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For 24/7 mental health support in English or Spanish, call the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration鈥檚 at 800-662-4357. You can also reach a trained crisis counselor through the by calling or texting 988.

UVALDE 鈥� At 7 a.m. on a Monday in February, Jessica Trevi帽o, with squinty eyes, goes into her sons鈥� bedroom and in a low, raspy voice tells them to wake up. Eleven-year-old David James rolls out of bed, but 9-year-old Austin, the youngest of the four Trevi帽o children, doesn鈥檛 move from the lower bunk bed.

The siblings get ready for school. David James grabs the car keys and starts the family鈥檚 black Ram 1500 truck for his mother.

Austin, who is still in bed covered by a blanket, tells his mother he doesn鈥檛 want to go to school.

鈥淚 can鈥檛 leave you by yourself,鈥� Jessica, 40, tells him, leaning over his body as their fat bulldog, Chubs, tries to jump on the bed. 鈥淵ou have to go to school.鈥�

Austin doesn鈥檛 move. The night before, the sound of police sirens woke him.

鈥淚t鈥檚 鈥檆ause there were cop sounds last night so he鈥檚 kinda scared,鈥� David James tells his mother.

It鈥檚 not the first time one of the children won鈥檛 go to school because something spooked them. And Jessica knows it won鈥檛 be the last.

Three of the four Trevi帽o children were students at Robb Elementary on May 24, 2022, and were on campus for an awards ceremony as an 18-year-old approached the school.

That day, Jessica picked up David James, Austin and her now 12-year-old daughter, Illia帽a, from the school about 11:30 a.m.

Jessica later found out that as she was driving off, the shooter had just walked into a classroom, killing two teachers and 19 students 鈥� including Illia帽a鈥檚 best friend, a , who was Illia帽a鈥檚 defender when other children made fun of her.

A few days after the shooting, Jessica took Illia帽a, whom she calls Nana, to Uvalde鈥檚 plaza to leave a teddy bear and flowers at a memorial for her friend. Suddenly, Illia帽a鈥檚 heart began to race and she had trouble breathing. Jessica took her to the local hospital, which transferred her to an intensive care unit in San Antonio. The doctor there told Jessica that Illia帽a was suffering cardiac arrest and her body shut down from acute stress. She was released after a week.

鈥淣ana was born with a heart of gold,鈥� Jessica says. 鈥淪o when it breaks, that鈥檚 how she reacted.鈥�

Now, things like the sound of police sirens, people yelling 鈥� just about any loud sound 鈥� can be triggers for Austin and Illia帽a, who have developed post-traumatic stress disorder because of the shooting.

This morning, Jessica convinces Austin to get out of bed but agrees to let him miss school. She goes to the kitchen to get Illia帽a鈥檚 antidepressant and anti-anxiety medicine from a lunch bag filled with prescription bottles. Then she hands Austin the pink ear protectors he uses to block out noise.

Austin says he puts them on 鈥渙nly when I hear the screams.鈥�

Jessica said Austin鈥檚 therapist has told her that the kids may talk about the shooting like they were there in an unconscious attempt to empathize with the children they saw at school every day.

In the aftermath of the school shooting in Uvalde, much of the public鈥檚 attention has focused on the families of the children who died at Robb Elementary. Artists from San Antonio painted murals all over downtown memorializing the students and teachers who were killed. A year later, the city鈥檚 plaza is still adorned with crosses and photos of those who died.

The shooting has also caused emotional and psychological damage to a generation of Uvalde children, particularly the more than 500 students who attended Robb last spring. For the Trevi帽o family, the shooting has reshaped their lives and influenced their children鈥檚 outlook on life. It has forced them to learn coping skills and learn how to be resilient.

Illia帽a, David James and Austin barely escaped the horror their fellow students endured 鈥� hiding in their classrooms and hearing gunshots and the screams of terrified children. They each lost friends and classmates in the massacre and are dealing with that trauma in their own way.

Illia帽a gets panic attacks, and David James and Austin have nightmares. Austin wets the bed at night and has accidents at school.

Illia帽a and Austin are in therapy. So is the family鈥檚 oldest child, 13-year-old Amelia帽a, who was in middle school last year and since the shooting has taken on the responsibility of helping to emotionally support her younger siblings. David James refuses to see a therapist.

Between 2018 and 2019, more than 100,000 American children attended a school where a shooting occurred, according to research co-authored by Maya Rossin-Slater, an associate professor at Stanford University School of Medicine.

