Mourners attend a vigil for Corey Comperatore, the man killed during an assassination attempt at Donald Trump's campaign event last week, in Carver, PA, on July 17.Cole Burston/The Globe and Mail
A week after a 20-year-old engineering student climbed onto a roof in rural Pennsylvania and tried to assassinate former president Donald Trump, the FBI are still struggling to find a motive. But the shooter’s neighbour thinks she knows why it happened, and why Mr. Trump wasn’t killed.
“This was all about good versus evil,” says Alicia Gastmeyer, 39, whose daughter went to school with the shooter in the Pittsburgh suburb of Bethel Park. “The shooter was pure evil. And I think we saw divine intervention. I mean, how can you see that and not believe in God?”
Like a lot of people in the deeply faithful green hills of western Pennsylvania, Ms. Gastmeyer believes she witnessed a miracle last Saturday. When Mr. Trump turned his head while addressing the crowd at an outdoor rally about 85 kilometres from Bethel Park in Butler, Pa., a bullet skimming his ear but doing no more injury than that, it was the hand of a higher power, they say. A spectator, 50-year-old Corey Comperatore, was killed, and two others were critically injured in the same attack but are now in stable condition.
Alicia Gastmeyer places a Trump flag on her lawn in Bethel Park, PA. Ms. Gastmeyer believes it was a miracle when Mr. Trump turned his head, the bullet aimed at him only skimming his ear but doing no more damage.Cole Burston/The Globe and Mail
Ms. Gastmeyer and her husband, who skipped the rally because of the heat, sobbed when they saw the news of the shooting. Then Ms. Gastmeyer went outside and put up a giant “Trump Lives” sign on the front lawn – using tape to recycle an old Trump 2020 sign she had stashed away. The honks of support from passing vehicles were immediate.
“Our future almost disintegrated before our eyes,” said a teary-eyed Ms. Gastmeyer, who was formerly addicted to heroin and believes only Mr. Trump can stop her hometown’s fentanyl epidemic, bring jobs and make life more affordable again. “He’s untouchable now. He’s unstoppable.”
What we know so far about the Trump assassination attempt
While some here are turning to God for answers when it comes to last week’s attempted assassination, investigators are still trying to understand why Thomas Matthew Crooks would try to kill the Republican presidential candidate. FBI have combed through his phone, online footprint and bedroom inside his parents’ modest brick home, but so far have revealed little that suggests he held strong political views or was plotting an attack.
A flag flies at half mast outside the Bethel Park Volunteer Fire Dept. in Bethel Park, PA., on Monday, July 15.Cole Burston/The Globe and Mail
A registered Republican living in a tidy, mostly white, middle-class suburb, Mr. Crooks seemed more interested in computers, online gaming and guns than he did politics. The Globe and Mail interviewed dozens of former classmates, neighbours and co-workers, none of whom said he seemed capable of planning an assassination attempt.
Instead, most described a quiet, introverted and intelligent young man who excelled at school and had just graduated with honours from his local community college’s engineering sciences program in May. He was set to go to university in Pittsburgh in September.
Kelly Little, neighbour to Thomas Matthew Crooks, is swarmed by media after speaking with FBI investigators at her home in Bethel Park, PA.Cole Burston/The Globe and Mail
They recalled a skinny kid with glasses, acne and braces, who seemed to walk everywhere with his headphones on and his eyes cast down. In a neighbourhood filled with children, Mr. Crooks never joined the other kids on their bikes, scooters or climbing trees. When those kids became teenagers and started hanging out at the high school basketball courts or local gas station eatery, he was always absent, too.
“He never, ever socialized with any of the kids around here,” said Kelly Little, a next-door neighbour and Joe Biden supporter, watching a swarm of TV reporters parked on a nearby lawn.
Amy Shay, a Trump supporter and resident of Bethel Park, PA.Cole Burston/The Globe and Mail
Amy Shay, a Trump supporter for most of the past decade who lives down the street from the Crooks family, woke up early the day of the rally, planning to make the drive up to Butler. But she said she felt an alarming premonition something bad was going to happen.
“I had my shorts ready to go, my hat and my shoes. And I just sat on the edge of my bed,” Ms. Shay said. “Something was holding me back.”
The Crooks family – who have declined all attempts at interviews – mostly kept to themselves, and if they held strong political views, didn’t seem to promote them in any visible way, said Ms. Shay. Their home at the bottom of the hill rarely showed any signs of life, she said.
Mr. Crooks, who when he was killed was wearing a T-shirt from Demolition Ranch, a YouTube channel known for celebrating guns, was remembered by classmates as a skilled chess player and a serious student of history. On Saturday, he nearly changed the course of it.
