She was only 12.

Just a little girl with big dreams — sketching anime characters, planning her future at art school in Toronto, waving goodbye to her dad like every other school morning.

But that ordinary Tuesday in tiny Tumbler Ridge, B.C., became her last.

Her father, still replays the moment: watching her and her brother  walk through the school doors together. He soaked it in, not knowing it would be the final time he’d see her alive.

Hours later, chaos erupted. the brother hid in a utility closet, texting “I love you” to his family, desperately searching for his sister. She never made it out.

In the quiet mountain town of Tumbler Ridge, where neighbors know each other by name and families share the same tight-knit routines, the morning of February 10, 2026, began like any other for 12-year-old Kylie Smith. She woke up, got ready for school, and headed out the door with her 15-year-old brother Ethan, waving to her father as they walked into Tumbler Ridge Secondary School together.

That simple goodbye — a father pausing to watch his children disappear through the doors — has become the most painful memory for Lance Younge. “I soaked in that moment watching them walk in the door together, for whatever reason,” Younge told CTV News in an emotional interview the following day. “I didn’t know it would be the last time they’d go to school together.”

Kylie never came home. She was one of six people fatally shot at the school, part of a rampage that claimed eight lives in total, including the suspect’s mother and stepbrother at a nearby residence. The 18-year-old suspect, Jesse Van Rootselaar, died from an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound at the school scene.

Kylie’s family has since shared poignant details of her final hours, painting a picture of an ordinary school day interrupted by unimaginable violence. According to her father and other relatives, the morning was routine: breakfast, packing school bags, the short walk or drive to the small secondary school that serves fewer than 175 students. Kylie, in seventh grade and just months shy of turning 13, was described by her mother, Desirae Pisarski, as having “the biggest heart” and being “a gentle, loving, caring girl who lit up the way everywhere she went.”

Pisarski posted photos on social media showing Kylie in happier times: on a ski lift, in a sparkling figure-skating outfit, proudly holding an “Artful Artist” certificate from elementary school, and dressed in a turquoise tutu with a princess crown. “You are at peace now, princess,” she wrote.

Younge recounted how the day unraveled. Around 3 p.m., Ethan contacted the family from inside the school, where he had hidden in a utility closet during the shooting. He texted and called to say “I love you” and expressed fear, but had no idea where his sister was. The family waited in agony at the local recreation center, where evacuated students reunited with parents. Younge spent hours searching the crowd, asking for information, but authorities provided little.

It wasn’t until nine hours later — around midnight — that the family learned the devastating truth. A student who had attempted CPR on Kylie for 45 minutes approached them to deliver the news, as police had not yet informed them directly. “She was the one who came and told us nine hours later that our daughter had passed,” Younge said, his voice breaking.

Kylie was remembered as a “beautiful soul” who loved art, anime, and figure skating. She dreamed of attending art school in Toronto, a big-city ambition for a girl from a remote coal-mining community near the Alberta border. Her aunt on Vancouver Island called her a “kind, sweet soul” who cherished family time and showed boundless love.

The family’s plea has been consistent: Focus on the victims and their stories, not the perpetrator. “Let’s stop giving this psychopath the recognition,” Younge urged in interviews. “These kids were lost before they got to become teenagers. Let’s put these pictures up, remember them and not this murderer.”

This sentiment echoes across Tumbler Ridge, where memorials of flowers, candles, stuffed animals, and victim photos continue to grow outside the school and other sites. Vigils have drawn hundreds, including children who now carry the trauma of the day. British Columbia Premier David Eby visited, promising support and reviews of mental health services and firearm access, while Prime Minister Mark Carney expressed national solidarity.

The broader tragedy includes other young victims: 12-year-olds Zoey Benoit, Ticaria Lampert, and Abel Mwansa; 13-year-old Ezekiel Schofield; and 39-year-old teacher Shannda Aviugana-Durand at the school. At the family home, Jennifer Jacobs (also known as Jennifer Strang), 39, and 11-year-old Emmett Jacobs died. More than 25 were injured, some critically, with at least one child airlifted to Vancouver.

Police have released victim biographies in consultation with families, emphasizing their lives over the suspect’s actions. Van Rootselaar had prior mental health contacts with law enforcement, including wellness checks and firearm seizures under the Mental Health Act. The firearms used — a long gun and modified handgun — are under scrutiny, though Canada maintains strict gun laws.

For Kylie’s family, the focus remains on her light. Stepfamily members Jenny Geary and others have spoken of the “amazing kids” lost and the heroes, like the student who performed CPR. Fundraisers, including GoFundMe campaigns, support travel, memorials, and long-term needs for grieving relatives.

In interviews, Younge repeatedly urged parents everywhere: “Hold your kids tight. Tell them you love them every day. You never know, you never know.”

The community, described by its mayor as “one big family,” is leaning on each other amid the grief. Counselors have been deployed, and support will be needed “forever,” locals say. As Tumbler Ridge begins burying its dead, the ordinary morning Kylie’s father replayed — siblings walking hand-in-hand into school — stands as a stark reminder of how quickly normalcy can vanish.

Her story, shared through tearful family words, is one of innocence stolen too soon. In a nation reflecting on rare but devastating violence, the call is clear: Remember the children like Kylie — their dreams, their smiles, their final, unsuspecting goodbyes.