From the empty swing set outside Robb Elementary School — where last week 19 children and two teachers were killed in the deadliest school shooting in Texas history — is a clear view of the Hillcrest Memorial Funeral Home.
The two buildings, their purposes once obverse, are now irreversibly linked, as this is where Uvalde starts to say goodbye.
Hillcrest, one of only two funeral homes in the small, predominantly Latino community of just 16,000 people, held the first in a long series of services Monday: visiting hours for 10-year-old Amerie Jo Garza.
In her obituary, Amerie was described as a “kind, caring, blunt, loving, sweet, sassy ... funny little diva,” who had a “heart of gold.” She loved swimming, drawing and spending time with family. She dreamed of becoming an art teacher.
Instead, she will be buried Tuesday afternoon. Amerie was shot and killed as she tried to call 911 during Tuesday’s shooting.
“A protector of her brother, and as we now know her classmates, this world will never have another Amerie,” her family wrote in the obituary.
Less than a mile away, at Rushing-Estes-Knowles Mortuary, the second service began two hours later, this one for 10-year-old Maite Rodriguez.
In her obituary, Maite was described as “kind, ambitious, friendly and a sweet soul.” Maite loved learning about the ocean and animals; especially dolphins, whales and dogs. She dreamed of becoming a marine biologist.
Outside Maite’s service was a row of service dogs, ready to comfort family and friends who were holding one another up as they walked toward the building. Outside Amerie’s service were two chaplains, prepared to do the same.
Reporters were not allowed inside either service, but a photo shared from Amerie’s showed a slideshow playing on a TV above a large flower arrangement in the shape of a heart — and to the right, her casket.
Dinosaurs, llamas, pickles and slime
Amerie’s casket reflected everything she loved: a paint palette; brushes; the Girl Scouts logo; her favorite band, BTS; and lots and lots of purple — in the center, a painting of her in a lilac dress, angel wings on both sides.
It was designed by Amerie’s family and brought to life by custom casket-maker Trey Ganem, who is based in the Jackson County town of Edna. Ganem told Buzzfeed News that he met with the family members of 19 victims — 18 of the children and one adult — on Wednesday, one day after the shooting. Then the time crunch began.
Because small caskets are not stored in bulk, Ganem had to order them from a manufacturer in Griffin, Georgia, who in turn had to work 20 hours straight to get them out on time. Then a Texas trucking company made the 26-hour trip from Texas to Georgia and back, arriving at 2 a.m. Friday.
From there, Buzzfeed reported, Ganem and his son, Billy Ganem, worked nonstop, getting only a couple of hours of sleep a night, alongside about a dozen people who volunteered to help paint, sand and apply vinyl.
By Sunday, Ganem had delivered all 19 caskets. The requests, he said, were “unforgettable.” Like one family who wanted dinosaurs, with flashlights, holding a pickle. Another wanted llamas, the TikTok logo and a splash of neon yellow slime.
“It has been an extremely emotional roller coaster for me,” Ganem told Buzzfeed. “I take away something from every experience with a family because, when they’re explaining stuff about their child, they light up. It’s like, ‘Oh, by the way, he loved this,’ you know?”
Flower shop, overflowing
As Ganem rushed to supply caskets in time for the services, Kelly Baker was struggling to fulfill a seemingly endless need for flowers.
“These babies, their lives are gone — and it’s tragic,” Baker told the Houston Chronicle. “And then having to put flowers on babies’ caskets — that’s just something no one should ever have to do.”
Just down the street from her shop, The Flower Patch, is the memorial at the city’s main square. It started with a wooden cross for each of the 21 victims. Now, those crosses are surrounded by mounds of flowers, among other gifts, up to 3 feet high.
“We weren’t prepared for this,” she said. “Of course, you can’t prepare for this. I don’t have a clue. I just know I’m going to keep doing what I’m doing and hope that it’s the best we can do for these families.”
Baker called the outpouring of support “insane,” which included at least four florists from San Antonio calling to let Baker know they were driving down to help, wanting to donate their time.
“During this tragic time, flower suppliers and wholesale floral suppliers have generously donated free flowers and products to our shops,” she wrote on the shop’s website. “Please, call us with your floral order. We will be processing as many free arrangements as possible.”
Outside, on the shop’s window, reassurance for those in need: “Uvalde strong. Here for you.”
Community gathers outside Robb Elementary
Monday also marked one of the first days the makeshift memorial in front of Robb Elementary School was open to the public since the day after the shooting. As people left the funeral home, many walked down to see the rows of bouquets, stuffed animals, handwritten condolences and photos of those lost.
One visitor, 43-year-old Marya Rodriguez, said now that the visitations and funerals have begun, it “feels all too real.”
“So many people here, myself included, keep repeating that this feels like a bad dream,” she said. “But when you see a tiny casket up close like that, you can’t look away. You can’t pretend it’s not happening anymore.”
Rodriguez said the city’s spirit shifted from grief to anger as more information about the shooting was released, each detail igniting public outrage over whether police could have saved more lives if they had only acted quickly. According to Steven McCraw, head of the Texas Department of Public Safety, one hour and 20 minutes elapsed between the first call to 911 and police finally confronting the shooter, who had fired at least 142 rounds in the school.
“We want answers, we want closure, we want to know why it was so easy for those tasked with protecting us to ruin us instead — is that really too much to ask?” she said. “We are burying our children, and we have yet to know why.”
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