State troopers stand near the First Baptist Church in Sutherland Springs. (Carolyn Van Houten/The Washington Post)

The rumble of TV satellite news trucks and crowing of roosters were the only sounds to break the heavy stillness as I pulled into Sutherland Springs before dawn on Nov. 6. This town of about 600, though new to me, felt familiar. Houses worn from the harsh South Texas sun; stray dogs lounging in the road; a single blinking traffic light. But at the corner of Highway 87 and Farm To Market Road 539, yellow police tape surrounded the perimeter of the short-steepled First Baptist Church. A black trailer, marked by a huge FBI seal, was parked out front.

Residents, who less than 24 hours earlier had become the latest victims of a mass shooting, seemed to be in hiding. Well-dressed journalists knocked on doors while officials patrolled the streets. By nightfall, churches from nearby San Antonio organized a vigil on the local baseball field, which would later serve as the grounds for the town’s first church service after the shooting, drawing hundreds from across the country. One resident, Terrie Smith, who runs the kitchen in the S.S. Express Valero gas station, started cooking furiously to feed the influx of journalists — a welcome distraction from the immense sadness looming overhead. Yet, not until Thursday, after most out-of-town media had departed, did the locals start to emerge from their homes and the town seem to breathe again.

Read the original source