He took the day off work from the local nursing home where he helped prepare meals, went to the gun shop near his home in a plaza flanked by a tanning salon and Mexican restaurant, and bought 50 rounds of ammunition. At a Home Depot around the corner, he purchased a step ladder and drove nearly an hour north to the sprawling Butler Farm Show grounds, where Mr. Trump was speaking that night, according to investigators.
People look on beyond a fence to the Butler Farm Show Grounds, the site of the assassination attempt on Donald Trump.Cole Burston/The Globe and Mail
For the attack, he chose an AR-15-style rifle, one of the best-selling firearms in America, and used the ladder he’d purchased to climb onto the roof of a building that houses a glass research company. Investigators, who are still probing how he was able to get within shooting distance of Mr. Trump without being stopped, say he also brought a rangefinder.
After he was killed by a Secret Service sniper, police found a bulletproof vest, three fully-loaded magazines, and two homemade remote-controlled explosive devices in his car.
Mr. Crooks did not have to look far for guns. His father, a social worker who was registered as a Libertarian, had more than 20 firearms in his name, according to Pennsylvania State Police records.
The Clairton Sportsmen's Club, a private gun range Mr. Crooks visited with his father to practice shooting.Cole Burston/The Globe and Mail
In high school, Mr. Crooks was reportedly such a bad shot that he couldn’t make the school’s rifle team, according to former classmates. On July 13, 24 hours before the assassination attempt, he went to the Clairton Sportsmen’s Club, a private gun range in the woods where both he and his father were members, and practised his aim.
Nearly a week after the shooting, investigators were still scouring the farm show grounds where, on Saturday, a panicked scene erupted. As fallout continued on the security failure, both the state police and the Secret Service blamed each other for letting the gunman slip through. Across the street, signs advertised a shooting range, Christian counselling services and a takeout restaurant that promised to “Make Pizza Great Again.”
While Mr. Crooks’ suburban community of Bethel Park is more affluent, with mixed political views, rural Butler County is certified Trump country. Manufacturing jobs have been scarce for decades. The area is dotted with trailer parks, farm supply stores and images of Jesus on billboards. American flags flap along the main streets, beside pictures of war veterans.
Nearly 66 per cent of voters in this county on the western edge of Pennsylvania cast a ballot for Mr. Trump in 2016 and 2020. About 57 per cent of Butler County’s 139,000 registered voters are Republicans, compared with only 29 per cent who are Democrats.
Churchgoers gather to 'pray for the nation', across the street from the Butler Farm Show, the site of the Trump rally where a man attempted to assassinate the former president.Cole Burston/The Globe and Mail
In a place where Mr. Trump was surrounded by adoring voters, the unthinkable happened. In the aftermath, amid all the finger pointing and blaming, many have turned to their faith.
Nan Cuny, a mental-health nurse who lives atop a hill in Butler, arrived at the rally more than six hours before Mr. Trump was to speak. She took a seat in the first row with three friends and was taking selfies and pictures in front of the stage shortly before the speech began. She has a photo of herself there timestamped at 6:10 p.m. – one minute before the first shots.
The exact time of the assassination attempt, she explained, has been seized on by some Christians as connected to Ephesians 6:11 – a Bible verse that speaks about putting on armour to take a stand against the Devil’s schemes and the struggle against the spiritual forces of evil.
Nan Cuny recalls her experience sitting in the front row at the rally for Donald Trump on Saturday when shots rang out.Cole Burston/The Globe and Mail
“It was crazy. That’s how I knew what time it was,” she said, showing a TikTok video talking about the timing of the shooting.
Church leaders around rural Pennsylvania said many people were left shaken by the violence in Butler. Three days after the shooting, a group of pastors and churchgoers gathered on a lawn outside of a tidy brick home across the street from the farm showgrounds, to pray for help.
“As we think about this past weekend, it could have been much worse,” Dave Trepanier, a pastor at Gospel Life Church in nearby Evans City, said as he sat in the circle, rubbing his eyes.
David Bordy, a pastor from St. Peter’s Reformed Church in Zelienople, Pa., attended Saturday’s rally with his wife, nine-year-old daughter and seven-and-a-half-year-old son. His son, John, who has high-functioning autism, was on his shoulders when shots rang out in the crowd. He asked his kids afterward if they understood what had happened.
“Not only as a pastor but as a father, it’s important to explain what good is and what evil is as it happens,” Mr. Bordy said. “I said ‘Look, they weren’t just shooting, they were shooting at the president. There were some people who wanted to kill him. And they weren’t successful at that. God protected him.’ ”