鈥淲hile many students are physically unharmed, studies have consistently found consequences to their mental health, educational, and economic trajectories that last for years, and potentially decades, to come,鈥� .

Most people 鈥渄on鈥檛 think about the parents who had children who survived,鈥� says David, Jessica鈥檚 husband. 鈥淎ll the costs that we have to pay for because of the shooting, like therapy and other things.鈥�

Jessica says she gave the state-funded counseling at Uvalde鈥檚 new resiliency center a try for Illia帽a but didn鈥檛 like its practice of rotating staff, which meant her daughter couldn鈥檛 see the same counselor at every visit.

Jessica takes a sip from the first of four cups of coffee she will drink today and swallows a tablet for her oral chemotherapy. She was diagnosed with breast cancer in November but opted not to undergo radiation treatment because she fears it would sap the last of her energy.

鈥淚鈥檓 doing oral chemotherapy because otherwise I wouldn鈥檛 be able to take care of them,鈥� Jessica says, motioning toward her children. 鈥淎nd as you can tell, it鈥檚 a job to take care of them.鈥�

David, 42, stays in bed. He is paralyzed from the waist down, so it鈥檚 hard for him to help with the children in the mornings.

By 7:45 a.m., Jessica gets the four children in the truck and drops them off at their new schools: Illia帽a, David James and Austin attend Sacred Heart, the local private Catholic school, while Amelia帽a 鈥� an angsty teenager who鈥檚 easily annoyed by her mother鈥檚 advice 鈥� goes to Uvalde Classical Academy, a private high school. The Trevi帽os hoped their kids would be safer at private schools and that maybe Illia帽a wouldn鈥檛 face bullies.

After drop-offs, Jessica returns home with Austin, where she鈥檒l spend the day with him until it鈥檚 time to pick them up again. She quit her job cleaning vacation cabins shortly after the shooting so she could be around her children as much as possible. Now they survive on David鈥檚 disability checks and Jessica鈥檚 dwindling savings.

David says he sometimes feels helpless, knowing that he doesn鈥檛 have the tools to help his children cope with the trauma the shooting has caused.

鈥淚t鈥檚 hard for me because I鈥檓 the type of man that if there鈥檚 anything in the way of my family鈥檚 happiness, I would move it out of the way,鈥� he says. 鈥淏ut after [the shooting], there鈥檚 nothing to move out of the way, there鈥檚 nothing physically that I can do. It鈥檚 all mental. So that鈥檚 what makes it really hard for me.

鈥淚t鈥檚 just really hard because I know how my children were before the shooting.鈥�

February 21

On a Tuesday evening, Jessica takes Illia帽a and Amelia帽a to a park near the edge of town for softball practice. The Trevi帽os got all of the kids into basketball or softball after the shooting to help them stay busy. As her daughters join the other girls on the team, Jessica stands nearby, holding a can of Monster Energy drink. It helps offset the chemo pills, which make her lethargic.

A coach bats fly balls to the girls. Jessica looks on and laughs when she sees Illia帽a, who is twirling and dancing in place on the field, entertaining herself. Jessica says Illia帽a 鈥� a sassy preteen who enjoys drawing, reading Japanese comics and listening to rock music 鈥� joined the softball team mostly to spend time with her older sister, who takes the sport more seriously and dreams of playing on the Baylor University team.

Jessica treasures moments like this, when they can all forget what happened. But it instantly makes her feel guilty for enjoying her children. So many parents in Uvalde lost their children last year.

鈥淚t breaks my heart that I have mine and they don鈥檛,鈥� Jessica says. 鈥淭he guilt eats me up.

鈥淚 just feel so blessed to still have them with me.鈥�

In the first weeks after the shooting, Jessica gave media interviews explaining that while her children weren鈥檛 physically harmed, the tragedy affected their entire family鈥檚 mental health. She opened a GoFundMe account to help with their medical and therapy costs.

Most people were supportive, she said, but some strangers sent ugly messages, telling Jessica that her children don鈥檛 deserve help because they shouldn鈥檛 be considered survivors.

One person wrote: 鈥淲hy is Illia帽a getting help if she鈥檚 not one of the survivors?鈥�

Later in the evening, Jessica gets a call from Amelia帽a鈥檚 best friend鈥檚 mother, who tells Jessica that her daughter has troubling screenshots of a private chat group. A teenager in the group told the other participants that he hated Amelia帽a and threatened to hurt Amelia帽a鈥檚 father.

