Robert R. Card II was “relaxed and methodical” as he opened fire on patrons of Just-In-Time Recreation bowling alley last Wednesday night. That’s what eye-witness Danielle Grondin remembers in the seconds before she and dozens of others began running for the exits to escape the gunfire.
“I did not have a sense he had any set targets,” Grondin said Sunday evening. “My sense was he saw someone moving and he shot.”
The shots did not come rapidfire, but one at a time separated by several seconds, Grondin said, likely because Card’s gun kept jamming.
In the largest mass shooting in Maine in modern history, 18 people were killed Wednesday night at Just-In-Time Recreation and Schemengees Bar and Grille. Thirteen more were injured. Card, the subject of an intensive manhunt, was found Friday night, dead of an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound.
Time seemed to at once stand still and accelerate from the moment the first shot interrupted the regular Wednesday night league games at the popular bowling alley, Grondin said. Up until that point, it was just another night full of the kind of laughter and banter that surrounds friendly competition in the bowing world.
“We were in lane 10 and there were four full lanes to the other side of us,” said Grondin, a Winthrop resident originally from Sabattus. “There were at least three leagues playing there that night.”
Around 6:45 that night Grondin said she asked her boyfriend Shawn Chabot if he wanted a second beer and some food. Chabot declined food at the time, but was ready for a second round.
At the bar, Grondin joked briefly with bartender Tom Conrad and thanked him before heading back to her lane with several glasses of beer.
“I was probably the last person to talk to Tom,” Grondin said softly.
Conrad, along with six others in the bowling alley, were killed in the mass shooting.
“I had just sat down and put my glasses on the table and I heard what I felt like was two balloons popping,” Grondin said. “I am so embarrassed to say my first thought was, ‘who brought a paintball gun in here?’”
Grondin stood up to see what was going on and came face to face with Card standing about 20-feet away, making herself the perfect target, she said.
“I saw the light — I can’t say if it was green or blue, but I saw it pointing in our direction,” she said, referring to the light from the sight on Card’s gun. “I froze — not in fear, but in confusion.”
Card was forced to stop firing briefly as his gun appeared to jam, Grondin said.
That’s when Chabot grabbed her and pulled her out of the line of fire and down a hallway.
“He lost me momentarily,” she said. “Then he came back and started pulling me in a different direction than everyone else was going.”
About 40 friends and fellow league members were all rushing in the same direction and Grondin said she wanted to stay with them.
But Chabot, with his United States Navy and anti-terrorism tactical training, knew that in these situations shooters want the most casualties possible and that a group of 40 made for a large target.
“He used his training,” Grondin said simply. “He told me it was his job to keep me safe.”
Once outside, the couple fled to a nearby business and tried to convince the night janitor to let them in. But the person on the other side of the door did not understand what they wanted, so they fled to the Subway Sandwich shop across the street.
Once law enforcement was on the scene — something Grondin said happened “very quickly,” she and Chabot joined the others who had escaped on the lawn in front of the Just-In-Time.
There she was able to borrow a phone — like most of the people who rushed out, her own phone was still inside — to contact family to let them know she was safe.
“We heard that [Card] had gone to the Walmart Distribution Center next,” Grondin said. “I have two kids who work there.”
Borrowing a second phone, Grondin called her children. After seven minutes which she said felt like a year, she heard back they were under lockdown in the facility and safe.
“It’s weird, but at no point at time was I afraid for my own life,” she said. “But with my kids in danger, that’s when I lost it.”
What followed was a blur, being taken away from the crime scene by police, giving her statement to law enforcement personnel and finally arriving at the unification center at a nearby school.
Now she is left with images that, no matter how hard she tries, she can’t unsee.
“Every time I shut my eyes, I see him,” she said, glancing at her kitchen clock which read 5:37 p.m. “Every night around this time I start to shake.”
Grondin knows she is among the lucky ones. Those who made it out alive. Even as she processes her own trauma, she is grieving for the lives lost.
“When we first got to the bowling alley, I saw a woman who I’d gone to high school with and we said ‘hello,’” Grondin said. “When the shooting started she said she ended up hiding under the ball machine waiting to die.”
That woman’s husband, Jason Walker, was killed in the shooting.
Grondin and Chabot had not been to Just-In-Time for a while because Chabot had been on deployment. They were looking forward to reconnecting with their friends that night.
When she had gone to get her bowling shoes, Grondin said she ran into Tricia Asselin, a friend and woman who not only bowled but played golf with many of the Apple Valley Golf Course Bowling League members.
“She and Shawn had a huge hug,” Grondin said. “I am so glad they had that.”
Asselin was shot and killed less than an hour later as she ran for a phone to call 911.
Now Grondin — like so many others affected by the mass shooting — is left trying to make sense where there is no sense.
“It’s hard to understand how it was we were able to run out and someone standing close to me was shot and killed,” she said.
Many are finding comfort in gathering with a new-found bond none of them ever wanted.
Random sights and sounds are triggering, she said. Driving to the crime scene on Saturday to retrieve her vehicle took everything she had.
She is grateful for the support shown by community members and hopes that lasts, especially for those directly affected by the shooting.
“I don’t know if there will ever be normal again,” Grondin said. “For now, it’s one day at a time.”