He killed two students and wounded a third before shooting his algebra teacher in the back. On February 2, 1996, in Moses Lake, Washington, a fourteen-year-old named Barry Loukaitis walked into Frontier Middle School dressed in a black duster and carrying two handguns, seventy-eight rounds of ammunition, and a hunting rifle. I just wanted as many victims as possible.” Schroeder: “Why would you dispose of your family? What, what have they done?” Before that day, I was planning to dispose of my family too.” So you would have done this stuff while she was at school as well?” Schroeder: “Do you have brothers and sisters?” 22-calibre rifle and move on to a shotgun, in order to prove that high-capacity assault-style rifles were unnecessary for an effective school attack.
On the day of the attack, he would start with a. handgun, a gun safe with an additional firearm, and three ready-made explosive devices. In his bedroom, he had an SKS assault rifle with sixty rounds of ammunition, a Beretta 9-mm. Then my plans were to enter and throw Molotov cocktails and pipe bombs and destroy everyone and then when the SWAT comes I would destroy myself.” I would detonate when people were fleeing, just like the Boston bombings, and blow them up too.
Sometime before the end of the school year, my plan was to steal a recycling bin from the school and take one of the pressure cookers I made and put it in the hallway and blow it up during passing period time. . . . Can you talk to me about those intentions that are in the notebook?” “I have a notebook under my bed that explains it,” LaDue replied. Schroeder asked him what his intentions were. “There are far more things out in that unit than meet the eye,” he told Schroeder, listing various kinds of explosive powder, thousands of ball bearings, pipes for pipe bombs, fifteen pounds of potassium perchlorate, nine pounds of aluminum powder, and “magnesium ribbon and rust which I use to make thermite, which burns at five thousand degrees Celsius.” From there, he intended to move on to bigger and more elaborate pressure-cooker bombs, of the sort used by the Tsarnaev brothers at the Boston Marathon bombing. He was making Molotov cocktails, LaDue said, but a deadlier variant of the traditional kind, using motor oil and tar instead of gasoline. LaDue replied, “It’s going to be hard for me to talk about.” The interview began at 7:49 P.M. “What’s going on today, John?” Schroeder asked. The four went back to the Waseca police station, and LaDue and Schroeder sat down together with a tape recorder between them. LaDue admitted that he was, but said that he didn’t want to talk about it in the storage locker. Another of the officers, Tim Schroeder, said he thought LaDue was making bombs. According to the police report, “LaDue immediately became defensive, stating that it is his storage unit and asked what I was doing and pulling away.” The officers asked him to explain what he was up to. One of the officers started to pat LaDue down. Scattered around his feet was an assortment of boxes and containers: motor oil, roof cement, several Styrofoam coolers, a can of ammunition, a camouflage bag, and cardboard boxes labelled “red iron oxide,” filled with a red powder. He was slight of build, with short-cropped brown hair and pale skin. The young man was standing in the center. A group of three officers arrived and rolled up the unit’s door. He fiddled with the lock of Unit 129 as if he were trying to break in. Why was he going through her yard instead of using the sidewalk? He walked through puddles, not around them. He was wearing a backpack and carrying a fast-food bag and was headed in the direction of the MiniMax Storage facility next to her house. On the evening of April 29th last year, in the southern Minnesota town of Waseca, a woman was doing the dishes when she looked out her kitchen window and saw a young man walking through her back yard. In the years since Columbine, school shootings changed they became ritualized.
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