This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2007, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.
Choking on her blood on the floor of Cabin Fever, Carolyn Tuft inched toward Kirsten, her mortally wounded daughter, to tell her that she loved her. Their faces close, she took her hand.
Mother and daughter had been in the store for just a few minutes, not even at the Valentine's Day cards yet, when Tuft heard a "pop." They were laughing and browsing, and at first Tuft paid little attention. As the danger became apparent, she couldn't know if it was safer where they were or out in the hall. She walked over to the window to see what was going on.
That's when she saw a flash, heard a bang and felt glass from a shattered window rip into her arm.
Kirsten Hinckley, 15, told her mother to get down. They crouched, and Sulejman Talovic came into the shop at Trolley Square. Tuft lifted her eyes. Talovic stared straight at her and shot her in the right arm and lung.
He left, then inexplicably returned. He raised his shotgun again, and this time Tuft could feel the muzzle on her back as he fired.
Tuft remembers that sometime after the second shots at Cabin Fever, someone took Kirsten's cell phone out of her pocket and handed it to Tuft. Tuft considers that person to be her angel.
"I thought Kirsten and I were going to leave together," she said. "I felt like I had only a few minutes at most."
She tried to call her other children, but she couldn't dial properly. All she heard was, "The number you have called . . . ''
Tuft finally reached her ex-husband, Stephen Hinckley, and told him what had happened. She wanted him to get their kids and make sure everyone was OK.
Scott Hinckley, 20, who had been in class at the University of Utah, sprinted across a golf course in the dark and scrambled over a fence, hoping to find his mom at University Hospital, only to realize she had been taken to LDS Hospital. He would be the one to break the news to his sister, Kaitlin, 18, who would have been at Trolley Square that night had she not been called into work.
All four of them had been there just the day before, hoping to drop into Cabin Fever before they watched "Unaccompanied Minors" at a nearby movie theater. Scott had worked on the film.
But it was closing time at Trolley Square, and they were told to come back. The next day, Feb. 12, Talovic would kill five people, wound four and die at the hands of a police SWAT team.
'I refuse to harbor anger'
At 44, Tuft is the kind of mom who is as much a friend as a parent. She loves to go sledding at midnight and to get off a cruise ship at some Caribbean island and explore for miles. In October, the family discovered a huge, sun-bleached conch shell on a remote St. Thomas beach. She'll never forget the spot where they found their treasure.
To the right of her blue hospital bed is a picture of her and her two teenage daughters from that cruise. Blond and beautiful, they could be taken for sisters.
Tuft's goal is to get the most out of every day and to see her kids celebrate their own lives, to get an education and see the world.
"Everyone thinks they can put things off, they'll have more time," she said. "Don't think someday you'll get there. You might not."
She is angry that people do the kind of thing that happened at Trolley Square. But she will not waste her energy.
"I refuse to harbor anger," she said. "That's the exact opposite of the life I want to reflect."
Nothing will ever fill the void her daughter leaves. The family will carry Kirsten with them, always on the lookout for something silly to do just for her.
Just a few days before the shootings, Tuft had stayed up with her daughters, other family and friends until 4 a.m. making Valentine's Day sugar cookies. What began as a baking party turned into a flour fight.
Of all the children, Kirsten was most like her mother. Like her, she baked, and she adored cats. When she was little, she dressed up her cats and tucked them into cradles.
"They were her babies," Tuft recalled.
Once, a stray cat left a litter of kittens on the family's doorstep. Everyone took turns bottle-feeding them every three hours, all through the night. The kittens followed them around like ducklings, safe with a family that tackled the world as a team.
Yet Kirsten stood out in a particular way.
"She was the only one of us with long-term plans [at such a young age]," Scott Hinckley said.
The girl dreamed of studying architecture at a school called The Bartlett, in London, a city that had captivated her on a past trip. At home, she stuck motivational notes around her room reminding her about what she needed to do to reach her goal. In the last few days before she died, Kirsten talked about wanting to visit Fallingwater, the elegant Frank Lloyd Wright house in Pennsylvania.
One day, the family will visit Bartlett, their beloved's unrealized dream. Scott wants to leave flowers on its steps.
'She'd want us to be happy'
For now, though, it's time to heal. Tuft's right arm is numb, and her muscles are atrophying. To begin regaining her strength, she practiced simple rehabilitation exercises Saturday, moving a cup from one stack to another. Scott massaged her hand to keep it from getting stiff.
If all goes well, she may go home this week. She'll have a hospital bed at home, and she'll need her family's constant care. Without insurance, her medical bills will only grow.
Tuft is resolute: She'll pick up a brush and paint again. She doesn't plan to go back to her housecleaning work, leaving future employment a question mark.
But she's a survivor. Five years ago, she was loading her minivan when a drunken driver plowed into the car, tossing her into the air. Scott rode in the ambulance with his mom and said goodbye. She still carries plates and screws beneath the skin of her face.
After Trolley Square, she said Saturday, "I shouldn't be alive, because there are pellets all around my vital organs."
That may be true, Scott said. But he believes it would be self-destructive to dwell on the what-ifs.
"I have cried, and I will cry," Tuft said.
"For forever," Scott added.
"But it's not going to get us anywhere," Tuft said. For one thing, they need to feed Kirsten's cats. "She'd want us to be happy, to use this experience to help other people."
That's already happening. Hundreds of people, from as far as New Zealand and France, have been touched by what happened at Trolley Square and have been moved to write to Tuft. One of the messages hangs on the wall next to her bed. It reads: "You made a difference for good in the world."
* Zions Bank has established two accounts, one in injured mother Carolyn Tuft's name and the other in the name of her 15-year-old daughter, Kirsten Hinckley, a Brighton High sophomore who died. Donations can be made at any Utah branch.