Stunned Community Asks What No One Can Answer: Why?

They came with flowers and notes, with tear-stained faces and tiny stuffed animals, with their young children in their arms. They came to say they were sorry. They came to try to understand but left unsatisfied.

It was a question everyone was asking but no one could answer: Why?

The grief felt by the community mixed with outrage when police said that Steven Allen Abrams, the 39-year-old man accused of plowing his car into a preschool playground Monday, allegedly told investigators he wanted to “execute” innocent children.

“I’m angry,” said Andrew Wright, 33, whose two youngest children were playing in the sandbox when the car smashed through the fence, injuring his 4-year-old son. Wright’s son, Ian, was one of five children to be taken to local hospitals, along with one teacher.

Now he is left to explain to his children that their playmates are gone.

“Why isn’t Brandon at school today?” Ian asked his friend’s dad before an early morning prayer meeting on Tuesday.

Brandon Wiener, 3, died last night at a local hospital. Sierra Soto, 4, died at the scene, her small body so damaged that paramedics would not let her mother see her, even though Cindy Soto begged to hold her only child.

Dozens of parents and teachers gathered Tuesday morning in the sanctuary of the church just across the street from the preschool seeking a reason that would make sense. But there wasn’t one.

“We aren’t here to give answers this morning,” said Tom Bazacas, pastor of the Lighthouse Community church. “There aren’t answers. Why here? Why now? Why us? It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It’s just about evil that is real in this world.”

The magnitude of the loss hit everyone hard.

Along Harbor Boulevard, some businesses lowered their flags to half-staff. In Fullerton, teachers at Color Our World Daycare grimly wondered whether such a tragedy could happen to their school, if it could happen just about anywhere. In Santa Ana, the Orange County Board of Supervisors adjourned their meeting Tuesday in memory of the two preschoolers.

“Our thoughts and prayers go out to the families of the victims as they mourn the loss of their loved ones,” said Supervisor Jim Silva.

The recent massacre of students at Columbine High School outside Denver was mentioned by many. The tragedy Monday night, some said, marked one more sign that society was going crazy, that something was wrong.

And as in Colorado, it was important to come to the scene of the crash, to be near others. Four-year-old Christopher Woycheese clutched his father with one hand and a bouquet of pastel carnations in the other. The little blond boy placed them on the sidewalk near the preschool, now the site of a makeshift shrine.

“Where do those little children live now?” asked his father, Scott Woycheese.

“With the angels,” Christopher said.

Woycheese, whose eyes were red from crying, said he lived in the neighborhood and had almost enrolled Christopher at the preschool before choosing another one closer to his house. On Tuesday, he took a day off from his job as a mold maker.

“Today’s a real good day to take your kids out of day care and hug them,” he said.

But while hugs were plentiful Tuesday, some needed more help.

Sandy Hill, of the Trauma Intervention Program, talked to those affected by the tragedy about how to cope and how to help their small children understand death. While she spoke, their playful voices were a welcome background noise.

Some drew pictures. Others led their parents up to the choir loft, seemingly unaware of the day’s sadness. Instead, it was the adults who sobbed and clutched each other in group hugs.

“It’s OK for your child to see you cry or to tell your child you are sad or that you were frightened when you heard what happened,” Hill said. “It’s OK to say what happened broke your heart.”

For some the heartbreak was too much to contain. Sheryl and Randy Hawkinson, the day-care center’s owners, held each other up as she spoke to those gathered.

“I don’t have words to express how I feel,” she said, her voice cracking through her tears. “I just want you to know that every one of your children are my children.”

After Hawkinson finished, volunteers and licensed therapists made their way through the crowd seeking out individuals. Even those whose children were safe said they couldn’t get the crash out of their minds.

“My daughter was supposed to be there,” said Devonna Banks, whose 2-year-old daughter, Tyler Anderson, goes to the preschool. “I took her out of school yesterday because I had to go to the doctor. She would have been on the playground. That was her class out there when it happened.”

Banks shook her head.

As the day wore on, the flowers piled higher. Crosses were stuck into the ground. Helium balloons decorated with Winnie the Pooh and Eeyore floated in the air.

“We gave our babies extra hugs and kisses in your memory XOXOXO” read one note.

A card addressed simply to “Cindy”--Sierra’s mother--was tucked into one bouquet.

Firefighters from the Costa Mesa Fire Department hand delivered a giant arrangement: “We wish we could have done more.”

In a parked car across from the preschool, Don Jacques sat staring at the broken fence.

“Why did he do it?” asked the retired man who lives just up the street. “Those poor children. Those poor children.”

A memorial service for the victims will be held Wednesday night at Lighthouse Coastal Community Church at 7 p.m. 301 Magnolia Street, Costa Mesa.

Times staff writer David Reyes contributed to this report.