‘Life is forever changed’

When Carrie Mangoubi sends her young children off to school, she often worries about their safety. At least once a week, her deeply ingrained fear and uncertainty of shootings feels nearly inescapable, she said.

While these thoughts may not be “healthy,” Mangoubi said her “life is forever changed” after the 2022 Highland Park Independence Day parade mass shooting, which left seven people dead, four dozen injured and an entire community traumatized.

When the parade began, Mangoubi, her husband and their three kids took their seats farther down the route. Her first indication that something was awry happened when she saw band members frantically running. She watched as ambulances and fire trucks sped down the street with their lights and sirens blaring — the same emergency vehicles that had just passed her family minutes before with first responders waving and smiling.

Someone in the crowd then shouted “there’s a shooter,” Mangoubi said. She and her husband picked up their two youngest daughters and shielded their eldest daughter, who was 5 years old at the time, as she ran beside them. They sprinted to safety in their car.

“We didn’t see any blood, we didn’t hear any bullets, and so that’s why I say we are luckier than most that were there,” Mangoubi said. “But as a mother, having the responsibility to carry your infant away from an active shooter scene, that will never ever leave me.”

Last month, the gunman, Robert Crimo III, unexpectedly pleaded guilty to 21 counts of first-degree murder and 48 counts of attempted murder, minutes before opening statements were set to begin in his murder trial. His decision eliminated the need for a weekslong, high-profile court battle that would almost certainly have ended in a guilty verdict. His sentencing is scheduled to begin Wednesday morning in Lake County.

The 24-year-old, who fired an AR-15-style assault rifle from a rooftop into the parade’s crowd, is expected to spend the rest of his life behind bars. Under state law, anyone found guilty of committing two or more murders receives an automatic life sentence in prison with no possibility of parole.

The sentencing will likely be an emotional day in court, despite its expected outcome. Many parade survivors and loved ones of those who were killed are expected to provide victim impact statements, something experts say play a powerful role in criminal proceedings even in cases where sentencing guidelines are set by state statute.

In sharing their acute personal grief and trauma, they also will be speaking for an entire community that was irrevocably changed that morning. They will explain the shooting’s direct effect on their lives, while also representing people such as Mangoubi who were not physically injured that day but remain haunted by it.

“The ability to really hear the details is, in my opinion, going to give more power to the statements in this situation and be an important part of what people think is justice,” said Mary Rose, a sociology professor at the University of Texas at Austin who researches the legal system and perceptions of justice.

“I do think the public understanding of what happened on that day — and the aftermath of that day — can be affected by having these narratives said and reported on and passed around,” she added. “That’s their power now.”

Following Crimo’s guilty plea, attorneys representing nearly 50 victims of the mass shooting released a joint statement on their behalf. They pledged to attend the sentencing and “tell their personal stories to the court. They also vowed to be “steadfastly committed to pursuing justice in their ongoing civil litigation against this individual and others including Smith & Wesson and the companies that sold the assault weapon that was used in the shooting.”

A Lake County judge ruled earlier this month that the lawsuit against the gun manufacturer and two other gun dealers linked to the 2022 mass shooting can move forward.

Crimo’s attorney declined a Tribune request for comment on the upcoming sentencing. Highland Park Mayor Nancy Rotering also declined to comment, saying through a spokesperson that “our primary concern is ensuring the integrity of these proceedings.”

Rotering has previously said Crimo’s guilty plea was an “unexpected end,” but an “important step towards justice.”

‘Didn’t feel as safe as it used to’

One of Larry Bloom’s frequent pastimes is strolling along a path in Highland Park. The first time he took a walk after the shooting, however, he remembers thinking that someone could pop out of the brush and “start shooting down the trail.” He also doesn’t like to sit with his back to the door in public places, and always tries to keep an eye out for an exit.

“I remember being a little heartbroken about that,” he said. “That nice little walk on the trail didn’t feel as safe as it used to be.”

On the day of the shooting, Bloom rode his bike to the parade, standing by the bandstand where announcers commentated on the floats drifting past. He heard a series of “pops,” which he initially thought were part of the parade.

At first, “it was like he hadn’t fully committed. It was very hesitant. It was like pap … pap, pap, pap. It was just a few,” Bloom recalled. He quickly realized someone was shooting. “Then it opened up. All of a sudden, it was just like bam, bam, bam, bam, bam.”

The crowd of people around him began panicking. He remembers looking down and seeing a red liquid on the pavers of downtown’s Port Clinton Square and thinking “who had this giant red drink? Who was walking around with that?” He now suspects that the red liquid was the blood of an injured victim who ran past him.