This worries Jessica enough that she goes to the police station to file a report, worried the boy may follow through on his threats.

Before May 24, Jessica says, she would have dismissed the incident.

鈥淏efore, I鈥檇 be like, 鈥楧茅jalo,鈥欌�� 鈥� let it go 鈥� 鈥溾�榯hey鈥檙e just kids talking shit,鈥欌�� she says. 鈥淏ut now you can鈥檛 second-guess yourself. Now that we know what could happen, now that we know kids have access to guns.鈥�

February 23

After dropping the kids off at school on Thursday, Jessica drives an hour and a half to San Antonio for a follow-up appointment with her cancer doctor. The MRI results show she has another nickel-sized tumor, but the other tumors have shrunk. The doctor says she can continue with oral chemotherapy but eventually she will have to go through radiation.

Jessica plans to push that off for as long as she can.

鈥淢y biggest priority right now is to keep Nana safe at school and deal with the bullying,鈥� Jessica says. 鈥淚 usually put what the kids need first before anything else.鈥�

The cancer isn鈥檛 her only worry: Before her diagnosis in November, Jessica developed desmoid tumors in her left leg 鈥� they aren鈥檛 cancerous, but they cause her constant discomfort.

鈥淚鈥檓 in a lot of pain,鈥� she says, rubbing her thigh as she picks up the boys鈥� clothes from the living room floor after returning from San Antonio. 鈥淯sually, it鈥檚 at night that I deal with a lot of pain, but I think it鈥檚 because it鈥檚 been hectic lately.鈥�

Doctors have told her that surgery is an option, but there鈥檚 a risk the tumors will grow back. The pain gets so bad that Jessica says she鈥檚 thought about amputating her legs.

鈥淢y doctor said, 鈥業鈥檓 game if you鈥檙e game.鈥� But we think about the kids a lot,鈥� Jessica says, standing over a pile of laundry before she goes back into the kitchen to season chicken for dinner.

* * *

Having both parents in wheelchairs isn鈥檛 an option. David does what he can to help Jessica, but in his mind it鈥檚 not enough.

鈥淚鈥檝e always worked, that鈥檚 how I was built,鈥� he said on a recent afternoon as he watered his lawn outside of their four-bedroom home on a quiet street shaded by large trees. 鈥淪ometimes I want to go to work but I can鈥檛.鈥�

As a boy, he earned money collecting lost golf balls at the local country club. As an adult, he worked in the oil fields, operated heavy machinery and then became a truck driver. In November 2019, he was driving an 18-wheeler on a rainy day and lost control. The rig rolled and threw him out of the cab. He survived but was paralyzed from the waist down.

Still, he helps around the house. He cooks, he plays basketball with the boys, he coaches Austin鈥檚 football team and he drives the kids to practice 鈥� he plays softball in a wheelchair league and connects with his children through sports. At his daughters鈥� softball games, he鈥檚 among the loudest parents.

Jessica and David met at a dance in 2008, two years after she had moved to Uvalde from her hometown of Houston. They started dating and nearly two years later Jessica was pregnant with Amelia帽a. They got married in July 2011.

Since the shooting, Jessica says she wants to move out of Uvalde. She wants her children to grow up somewhere far from reminders of the shooting.

鈥淚 want my kids to get better, but how can I do that if they鈥檙e in the same spot?鈥� she says.

David says he doesn鈥檛 want to move 鈥� he was born here and loves Uvalde too much. He says he wants his children to grow up with the same positive experiences he had.

Despite what happened at Robb, David still feels like Uvalde is a safe town 鈥� as safe as anywhere else anyway. He can go to El Herradero de Jalisco, a town watering hole, for Mexican food and see the same people there every time.

鈥淚 don鈥檛 have to worry about who鈥檚 around me and my kids,鈥� he says.

March 21

It鈥檚 a sunny afternoon in March, and Austin is in the backyard hitting softballs off a tee into a net. He says he stayed home from school this morning because he had a hard time falling asleep the night before and woke up with a fever. Jessica gave him the benefit of the doubt and let him stay home.

Nearly every day since the shooting, Jessica has to convince Austin or Illia帽a to go to school, and they miss school at least once a week. Sometimes Jessica gets a call to pick them up before the school day is done because Illia帽a has a panic attack or Austin鈥檚 anxiety gets too intense.

