In the quiet aftermath of one of the most traumatic events in Brown University’s history, freshman Khimari Manns returned to his dorm room on Sunday morning only to confront an unbearable emptiness. His roommate—a bright, smiling neuroscience major from Virginia who had just begun his college journey—was gone, one of two students killed in a senseless shooting that rocked the Ivy League campus the previous afternoon. “It doesn’t feel real,” Manns told reporters, his voice heavy with shock. “I haven’t processed it yet. It felt like there was a ghost in the room.”

The shooting unfolded on Saturday, December 13, 2025, during the hectic final exam period, shattering the relative calm of the Providence, Rhode Island, campus. Around 4:05 p.m., a masked gunman dressed in black burst into a first-floor lecture hall in the Barus and Holley building—the hub for the School of Engineering and Physics Department. The room was hosting a review session for an introductory economics class, with about 60 students crammed in, cramming notes and asking questions ahead of their upcoming final. Without warning, the attacker opened fire with a rifle, spraying bullets indiscriminately before fleeing the scene.

Chaos erupted instantly. Students dove under desks, barricaded doors, or fled through side exits if they could. Screams filled the air as the pops of gunfire echoed through the seven-story building. By the time the assailant escaped, two students lay dead, and nine others were wounded—seven critically, with injuries ranging from gunshot wounds to the chest and limbs to fragments causing secondary harm. All 11 victims were confirmed to be students, many of them freshmen or sophomores deep into the grind of end-of-semester preparations.

Khimari Manns, an Ohio native and member of Brown’s wrestling team, was in the university’s wrestling room when the first emergency alert blared across phones campus-wide at 4:22 p.m.: “Active shooter at Barus and Holley. Shelter in place.” Like thousands of others, he hunkered down, texting friends and teammates to check if they were safe. He reached out to his roommate too—but no response came. It wasn’t until later, when a friend of his roommate contacted him, that the devastating truth sank in. “I had a feeling something wasn’t right,” Manns recalled. Authorities have not yet released the names of the victims, pending family notifications, but Manns described his roommate as a “ball of joy”—intelligent, kind, and always quick with a smile that lit up their shared space.

The attack triggered an immediate lockdown, not just for the campus but extending to surrounding neighborhoods in College Hill. Hundreds of law enforcement officers—local Providence police, state troopers, FBI, and ATF agents—swarmed the area, establishing perimeters, searching buildings, and canvassing streets in a massive manhunt that stretched into the night. Students barricaded themselves in libraries, gyms, cafeterias, and dorms, silencing phones and huddling in darkness. False alarms compounded the terror: one alert mistakenly reported a second shooting nearby on Governor Street, later retracted, and another briefly claimed a suspect in custody before being corrected.

For hours, the campus held its breath. Doctoral student Chiang-Heng Chien, working in a nearby lab, described hiding under desks with lights off as SWAT teams swept buildings. Others, like senior Lydell Dyer sheltering in the gym, recounted the surreal fear of waiting for escorts to safety. Around 2,000 students were eventually relocated overnight, some finding refuge in locals’ homes—a gesture that deeply moved university leaders.

Early Sunday morning, the breakthrough came: a 24-year-old man, identified in reports as Benjamin Erickson, an Army veteran from Wisconsin with possible recent ties to Washington, D.C., was detained at a hotel in Coventry, about 20 miles south of campus. He was found with two firearms, including one matching witness descriptions from the scene. Not a Brown student and with no immediate clear connection to the university, he has not yet been charged, but authorities lifted the shelter-in-place order shortly after his detention. Investigators are probing potential motives, executing search warrants, and examining whether he acted alone or traveled to Rhode Island specifically for the attack.

Brown University President Christina Paxson addressed the community in a somber message, calling it “a deeply tragic day” and “the day one hopes never happens.” In response, the university canceled all remaining classes, exams, papers, and projects for the fall semester, allowing students to head home early if they wished. Counseling resources flooded the campus, with vigils planned and memorials sprouting—flowers, candles, and notes outside the cordoned-off Barus and Holley building.

The broader Brown community reeled from the violence invading a place synonymous with intellectual pursuit and progressive ideals. Founded in 1764, the prestigious Ivy League school enrolls about 11,000 students, known for its open curriculum and vibrant, diverse atmosphere. Yet on this wintry Saturday, that sanctuary turned into a nightmare, echoing the all-too-frequent campus shootings that plague American higher education.

Manns, speaking through his grief, captured the ripple effect: “Brown is grieving. I am grieving. The loss of him will be felt throughout this community. His soul truly did reverberate throughout the community.” He said he’d miss his roommate’s infectious smile the most—the kind that made late-night study sessions bearable and dorm life feel like home.

Survivors of past tragedies found themselves reliving trauma. At least two students on campus that day—Mia Tretta and Zoe Weissman—had endured previous school shootings, at Saugus High in 2019 and Marjory Stoneman Douglas in 2018, respectively. The irony stung: drills that once seemed precautionary now proved lifesaving, yet underscored a grim national reality.

Providence Mayor Brett Smiley called the frequency of such events “damn frequent,” praising quick police response while lamenting the need for it. Leaders across the political spectrum condemned the attack, with renewed calls for action on gun violence. This incident marked yet another mass shooting in 2025, adding to hundreds tracked annually, on a campus during what should have been a routine review session.

As investigations continue—shell casings recovered, surveillance footage analyzed, and the detained individual’s background scrutinized—the Brown community begins the long road to healing. Makeshift memorials grow, blood drives overflow, and students support one another in group chats and gatherings. For Khimari Manns and countless others, the empty side of a dorm room serves as a stark reminder: lives full of promise cut short in seconds.

In the face of unimaginable loss, the university clings to its core values—resilience, community, care. But for those like Manns, processing will take time. “It doesn’t feel real,” he repeated, a sentiment echoing across a campus forever changed.