THE CALL THAT HAUNTS A FATHER FOREVER… 😱💔 At exactly 2:18 p.m., 12-year-old Quinn’s terrified voice broke through to her dad, Dennis Campbell: “Dad, I’m scared…”

Then, the desperate warning: “Don’t come here, Dad…” before the line went dead.

Dennis endured hours of pure agony—heart pounding, mind racing, fearing the worst for his little girl trapped in the nightmare at Tumbler Ridge Secondary School.

He still can’t shake those three words he heard at the 10-second mark… words that haunt him every single day.

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Dennis Campbell still replays the moment in his mind: his phone ringing just after 2 p.m. on February 10, 2026, and his 12-year-old daughter Quinn’s voice on the other end, small and shaking. “Dad, I’m scared,” she said. Seconds later: “Dad, there’s shooting. It’s shooting here. Don’t come down here.” Then silence—the call cut off abruptly.

For Dennis, a resident of the small northern B.C. town and president of the local minor hockey association, those few words marked the beginning of what he describes as the longest hours of his life. He had dropped Quinn off at Tumbler Ridge Secondary School that morning, as usual, while his 15-year-old son Seth walked to class. What followed was a parent’s worst fear unfolding in real time.

The mass shooting at the school claimed eight lives: five students (three 12-year-old girls and two boys aged 12 and 13), one 39-year-old teacher, and two family members of the suspect at a separate residence. The 18-year-old female suspect, identified by RCMP as Jesse Van Rootselaar, died by suicide after the attack. Twenty-seven others were injured, some critically.

In interviews with CBC News chief correspondent Adrienne Arsenault and other outlets, Dennis recounted the frantic call. Quinn, a Grade 7 student, had been in the bathroom when she heard shots. She ran to the gym and hid in an equipment room with older Grade 10 and 11 students. Those teens, he credits, helped keep her calm as the youngest in the group. “They were mostly trying to cheer me up since I was the youngest one in the room,” Quinn later told The Globe and Mail. “They were trying to make sure I wasn’t going to freak out or anything.”

Dennis waited in agony for confirmation that his daughter was safe. When he finally learned she had escaped unharmed physically, relief mixed with profound grief. “My daughter lost four friends that day,” he said, his voice breaking in one report. “I’ve been crying all day.” Quinn played soccer with one victim, Abel, whom Dennis called “a good, kind-hearted soul.” Others included Ezekiel, a hockey player Dennis knew well, described as “an amazing child” always smiling, and Kylie, whom he had known since she was a baby.

The father’s interview captured the raw emotion of a community in shock. He spoke of the surreal wait, the pounding heart, the fear that the next update might bring the unthinkable. Yet he also praised the quick actions of teachers and older students who protected the younger ones. “Teachers went and protected the kids in that equipment room,” he noted.

Quinn herself shared her perspective in media accounts. Emerging from the bathroom amid the sounds of gunfire, her thoughts turned immediately to friends and family. “I was just thinking about all of my friends, if they were okay. Thinking about my family,” she said. Hiding with the group provided a measure of comfort, even as uncertainty gripped everyone.

The broader tragedy has left Tumbler Ridge, a remote mountain town of about 2,000, grappling with collective loss. Vigils have been held, flags lowered, and support poured in from across Canada. World leaders and officials expressed condolences, highlighting the nation’s mourning. The RCMP detailed the sequence: the suspect allegedly killed family members at home before proceeding to the school.

For the Campbell family, the focus remains on healing. Dennis has spoken publicly about the toll on his daughter—the trauma of losing close friends, the memories of that terrifying afternoon. Quinn’s survival is a point of gratitude amid sorrow, but the emotional scars are deep. Parents like Dennis emphasize the importance of community support, counseling, and time for grieving.

Medical and psychological experts note that children exposed to such violence often face long-term effects, including anxiety, nightmares, and difficulty processing the event. Schools in the area have implemented additional support, with mental health resources mobilized for students and families. Dennis’s account underscores a common thread in survivor stories: the split-second decisions, the protective instincts of peers, and the lingering “what ifs.”

The incident has renewed discussions on school safety in rural Canada, mental health access in isolated communities, and firearm policies—though many affected families, including the Campbells, have urged focus on victims rather than debate. Dennis’s words center on compassion: for his daughter, for those lost, and even for broader understanding in a time of pain.

As days pass since February 10, updates from Tumbler Ridge show a town banding together. Fundraisers support grieving families, memorials honor the victims, and stories like Quinn’s remind people of resilience amid horror. Dennis continues to speak out, not for attention, but to share the reality many parents now face.

In one poignant reflection, he described the moment relief finally came—knowing Quinn was out, safe, though forever changed. The call that haunted him became a testament to survival. Yet the three words that echo—“Dad, I’m scared”—serve as a haunting reminder of vulnerability in an instant that altered everything.

For the Campbell family and the wider community, recovery is ongoing. Prayers continue for Quinn’s emotional healing, for the families who lost children, and for a town seeking light after darkness. Dennis’s story, shared through tears, stands as both a father’s enduring love and a call to hold one another close in the face of the unimaginable.