Austin admits that he wasn鈥檛 really sick this morning: 鈥淚 had a bad thought last night that I was going to be in a mental hospital,鈥� he says, picking up a softball and setting it on the tee. He spends the next half hour methodically hitting balls, working on his swing.

鈥淥ne more for the fans,鈥� he says, pretending he鈥檚 in a real game. He swings but barely chips the ball, which dribbles off the tee.

鈥淭he fans deserve better,鈥� he says, grabbing the ball. He swings again, this time hitting the ball squarely. It soars in the air before hitting a tree in the backyard.

鈥淵eah!鈥� Austin yells, dropping the bat and running inside the house.

Illia帽a emerges to take her own batting practice. Jessica wanders out to the backyard to watch as her daughter gathers the neon-colored softballs, puts them in a bucket and places one on top of the tee. One by one, she hits the balls into the net.

A few hours earlier, Jessica had rushed to Sacred Heart with hydroxyzine, used to treat anxiety, after the school called to tell her Illia帽a was biting her fingertips and hyperventilating. Jessica decided to bring her daughter home. After the shooting, a doctor diagnosed Illia帽a with post-traumatic stress disorder, major depressive disorder and Graves鈥� disease, an autoimmune disorder.

Jessica watches as Illia帽a practices, wondering why her daughter continues having panic attacks and whether they鈥檙e going to increase as May 24 approaches.

鈥淚 don鈥檛 know if it鈥檚 the anniversary coming,鈥� Jessica says.

She鈥檚 noticed that on the 24th of any month, Illia帽a and Austin get more anxious and Illia帽a鈥檚 panic attacks are more frequent. And just a mention of Illia帽a鈥檚 best friend can trigger a panic attack.

Before the shooting, Illia帽a was targeted for constant bullying by her classmates. Her friend was always there to confront the bullies. Now she鈥檚 gone, and Illia帽a is dealing with a new set of bullies at her new school.

鈥淣ana gets teased a lot about her height and weight,鈥� Jessica says later as she fries corn tortillas in oil on the stove while Amelia帽a does homework at the kitchen table. 鈥淚 have to keep reassuring her there鈥檚 nothing wrong with her, that it鈥檚 OK to be different.

鈥淚t hurts me to see her crying because she doesn鈥檛 feel like she鈥檚 good enough to be someone鈥檚 friend,鈥� Jessica adds. 鈥淎nd it鈥檚 just me to reassure them.鈥�

March 22

Most days are unpredictable in the Trevi帽o house. Jessica and David try to maintain a routine for their children, but anxiety and panic attacks force them to improvise.

At about 11:30 a.m. on a Wednesday, Jessica packs sandwiches in a red lunch bag with Amelia帽a鈥檚 name on it, then drops the bag off at school and returns home to help her husband get dressed and in his wheelchair.

Half an hour later, a staffer at Sacred Heart leaves Jessica a voicemail, asking if she wants to bring Illia帽a鈥檚 medication or pick her up 鈥� she鈥檚 having another panic attack. Jessica rushes to the school.

鈥淭his is always the worst part,鈥� Jessica says on the way to the school. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 know what I鈥檓 walking into, like does she just not feel well, or is she having a panic attack?鈥�

Jessica goes into the school and emerges a few minutes later holding the 12-year-old鈥檚 hand. They get into the car and Illia帽a says her stomach and lower back were hurting.

鈥淪omething was going through my head,鈥� she tells Jessica.

鈥淲hat did your counselor say you do when that happens?鈥� Jessica says. 鈥淭o think of something else and breathe.鈥�

鈥淏ut I couldn鈥檛,鈥� Illia帽a says.

鈥淲hat did you dream about last night?鈥� Jessica asks Illia帽a.

鈥淎bout being at Robb and everyone was there and the kids screaming and yelling.鈥�

When they arrive home, David is in front of the house, smoking a cigarette.

鈥淎re you all right?鈥� he asks Illia帽a.

鈥淢y back was hurting,鈥� she tells him.

Inside the house, Jessica gives Illia帽a a pill, which she swallows with a drink of water.

* * *

An hour after Illia帽a gets home, Jessica receives another message from Sacred Heart, asking her to bring a set of clean clothes for Austin, who had an accident at school. She grabs a pair of red shorts, a T-shirt and Huggies wet wipes.

鈥淚t鈥檚 one of those days, David,鈥� she says.

鈥淭ell me about it,鈥� he says.

On the drive, Jessica says she鈥檚 going to take Austin home.

