh god that is heartbreaking.

I know ;( Curious what Kelly song she liked the most, and the movie. So little information about her ;(

I once found a thing written about her on spring break, YEARS ago. I think it wan an uncle of something who wrote it, I am not sure. But now it is nowhere to be found.

Try to find it (i would like to know about Kelly all .i live in Poland and there is no information about her...

I will do my best!

Kelly was 16 years old and an aspiring songwriter and author. She wrote scores of poems and short stories based on her life experiences. On her computer, Kelly wrote her biography. She started with the beginning, when her mothers water broke, and she came into this world. She had gotten to age 5.

Kelly was not an outgoing, charismatic person. She expressed herself best on paper. Often, after school, she would drift into her math teacher's office, where she would share her latest work.

"Math certainly wasn't her favorite subject," said Jud Blatchford, who taught her math last year and first semester this year. "She was more of an artsy-type person." Even so, Kelly shared her poems and stories with Blatchford.

"She was really shy. She would never read them to me," he said. Instead, she would hand over the paper and let Blatchford absorb the words himself.

She often wrote about herself, about the struggles she faced. They sometimes started with themes of sorrow and depression, but moved on to a sense of safety and happiness by their conclusion.

"She was one of the kindest students I've ever had," Blatchford said.

He will serve as one of her pall bearers during her funeral at St. Frances Cabrini Catholic Church. , and was eager to get her driver`s license and a part-time job.

Kelly was eager to get her driver`s license and wanted a part-time job at a daycare center so she could save enough money to by a Mustang or a Corvette.
She was going to learn to play the guitar.
Kelly moved from Phoenix 18 months ago when her father got a job transfer to Denver. "We scoured the city to find a great neighborhood and a great school, somewhere where the girls would be safe," her dad, Don Fleming, said.

"It was hard to uproot", said her mother, Diedra. "But Kelly had made several good friends. She was your basic, normal, beautiful teenage girl."

The family of slain student Kelly Fleming has started writing the text for her spot: "She was the usual teenager in 1999, shopping, talking on the phone, hanging out at the mail. Her favorite band of the moment was N'Sync. Her movie was 'Titanic,' and she was carrying a torch for Mr. Leonardo DiCaprio

I can't and never want to imagine the pain that any parent goes through losing a daughter/son; never mind in such a scary and violent manner. As a father of 4 myself, the mere idea of it is crushing. I pray that time and sleep will bring peace in times of pain.

CAN THAT BE?

I step outside, what did I hear? I heard the whispers, And the cries of the people's fear. The loneliness of wisdom, Can that be? The sad, sad sorrow that I see, That is past in the trees, Is it true, can it be real? Can I let them know how I really feel? The things that I have seen, The things that I have felt,

The feelings of sorrow That I hope will soon melt. Wherever I looked, Wherever I turned, I see shadows all through the night. I put my head down and said a little prayer, To tell the Lord the sad, sad, sorrow, And the lonely cries that I have heard. After a minute of silence, of wisdom, I looked up slowly, I saw a thing that I have never seen.

I saw a light and asked myself can that be? Was it real or was it a dream? I didn't know but hopefully It will come to me. It was bright and I was scared. I didn't know what or if I should see. I looked and then it came to me. It was a dream. When I was turning to walk away, I heard a voice.

Written by Kelly in 1998. Her first draft; final draft published in Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul III



So beautiful...

Poor Kelly. There was nothing she did to deserve that fate. None of the others did, either, of course. But there was something especially sweet about her.

I once had someone say that the only kids killed were bullies. I mean, you can't look at Kelly and say she was a bully. She looks like she fits the description of a shy sweet person.

Kelly looked nice, sweet and lovely person. I am sorry that there was no place for her under the table to hide.