Bloom then ran with his bicycle and either tripped or was pushed. He said he fell into a large planter, with his bike landing on top of him, as the assault rifle fired. At that moment, he had “absolutely no agency over the situation,” Bloom said. Within about 10 seconds, he got up from under his bike and fled the scene.

“Every time I take a running step, I just hear this ‘pow.’ I take another step, ‘pow,'” Bloom said. “Every time I take another step and I hear that sound, I think ‘that didn’t hit me. I heard it. It didn’t hit me.'”

When police reopened the shooting scene about a week later, Bloom rode his bike back to the spot where he had viewed the parade in an effort to “reclaim that space.” He said it helped him gain “a little more agency of my space and myself.”

However, some of the emotional scars from the shooting remain, he said. Bloom felt a great deal of apprehension as Crimo’s trial approached. When Crimo pleaded guilty, he said he felt tremendous relief. He’s said he’s not terribly concerned about the upcoming sentencing, and won’t be giving a victim impact statement.

“(Crimo will) never get out. That’s all right by me,” he said. “If I never see that guy’s face … I’ll be perfectly happy.”

Bloom also said he wants a nationwide ban on assault-style rifles. If there were such a ban in place, he believes Crimo or many other mass shooters would not be able to access that kind of high-powered weaponry.

“Nobody should be running for their lives down a public street counting the bullets that didn’t hit them,” he said. “I think about that all the time. But that’s our reality.”

What’s a victim impact statement?

Lake County prosecutors have said it’s possible that more than a dozen parade survivors may give impact statements in open court. Others may submit letters to the judge detailing the emotional, physical and financial toll of the July 4 shooting.

Paul Cassell, a former federal judge and law professor at the University of Utah, said making a victim impact statement in court can provide “some measure of healing” for victims and their families, helping them reclaim a sense of agency after a heinous crime. They can also help foster a sense of solidarity among victims or promote communal healing, he added.

“It’s an opportunity for a victim or a victim’s family member to take some control back from the criminal,” he said. “One of the things that criminals do that is so traumatizing is that they seize control of events from their victims. And a victim impact statement is, to some small degree, an opportunity to … reverse those roles so the victim is in control and the criminal is not.”

Sometimes survivors might speak in their statements to broader societal issues, such as gun control or mental health counseling, Cassell said. They have the opportunity to directly address the perpetrator, sometimes with a religious undertone, he said. Some victims might have a strong desire to forgive — or not forgive — the perpetrator, he added.

“We don’t want to be naive that that’s suddenly going to change everything in the world, but it may be a first step toward the criminal understanding the harm he’s created and one would hope would be a step along the path toward some redemption for the criminal,” Cassell said. “Obviously that may be dubious in some cases.”

Cassell also cautioned that a common myth surrounding these statements is that they produce a sense of closure after delivery.

“When you’re talking about a crime as horrific as this one, the after-effects are going to continue on forever,” he said.

‘A sense of relief’

Mangoubi, a Northbrook resident, isn’t planning to provide a statement, both for her emotional well-being and to give space to “other people impacted far greater than me.” However, she said she’s praying that some semblance of justice is served “for every single person who was impacted at that parade.”

Coping with the effects of the shooting hasn’t been easy, Mangoubi said. The first time she attended a parade after the shooting, she said she started sweating and her heart beat fast. She said her body also reacts on a “cellular level” every time she reads a headline about the shooter. She attended therapy afterward to help process the experience, she said.

Mangoubi feels fortunate that two of her daughters were so young when the shooting happened that they don’t remember much of anything. Her oldest daughter, Olivia, who is now 8, recalls it as “the time when the bad guy came.”

In the shooting’s aftermath, Mangoubi said Olivia struggled with the idea that her parents physically picked up her younger sisters amid the turmoil while she ran beside them. It was “scary” for her to think that her parents didn’t care about her as much, “when that couldn’t have been further from the truth,” Mangoubi said.

“That was really hard to hear — ‘mom, how come you picked up my sisters and not me?’” Mangoubi said. “That was really heartbreaking.”

Sometimes in a crowded place, maybe once or twice a year, one of her children might say something to the effect of “how do you know the bad guy’s not gonna be here.” Mangoubi said she tells them that grownups are trying to keep them safe and that the “bad guy is in jail and hopefully he’s never coming out.”

“I don’t know how I feel will change after the sentencing except for a sense of relief that he is behind bars and justice is being served and he can’t do anything else again,” she said. “Hopefully it sends a message to other individuals who will be thinking that they might want to do something similar.”