鈥淎s a parent, you鈥檙e never ready for stuff like this. We tackle it because we鈥檙e moms but deep down it tears you up inside,鈥� she says.

She says she and David have tried to understand what their 9-year-old is going through. They have repeatedly asked him what鈥檚 wrong.

鈥淲hen it first happened, Austin told me, 鈥楾hat guy got me all screwed up in the head,鈥欌�� Jessica says, referring to the shooter.

鈥� 鈥榊ou can鈥檛 let him win,鈥� I told him,鈥� Jessica says.

She goes into the school again and comes back out with Austin. On the way home, they stop at a convenience store, where she buys him some chicken tenders and a bottle of Coke. When they arrive home, Austin showers and emerges in clean clothes.

He grabs his Coke and goes into the backyard, where he lines up the bottle cap on the edge of a handrail and opens the bottle with a quick smack of his hand. The Coke fizzes out and he immediately begins to drink it before it spills.

He says last night he heard loud bangs outside his home and the noise kept him up and made him anxious. In class, he kept thinking about what those sounds could be. He says he decided not to tell his teacher what was going through his mind that caused him to have an accident.

Chubs, Austin鈥檚 brown and white bulldog, starts reaching for Austin鈥檚 food. The boy wraps his arms around the dog.

鈥淗e protects me from dangerous people,鈥� Austin says.

* * *

After Jessica picks up Amelia帽a and David James from school, she tells the girls to get ready because it鈥檚 picture day for the softball team.

Illia帽a sits in her bedroom and begins to cry. Jessica goes into her room, strokes her hair and asks her what鈥檚 wrong. She tells her mom she doesn鈥檛 want to take pictures.

Jessica asks her why.

鈥淭hey鈥檙e going to make fun of me,鈥� Illia帽a says.

Austin goes inside the bedroom and asks his sister what鈥檚 wrong. Illia帽a, irritated, yells: 鈥淕et out of my room, close the door.鈥�

Jessica leaves Illia帽a鈥檚 room and begins to curl Amelia帽a鈥檚 hair as the teenager sits on a chair in a living room, watching a video on her cellphone.

鈥淚t just hurts to see her like that,鈥� Jessica says, passing a curling iron through Amelia帽a鈥檚 hair. 鈥淪he is just having a shitty day all around.鈥�

When Illia帽a finally emerges from her room and sees her sister ready for pictures, she decides to go after all.

March 24

Like most Fridays, David is grilling dinner for the family. The house is full of people: Their neighbors are here along with two of David鈥檚 cousins, Oscar Trevi帽o and Ida Velasquez, who brings her 8-year-old daughter to play with the Trevi帽o children.

The smell of boiling beans fills the kitchen. Outside, smoke pours from the grill and Mexican corridos play on a Bluetooth speaker as Austin and David James play basketball in the street, teaching Velasquez鈥檚 daughter how to shoot.

Illia帽a stays in her room and begins to cry. Jessica grabs a bottle of pills and rushes into her daughter鈥檚 bedroom along with Velasquez.

鈥淵ou鈥檙e OK,鈥� they tell her.

鈥淣o, I鈥檓 not,鈥� Illia帽a snaps back.

Jessica calls for Amelia帽a, who tries to get her younger sister to start a breathing exercise.

鈥淚 can鈥檛,鈥� Illia帽a says.

Velasquez tries to rub Illia帽a鈥檚 back to console her, but Illia帽a doesn鈥檛 want to be touched.

鈥淟et go! Let go! Let go!鈥� Illia帽a screams. 鈥淪top touching me.鈥�

Jessica tries to convince Illia帽a again to do a breathing exercise. Illia帽a buries her face into a plush bear and muffles, 鈥淚鈥檓 sorry.鈥�

Illia帽a then starts to bite her fingertips. Amelia帽a rushes out of the room to get Steve, her favorite kitten from the litter that the family cat gave birth to recently. Amelia帽a passes the kitten to Illia帽a and after about 15 minutes, Illia帽a calms down.

Everyone leaves the room. Illia帽a stays in bed, caressing Steve.

In the kitchen, Velasquez wants to cry, too. It hurts her to see her niece struggling. Jessica tells her to hold it together. If Illia帽a hears or sees her crying, she may break down again.

鈥淵ou have to be mentally strong to go through this, because look what time it is,鈥� Jessica tells Velasquez. 鈥淚t鈥檚 not like you can take the kids anywhere right now for help.鈥�

After dinner, Illia帽a finally emerges from the house, walks to her aunt and hugs her without saying a word.

