THE HORRIFYING CALL: “Dad, something terrible is happening at school…” — Those were the words of 12-year-old Quinn over the phone to her father, Dennis Campbell, at 2:18 p.m., as the nightmare struck Tumbler Ridge Secondary School. 
The trembling voice of the little girl, the plea, “Don’t come here, Dad,” then the call abruptly cut off… Dennis recounted the long, agonizing hours of waiting for news, his heart pounding, not knowing if his daughter had made it through. He heard three words at the 5-second mark that still haunt him… but the final detail he revealed about what his daughter witnessed will send chills down your spine and leave you unable to stop thinking 

A Father’s Nightmare: The Agonizing Phone Call from Quinn Campbell During the Tumbler Ridge Tragedy

In the remote northeastern British Columbia town of Tumbler Ridge, a community of just over 2,000 residents nestled amid the Rocky Mountains’ foothills, February 10, 2026, began like any other winter day. Parents dropped their children off at school, unaware that by early afternoon, their world would shatter in one of Canada’s deadliest mass shootings. At the heart of this heartbreak is the story of 12-year-old Quinn Campbell and her father, Dennis Campbell, whose brief, terrifying phone conversation has become a poignant symbol of the chaos and fear that unfolded at Tumbler Ridge Secondary School.

A viral social media post dramatized the call: “Dad, something terrible is happening at school…” followed by Quinn’s plea, “Don’t come here, Dad,” and an abrupt cutoff. It hinted at haunting “three words” at the five-second mark and a chilling final detail about what Quinn witnessed. While searches across platforms like X and news sites show no audio leak of the call itself, Dennis Campbell’s emotional interview with CBC News provides the verified account. This article, drawing from credible reports, survivor testimonies, and official statements, explores the facts behind that harrowing moment, the broader tragedy, and the community’s path to healing. Far from sensationalism, it’s a story of resilience amid unimaginable loss.

Tumbler Ridge: A Tight-Knit Community Shattered

Tumbler Ridge, founded in 1981 as a coal mining town, is a place where everyone knows everyone. Its economy fluctuates with mining fortunes, but its spirit is rooted in the rugged landscape—snow-capped peaks, dense forests, and a sense of isolation that fosters strong bonds.

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Getting Here — Visit Tumbler Ridge

The town’s main attractions include dinosaur fossils and outdoor adventures, drawing tourists to its UNESCO Global Geopark. With a population that has dwindled from a peak of 6,000 to around 2,400, it’s a quiet haven where school events and minor hockey games are community lifelines.

Tumbler Ridge Secondary School, serving grades 7-12, is more than an educational institution; it’s a hub for youth activities. The brick building, adorned with a mural of the northern lights, stands as a symbol of hope in this remote area.

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Ten Dead, Dozens Injured in British Columbia School Shooting, Canada Police Say – Bloomberg

On that fateful Tuesday, around 1:20 p.m., the RCMP received reports of an active shooter. The scene quickly turned chaotic, with police tape cordoning off the area and emergency responders rushing in.

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The shooter, 18-year-old Jesse Van Rootselaar, began the rampage at home, killing their mother, Jennifer Strang, 39, and half-brother, Emmett Jacobs, 11. Van Rootselaar then proceeded to the school, targeting the library where students were gathered. By the end, eight people were dead—five students, one educator at the school, and the two at home—plus the shooter from a self-inflicted wound. Over 25 others were injured, some critically.

The Timeline of Terror: From Home to Horror

The day’s events unfolded rapidly. At approximately 1:20 p.m., Van Rootselaar, who identified as female and had a history of mental health issues including hospitalizations and firearm seizures (later returned), entered the school armed. The library became the epicenter of violence, with shots ringing out as students scrambled for safety.

Survivors described hiding behind bookshelves or fleeing to other rooms. One group barricaded in a classroom; others, like Quinn, sought refuge in the gymnasium’s equipment room. SWAT teams cleared the building room by room, evacuating students over several hours. By evening, the full extent of the tragedy emerged: nine dead, including Van Rootselaar.

Quinn Campbell’s Ordeal: The Call That Echoed a Father’s Fears

Quinn Campbell, a Grade 7 student known for her involvement in soccer and hockey, was in the school bathroom when the first shots echoed through the halls. Panicked, she ran to the gymnasium, joining a Grade 10/11 class. They huddled in the equipment room, where a teacher periodically checked the locked doors and reassured the group.

At 2:18 p.m., amid the confusion, Quinn called her father. Dennis, president of the Tumbler Ridge Minor Hockey Association and a familiar face in the community, recounted the moment in a raw CBC interview.

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‘Dad, there’s shooting’: B.C. father describes agonizing phone call

“She phoned me at 2:18 from school telling me that there were shots fired,” he said, his voice breaking. A teacher nearby suggested it might be a hammer, but the call dropped.

