Somber vow: ‘We will prevail’

Grief buffeted Virginia Tech on Tuesday like the wind off the Blue Ridge Mountains as spontaneous memorials sprouted around campus and students struggled to come to terms with the violence that exploded in their midst.

Cut lilies and carnations wilted beneath the sign marking West Ambler Johnston Hall, the dormitory where the first two students were killed. Police tape flapped in the wind around Norris Hall, the academic building where a day earlier, 30 lost their lives in a rampage that ended when the gunman took his own life.

Throughout the day, people strolled up to the police tape, looked across green lawn to the site of the carnage and drifted away -- sometimes shaking their heads, sometimes hugging their arms close.

On one end of Drill Field, the geographic and psychic heart of the campus, candles and flowers were piled beneath a standing “VT” placard, where students and well-wishers penned their thoughts.

“Rest in Peace. Fellow Hokies will never forget you,” said one note on a remembrance board at Squires Student Center.

Almost everyone on campus seemed to have known one of the dead or wounded or missing -- or they knew someone who knew someone. And though the sun shone all day -- in contrast to the stormy weather a day earlier -- it could not break through the darkness that shadowed the students, faculty and community members.

“Things like this don’t happen in southwest Virginia,” said Todd Akers, 39, who drove 90 minutes from his home on the West Virginia border to pay his respects to his alma mater and seek solace in private prayer at the campus’ War Memorial Chapel.

“I made this walk so many times when I was in college,” Akers recalled, gazing across Drill Field. “And now -- it will never be the same.”

Gov. Timothy Kaine on Tuesday ordered an independent review of Virginia Tech’s handling of Monday’s massacre after criticism that the university waited too long to inform students and faculty of a potential danger.

Kaine’s announcement came in response to a request from the school’s president and Board of Visitors that the governor take the lead in finding a group of credible, experienced outside examiners.

He said the investigation will cover actions taken Monday as well as questions about whether university officials were warned earlier that the shooter was troubled.

As the shooting unfolded, Virginia Tech Police Chief Wendell Flinchum said his department did everything it could to keep students safe.

On Tuesday, Kaine’s top law enforcement officials praised Flinchum, calling the university’s handling of the shooting “coordinated, prompt and professional.”

On the Virginia Tech campus, the day after started largely in silence, broken only by the sound of the wind -- strong updrafts brought about by the Blue Ridge Mountains that edge the campus. At 7:30 a.m., uniformed cadets raised the university and U.S. flags to half-staff on the poles in front of Burruss Hall, the main administration building.

Inside classroom buildings, corridors usually filled with students were empty. In some classrooms, cleaning staff tuned TVs to cable channels and the muffled sound of the news echoed in the emptiness.

Shortly before noon, the university’s military marching band, the Hightie Tighties, sounded a deep drumbeat and marched slowly, in uniform and in formation, toward Cassell Coliseum, the basketball arena.

Students streamed out of dorms, most wearing the school’s orange and red colors on T-shirts, sweatshirts, hats and buttons. Falling in behind the band, and around them, they were joined by parents, faculty and other supporters from this tight-knit college town where nearly everyone attends or works or plays at the university.

They converged on the arena, where a quickly scheduled mourning convocation attempted to give form to their feelings. It was part funeral, part therapy session and part rally.

“We have lost not just these dear members of our Virginia Tech community. We have lost the sense of peace that comes with learning,” said Zenobia Hikes, the university’s vice president for student affairs.

President Bush flew in from Washington and offered a message of hope.

“On this terrible day of mourning, it’s hard to imagine that a time will come when life at Virginia Tech will return to normal. But such a day will come,” Bush said.

But it was the poet Nikki Giovanni, who teaches on campus, whose words resounded most forcefully with the crowd of at least 10,000.

“We are sad today, and we will be sad for quite a while,” Giovanni said. “We are not moving on. We are embracing our mourning.”

But, she added: “We will continue to invent the future through all this sadness. We are Hokies. We will prevail. We will prevail. We will prevail.”

The stadium mourners rose to their feet and burst into the school’s sports rallying cheer -- “Let’s go Hokies! Let’s go Hokies!” -- that grew louder and louder.

One of the students at the convocation was 22-year-old Emily Alaya, a senior engineering major from Radford, Va., who said she attended the event with four friends looking for reassurance.

“We’re just depressed. It’s scary. We’re thinking, ‘Is it going to be safer later on?’ ” she said.

Alaya, who was born in Ethiopia, said she thinks the shooting will make locals residents suspicious of Asian students. Police have identified the gunman as Seung-hui Cho, a South Korean Virginia Tech student.

“There’s so much discrimination among Americans, and now there’s one more discrimination against Koreans,” she said.

Thomas Phan, a 23-year-old electrical engineering major from Chantilly, Va., did not foresee long-term consequences. “When anything happens there’s usually targeting like that. But I don’t think it will last. I think it will die down pretty fast,” he said.

As the day progressed, students carrying duffel bags and laundry baskets emerged from dormitories, many heading home for the next few days. Classes have been canceled until next week.

“I just want to spend time with my family,” said Danny Viet, a 22-year-old math major from King George, Va. “It’s too depressing here.”

By early evening, the campus had largely emptied out. Small clusters still gathered on the wide Drill Field, staring at the spot where President Bush had signed his name on the memorial placard before leaving in a helicopter.

At the campus’ War Memorial a short distance away, uniformed cadets continued a round-the-clock honor guard at a wreath in honor of the victims. As the sky turned orange just before 8 p.m., hundreds of people cradling candles in waxed cups gathered on Drill Field between the two buildings where the killings took place.

Some wrapped themselves in Virginia Tech blankets against the strong wind. The sky turned a murky blue. They lighted their candles and the field came alive with shimmery fire.

Two cadet buglers played taps, the strains fading into the darkness.

A voice over the loudspeaker rang out: “This is love.” The people raised their candles. For a few minutes, the air was silent.

Eight girls sat holding hands on the grass. One began to pray quietly: “Just bring this campus comfort,” said Emily Dempsy, 22. “They will be a great school again.”

With that, a roar echoed from across the hill: “Lets go.” Then, the crowd thundered: “Hokies!”

In the darkness, 19-year-old sophomore Amanda Sparks worked her way through the crowd with a box of tiny orange ribbons. She told people to take as many as they wished.

Sparks and four friends pooled their money to buy all the orange ribbon at a nearby Wal-Mart, then went to a local fabric store asking for a donation.

They stayed up most of the previous night tying them, and kept at it most of Tuesday.

“We decided we didn’t want black, so it would be something they could wear for the rest of the semester,” Sparks said. “Black is not us. It’s not our community. We bleed orange and maroon.”

Still, Sparks’ resolve to move forward was mixed with sadness.

“This is not something that is going to go away in a week or a month,” she said. “but it has brought us all closer together.”

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maura.reynolds@latimes.com

richard.fausset@latimes.com

Times staff writers Erika Hayasaki, Molly Hennessy-Fiske and Adam Schreck in Blacksburg, Va., and Times researcher Lianne Hart in Houston contributed to this report.