鈥淵ou OK, mija?鈥� Velasquez asks her. Illia帽a nods her head.

It鈥檚 past midnight before the house is finally quiet again. Jessica walks to the back porch and lights up a Marlboro, staring off into the night. She leans against the porch railing, arms crossed.

鈥淚 come out here to think: 鈥榃hat can I do better the next day?鈥欌�� she says, then stubs out the cigarette and flicks the butt into the yard.

March 25

The next day is Saturday, and like most weekends, the Trevi帽os try to spend time away from the house as a family.

They pile into the pickup and drive to Del Rio, pulling up to a house where a group of men dressed in boots, denim jeans and black leather vests with the Bad Company motorcycle club logo are waiting with their Harley-Davidson motorcycles.

The bikers greet the Trevi帽o children warmly.

The motorcycle group is made up of military veterans who routinely participate in public events to help raise awareness about mental health issues. Last summer, shortly after the shooting, the club came to Uvalde to take part in a community event for children affected by the shooting and met the Trevi帽o children.

As part of the event, Austin also got to smash a pie in club member Albert Trevi帽o鈥檚 face. Since then, Albert 鈥� who served four years in the Army, including a tour in Afghanistan, and was diagnosed with PTSD in 2016 鈥� has stayed in touch with Austin and his family. Albert, 33, said he and Austin got along right away because of the boy鈥檚 charismatic personality.

He said he appreciates the Trevi帽os doing everything they can to provide a support system for their children, even with their limited resources. He said his brother, who did two tours in Afghanistan with the Army, took his own life after struggling with PTSD, so Albert wants to give the Trevi帽o children another adult to turn to for help.

鈥淕rowing up in a Latino family, mental health is kind of like a joke,鈥� he said. 鈥淭hey say stuff like, 鈥楴o, pobrecito, esta menso鈥欌�� 鈥� No, poor him, he鈥檚 just dumb.

The bikers help Illia帽a, David James and Austin put on helmets. The children sit behind the men, who rev the Harleys鈥� engines before they take off on rides around the city.

Alexander 鈥淭ripp鈥� Arneson, a club member, said that veterans diagnosed with PTSD use motorcycle riding as a form of therapy.

鈥淩iding the bike, you feel the cold wind hit your arms and just feel the speed of the bike,鈥� he says. The club, he adds, wants to help the children create happy memories and have something positive to think about when they鈥檙e feeling anxious.

鈥淭hey shouldn鈥檛 go through with what they experienced,鈥� he says. 鈥淪o whenever they鈥檙e feeling bad, this helps them remind them that there are people who care for them.鈥�

When the rides are done, the family decides to go to Blue Hole Park, a popular local swimming spot.

The children excitedly run to a bridge over a broad stretch of San Felipe Creek and jump into the water.

David waits in the truck, out of the sun, while Jessica sits in a lawn chair nearby, wearing a hat and sunglasses, and watches her kids frolicking in the water. She wonders out loud: 鈥淒o you think the world still thinks of these kids?鈥�

鈥淣ot really,鈥� Illia帽a chimes in as she emerges from the water, dripping wet in her basketball shorts.

鈥淪o you think they鈥檙e just like, 鈥榃hatever鈥� now?鈥� Jessica asks.

鈥淵eah, there are other things that are happening in the world,鈥� Illia帽a responds before diving into the creek again. A teenage boy asks Amelia帽a for her number. Austin chases him off with a Nerf water gun. 鈥淕et away from my sister,鈥� he says.

Jessica smiles.

鈥淎t least they get to be kids here and be worry-free,鈥� she says. For a little while, everyone is happy, and the day that a teenager walked into a school with a rifle and changed their lives feels far away. That鈥檚 what Jessica and David want for their children 鈥� to be able to forget and just be normal kids again.

鈥淚 don鈥檛 want them remembered as Robb kids,鈥� Jessica says. 鈥淚 want them remembered as good kids.鈥�

May 20

It鈥檚 four days before the one-year mark of the Robb Elementary shooting. The Trevi帽os have decided they don鈥檛 want to be in Uvalde for it. So they鈥檝e rented an Airbnb in Del Rio for a week.

The children are excited to go. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a lot of fun over there,鈥� David James says.

鈥淚 think the kids need a break from everything going on here,鈥� Jessica says. 鈥淚t鈥檚 just not good for them, it鈥檚 not good for their mental health.

鈥淢aybe next year will be different.鈥�

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