Thirty seconds later, Quinn called back: “Dad, it’s shooting. It’s shooting. Don’t come down here.” These words—perhaps the “three words” alluded to in viral posts, like “it’s shooting” repeated—haunt Dennis. He was already en route with his wife and oldest son, circling the school before parking at the nearby rec center to avoid interfering with responders.

For the next three-plus hours, from 2:30 to nearly 6:00 p.m., Dennis waited in agony, texting Quinn and hearing the school’s alarm blare. “I was crying outside the school,” he admitted. Quinn, the youngest in her hiding spot, was comforted by older students who tried to keep her calm. “They were mostly trying to cheer me up since I was the youngest one in the room,” she later told reporters. Her thoughts raced to her friends and family.

SWAT eventually evacuated them—Quinn among the last groups. Dennis praised the teachers: “One of the teachers… he’d calm the kids down and he’d go check and make sure the doors locked.” Reunited, the family faced the devastating news: Quinn had lost four friends, including a hockey teammate. “My daughter lost four friends that day,” Dennis said, tears flowing. “I’ve been crying all day.”

What Quinn “witnessed” wasn’t the shooting itself but the terror: hearing gunfire, fleeing, and hiding while fearing for her life and others’. She didn’t see the shooter, but the psychological impact is profound. Dennis focuses on supporting her: “I just let them talk to me for now… What can I do for you right now, my girl?”

The Victims: Young Lives Stolen

The shooting claimed young, vibrant lives. At the school: Abel Mwansa Jr., 12, a recent immigrant from Zambia described as a “leader” with a “genuine smile”; Ezekiel Schofield, 13, an “amazing child” always smiling; Kylie Smith, 12, known since babyhood; Zoe Benoah, 12; and Kerry Lambert, 12. The educator, Shanda Abigana Duran, 39, died protecting students.

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What we know about B.C. mass shooting: Students, educator, shooter’s family among victims | CBC News

At home: Jennifer Strang, a hardworking single mother, and her son Emmett. Dennis knew them all through community sports. “I’ve watched these kids grow up since preschool,” he lamented. Two survivors, including 12-year-old Maya Gebala, remain in critical condition after heroic acts like attempting to lock doors.

The Shooter: Mental Health Failures Exposed

Jesse Van Rootselaar’s background reveals systemic gaps. Police had responded to mental health calls at the home, seizing and returning firearms. Friends noted struggles, including a prior arson attempt. Van Rootselaar’s transgender identity has been politicized online, but experts emphasize untreated mental illness as the core issue. Dennis dismissed focus on the shooter: “I give two shits about what the shooter is all about… We’re here for the victims.”

Canada’s gun laws are strict, but questions arise about how Van Rootselaar obtained weapons. Rural isolation limits mental health access, prompting calls for telehealth and early interventions.

Community and National Response: From Grief to Solidarity

Tumbler Ridge has rallied. A candlelight vigil drew hundreds, flames piercing the night as residents mourned.

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Memorials overflow with flowers, teddies, and messages.

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GoFundMe campaigns, like one for Maya Gebala raising over $280,000, support families.

Nationally, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau pledged mental health funding. International condolences poured in, from Ukraine’s president to NHL teams. Mayor Darryl Krakowka noted the town’s grief: “Everybody’s going to be grieving.”

Dennis highlighted global support: “It’s amazing to see… from everywhere around the world.” Yet, he stressed privacy and healing over politics.

Broader Implications: Lessons in Prevention and Resilience

This tragedy reignites debates on gun control, mental health, and school safety. Despite bans on assault weapons, illegal firearms persist. Transgender youth face higher mental health risks due to discrimination, per groups like The Trevor Project. Rural communities need better resources—experts advocate for expanded telehealth and community programs.

Comparisons to past incidents like the 1989 École Polytechnique massacre underscore Canada’s relative rarity of such events, but highlight vulnerabilities. Stakeholders from gun control advocates to conservative voices call for balanced reforms, substantiated by data showing mental health as a key factor.

Dennis’s message: Avoid division. “We need prayers, not politics,” echoing other families.

Conclusion: Hope in the Midst of Heartache

As of February 15, 2026, Tumbler Ridge heals one day at a time. Quinn Campbell, defying the odds, processes her trauma with family support. Her call to Dennis—a desperate plea amid gunfire—captures the human cost. The viral post’s drama pales against the real anguish: a father’s tears, a daughter’s fear, a community’s loss.

Yet, stories of bravery endure—the teacher checking doors, older students comforting Quinn, SWAT’s methodical rescue. In memorials dotted with teddies and candles, hope flickers. Tumbler Ridge’s mountains stand as sentinels over a resilient people. As Dennis said, “Better days will come.” For now, they hold memories tight, wrapping families in love.