The quiet mountain town of Tumbler Ridge, British Columbia, nestled in the northern foothills of the Canadian Rockies, has rarely made headlines for anything beyond its coal mining heritage and stunning natural beauty. On February 10, 2026, that changed forever. In a matter of minutes, an 18-year-old former student named Jesse Van Rootselaar unleashed unimaginable violence—first at a family home on Fellers Avenue, where she fatally shot her mother Jennifer Jacobs and 11-year-old half-brother Emmett Jacobs, then at nearby Tumbler Ridge Secondary School, where she killed six more people, including five children aged 12 and 13, and an education assistant, before taking her own life. Eight lives ended in total; dozens more were wounded, some critically. The shooter, who had dropped out of the school years earlier and had a history of mental health concerns that prompted multiple RCMP welfare checks, carried a long gun and a modified rifle, turning a typical school day into one of Canada’s deadliest mass shootings in recent history—the worst school shooting since the 1989 École Polytechnique massacre.

Amid the horror, two young survivors were airlifted out in critical condition: 12-year-old Maya Gebala, shot in the head and neck, and 19-year-old Paige Hoekstra, who suffered a single gunshot wound to the chest. While Maya remains in critical condition at BC Children’s Hospital, fighting for every inch of recovery with signs of movement on her left side offering fragile hope, Paige’s journey has taken a brighter turn. After days of suspended fear and hope in a Vancouver hospital, the 19-year-old has been cleared by doctors to return home. Her release marks a powerful, emotional homecoming—not erasing the community’s collective trauma, but injecting a vital flicker of light into a town still shrouded in grief

Paige Hoekstra’s ordeal began in chaos. On that fateful Tuesday afternoon, as alarms blared and students fled classrooms, she was among those caught in the line of fire at Tumbler Ridge Secondary School. The bullet struck her chest, piercing through with devastating force. Emergency responders acted swiftly—first aid, stabilization, then a life-flight helicopter rushing her over rugged terrain to Vancouver General Hospital, where trauma surgeons awaited. Details of the surgery remain private, but family updates via a verified GoFundMe page reveal the gravity: one gunshot wound requiring immediate intervention to repair and assess damage to vital structures—likely involving the lungs, heart-adjacent vessels, or major arteries. “Paige had suffered one gunshot wound to the chest and has since undergone surgery to repair/assess damage, but she is officially out of danger and in recovery,” her older sister Leann Fletcher posted early on, including a direct message from Paige herself: “I want to tell everyone that I am OK and I am recovering.”

The road from critical to stable was anything but linear. In the ICU, Paige endured the physical toll of major thoracic trauma—pain management, breathing support, monitoring for complications like infection, pneumothorax, or cardiac issues. Doctors ran exhaustive post-surgery tests and scans over several days, assessing lung function, blood flow, and overall stability. By February 16, the family announced a breakthrough: “The doctors have run a series of post-surgery tests/scans over the last couple days, and they are now confident that it is safe for us to bring Paige home.” Her resilience drew praise from medical staff, who described her progress as remarkable given the injury’s severity. For a 19-year-old who had faced death head-on, the shift from hospital bed to homeward travel represents not just medical triumph but profound human endurance.

The homecoming itself carries deep symbolism for Tumbler Ridge, a close-knit community of roughly 2,000 where everyone knows everyone. Portable classrooms are being installed to allow students to return to learning, the school yellow tape removed, control handed back to the Peace River South school district. Yet the scars linger—empty desks, counseling sessions, vigils where over a thousand gathered outside Town Hall to honor the fallen. Paige’s return doesn’t heal those wounds, but it offers a tangible sign that life persists. Family members have expressed overwhelming gratitude to the medical teams in Vancouver—”we can’t begin to express” their thanks—and extended solidarity to other affected families, including Maya’s, who continue their own vigil. They have invited those navigating loss to reach out, fostering a network of mutual support in a town that needs it more than ever.

Paige’s story resonates beyond statistics. At 19, she stands on the cusp of adulthood—perhaps a recent graduate or young adult still tied to her hometown school community, volunteering, supporting younger siblings or cousins, or simply part of the fabric that binds small towns together. Her survival highlights the randomness of tragedy: why her chest wound proved survivable while others’ did not remains a question without easy answers, tied to bullet trajectory, immediate care, and sheer will. Her family’s updates have been models of grace—measured, hopeful, focused on recovery rather than rage. In one Facebook post, Leann shared Paige sitting up in her hospital bed, a small but powerful image of defiance against despair.

The broader context amplifies the emotional stakes. Tumbler Ridge, once a boomtown fueled by coal, has faced economic shifts and isolation challenges. Gun violence of this scale is extraordinarily rare in Canada, where strict firearm laws and community-oriented policing usually prevent such events. The shooter’s identity—an 18-year-old transgender woman with a documented history of mental health struggles—has sparked national conversations about youth mental health access, school safety, and the intersection of personal crises with public violence. RCMP investigations continue, processing scenes at the home and school, but for survivors like Paige, the focus remains on healing.

As Paige boards a flight or ambulance back to Tumbler Ridge—likely accompanied by family and medical support—the moment carries quiet power. Loved ones will greet her not just as a daughter, sister, friend, but as living proof that even after sirens fade and news cycles move on, recovery endures. Community members may line streets or gather quietly, offering hugs, meals, or simply presence. For a town marked by unimaginable loss, her return brings no closure—grief for the eight lost lives, including children with shy smiles and braces forever frozen in RCMP-released photos, will linger—but it does bring hope. Healing is possible. Endurance is real. And sometimes, after the darkest hours, a survivor makes it home.

In the days ahead, Paige Hoekstra will face rehabilitation—physical therapy for chest mobility, emotional support for trauma, reintegration into a changed community. Her GoFundMe continues to accept donations for recovery needs, a practical lifeline amid the intangible work of rebuilding. Yet her story already inspires: a reminder that amid horror, individual resilience can spark collective light. Tumbler Ridge may never be the same, but with Paige walking its streets again, it carries forward a fragile, fierce promise—that even in the aftermath of chaos, life finds a way to return home.