In the wake of a lethal shooting involving five local individuals, an atmosphere of shock and sorrow hangs heavy over the local JFK bar in Anaconda. Barely a day after this horrendous incident, one of the patrons, Dan Grinolds, raises his glass in a poignant toast, pledging ‘To a good day’ before consuming half his drink in one go. The remainder of the town is startlingly quiet, with pieces of yellow police tape swirling in the breeze, tumbling down deserted streets past the Owl Bar, located just a block away.
Despite the stillness on this Saturday afternoon, the residents exhibit their condolences in their own subtle ways. As motorists slow their vehicles when passing the cul-de-sac housing the Owl and two adjoining residences, they notice the property still cordoned off by police. The mournful tableau includes vigil lights that have already flickered out and clusters of multicolored flowers left at the base of the Owl’s street sign, located at the intersection of Washington and 3rd Street. The mourning town’s residents have turned inward, maintaining a respectful silence outdoors.
Meanwhile, at the JFK, locals are more vocal, with conversations fraught with manifestations of grief and loss. People are candidly reflecting on the fallen and the perpetrator of the crime. There were always suspicions about the man behind the gun, certain regulars admit, with Dave Jarabek noting a peculiar air about him. Expressing his grief, Grinolds mentions the torrent of tears shed in the aftermath of the devastating incident.
On that ill-fated day, August 1, Michael Paul Brown, aged 45, left his abode adjacent to the Owl Bar and proceeded to end the lives of four unassuming individuals including a bartender and three patrons. The suspect made his escape in a white Ford F-150 pickup, which the authorities found later. However, Brown, a frequent visitor to the Owl, still evades capture.
In a tight-knit community such as Anaconda, comprising of roughly 9,800 inhabitants, news travels fast. If you trip over a shoelace here, half the town would know within half an hour, jokes Keith Wilkins, the proprietor of JFK. This close proximity has led to everyone, including Jill Rowles, a fellow regular at Owl, having firsthand memories of Brown as well as the victims. In fact, one of the deceased was a close accomplice of hers.
The town, though released from its official lockdown, still harbors an aura of anxiety, waiting for the inevitable next piece of news about Brown. Rowles states simply, ‘He’s somewhere,’ indicating the unease due to the suspect being at large. Meanwhile, Dan Oberweiser, Brown’s former football coach in a Deer Lodge high school during the 90s, visits the JFK, traditionally not a place he frequents. Searching for solace, he poignantly remarks that the Mike who committed such hideous deeds was not the Mike he remembered from three decades ago.
While awaiting formal updates, people have turned to social media, threads upon threads of comments speculating on the victims and circumstances, and hypothesizing potential hideouts for the perpetrator. With emotions running high, one quote stands out from an Anaconda resident trying to make sense of the horrific incident in the aftermath, ‘Homes scattered around the Owl had their curtains pulled back to display ‘Anaconda Strong’ signs.’
For Julie Fanyak, 67, a 25-year neighbor to the Owl and a pool enthusiast along with her spouse, the bar represents a community hub turned into a crime scene. Recalling the incident, she mimics the echo of the bullets fired, the noise resembling a knock on her living room window. Initially, she mistook the sounds for firecrackers, a common sight around the bar.
The rapid gunfire soon ebbed into a disquieting silence, disrupted only by a speeding ambulance, indicating something amiss. With the sudden surge of fire marshals outdoors, she realized the gravity of the situation. Ahead of that moment, she hadn’t considered owning firearms to be a threat, but now, the reality that the man behind the gun is just a few doors away, fills her with dread. Fanyak confesses, ‘Our whole sense of safety is gone. My bedroom door doesn’t lock. I’m going to buy a deadbolt today.’
Another fellow Anaconda resident caught in the crossfire of the alarming event spoke to us under anonymity. The individual distinctly recalls the preceding commotion, human voices escalating to screams, culminating in the chilling sound of gunfire. The resident recalls a brief earlier encounter with Brown, who had helped her and her husband move a sofa into their living room.
Despite the shocking event occurring in her community, she maintains, ‘I’ve never felt unsafe here, and still I don’t feel unsafe here.’ She expresses the hope that this shooting incident is an anomaly, suggesting the strong community ties built over the years. The town has earned its moniker ‘Anaconda Strong’ due to its unity, resilience and the love everyone has for one another.
Furthermore, Michael Fischer, an employee at the Town Pump, reflects on his relief at not having been directly affected by the tragedy. At the time of the horrifying incident on Friday morning, the gas station staff knew about the suspected shooter but were unclear about the details. Fischer, laying low and focusing on work throughout the ordeal, hadn’t gotten an update on the situation until the next morning.
For the locals, like Jill Rowles, the JFK Bar served as a sanctuary amidst the turmoil. Despite its proximity to the shooting scene, it came to symbolize a lighthouse in a storm, offering a safe space as other businesses shut their doors prematurely. To meet this need of the hour, the bar remained open, its floors filled to the brim with locals uniting in their collective state of disbelief.
The mood was similar on Saturday morning as people continued to struggle with the harsh reality, hoping to be shaken awake from the nightmare. The gravity of the situation seemed to contradict Anaconda’s reputation as a safe community. Acknowledging this paradox, Jarabek stated bitterly, ‘It happens everywhere. It doesn’t happen here. I don’t know why I didn’t think it would happen here.’
The locals striving to reconcile their perceptions of safety, grief and the contradictory notion of ‘Anaconda Strong’. To them, as voiced by Jill Rowles, the meaning of this phrase seems elusive in the face of such a tragedy. The blank faces, laden with pain, echoed the gravity of those three words, but nonverbally questioned, ‘What does that mean?’
The post Shockwave of Grief Engulfs Anaconda Post Lethal Shooting appeared first on Real News Now.
About Author
