Anyone who was living in Orlando in June of 2016 remembers that Sunday morning.
We woke up to news of a shooting at a nightclub. There were multiple fatalities. Maybe 20. Then maybe 40.
It couldn’t be 40, could it? This nation had never witnessed such a thing.
We would come to learn that 49 innocent souls — people who had simply wanted to dance their cares away for a night — lost their lives at the Pulse nightclub.
We vowed to never forget. And we haven’t. But in the years since, this community has been plagued with debate, arguments and even controversy over the best way to do so.
While I’m a guy who usually has no problems pointing fingers, it seems like there should be only one real goal right now — to move forward.
“This is all about 49 people who lost their lives. That’s all it should ever be about.”
Those are the words of Deborah Bowie, the executive director of the onePULSE Foundation, a group that has been at the center of the debate with questions about everything from its finances to its mission.
Bowie, whose own sister was killed nearly 30 years ago by gun violence and who moved to Orlando for this job less than a year ago, walked into a difficult situation. So much so that there are questions about the future of the organization itself.
Still, after years of raw and painful community grieving, there seems to be an avenue for hope now that the city of Orlando recently purchased the former nightclub site to finally advance plans for a long-talked-about memorial.
There’s an argument to be made that it should’ve been that way all along. When a government is in charge, there are mandates with regard to transparency and finances.
I don’t fault those involved with onePULSE for their initial desires to have a freestanding organization. In fact, it made sense to me at the time. But seven years later, with as much turmoil as ever and a memorial that’s still little more than a dream, it seems like change is in order.
That’s what Mayor Buddy Dyer decided after he said a number of survivors and victims’ families asked the city to step in. “This wasn’t something that we wanted to do,” Dyer said. “It was something we felt compelled to do.”
One of the most unfortunately complicated and, at times, unseemly aspects of this story has been the acquisition of the former club. One of the owners, Barbara Poma, originally said she was willing to donate the site. Then another partner said that wasn’t the deal. Debates over an appropriate purchase price got even more complicated when onePULSE execs said they learned the club owners had already received insurance payments for the property. Suddenly onePULSE was at odds with Poma, the woman who originally founded the organization but then left.
The bottom line: Debate and controversy seemed to have dominated the entire conversation, overshadowing what should’ve been the primary goal all along — honoring the victims.
That’s why Dyer said city leaders ultimately decided to purchase the property. “Would we rather they donate that site? Absolutely,” he said. “But would we rather that property become something other than a memorial? Absolutely not.”
Indeed, no one wants to contemplate a day when a place where 49 innocents lost their lives somehow becomes just another fast-food joint or smoke shop.
Twenty years from now, I don’t think most people will care as much how a memorial came to exist as much as that it did.
It’s never simple for communities to decide how to honor victims of a mass murder — a ridiculously common occurrence in this country. A quote that has haunted me for months appeared in our newspaper back in May when a consultant who has worked with other trauma-rocked cities said, “There’s a saying in this line of work: If you want to start a war, build a memorial.”
That is heartbreakingly sad. Yet also understandable.
Inside the real estate dilemma between onePULSE Foundation and its former exec
It took a shattered community in Newtown, Connecticut nearly a decade to decide how it wanted to honor the 20 children and six educators killed at Sandy Hook Elementary.
But when the memorial finally opened last year, one of the parents told NPR that the memorial took her breath away. She said what finally evolved near the rebuilt school was “perfectly appointed in honoring and providing a place of contemplation and reflection for a day that really changed the country.”
Similarly, it seems like there is more widespread support for a memorial than a museum here in Orlando. Dyer says the memorial is his top priority, but that the city’s first step has to be “a lot of listening.”
I’m not sure whether onePULSE has a future with this endeavor. When I asked Bowie about the fate of the organization, she took a deep breath and said: “I don’t know.” She said so with weariness.
onePULSE has done some life-changing things, including awarding more than $1 million worth of scholarships, and staged some unifying events, including a 5K run. But road races aren’t at the core of what this community needs or why this organization was formed.
It seems like reflection is in order, and I sense the foundation’s well-intentioned leaders know this. One thing the organization should consider is donating the land it purchased near the nightclub to the city to complete plans for a memorial.
No matter what happens, the nonprofit will have to be accountable to its donors, both private and public.
But the community’s focus needs to be moving ahead — something Bowie said she firmly believes as one who still grieves the loss of her own sister decades ago.
“That was my why,” she said. “It’s why I came here. That pain never goes away. I understand people move on, society moves on — but the families can’t. And that is why this project has to move forward.”
smaxwell@orlandosentinel.com
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