Editor's Note: Brendan Moore is a staff writer for Spartans Illustrated. This is his first-hand account of the mass shooting on the campus of Michigan State University on Feb. 13, 2023. This article was originally published on 2/15/23.

It was a normal Monday morning. I rolled out of my lofted bed at 8:30 a.m. and departed for my class at Wonders Hall. I put my AirPods in my ears as I jammed out to some Elton John, Coldplay and Eminem, among others, on my morning stroll.

At the time, I was worried about what seemed like important things at the time. Who was going to be in my group for the class project? What was the topic? How was I going to get up this flight of stairs after leg day? Was I going to Brody or Case dining hall for breakfast after class? It was stuff that a normal college student should worry about on a Monday morning.

Not to mention, the sun was shining and campus vibes were better than normal. Everyone was debating the holding call from the fourth quarter of the Super Bowl or talking about Rihanna’s halftime performance.

Those vibes were echoed by Michigan State men’s basketball head coach Tom Izzo at his press conference early Monday afternoon. He was in a cheerful mood. It seemed like nothing could dampen his smile.

In terms of class schedule, Mondays are one of my longer days; I have a morning class and an evening class. I didn’t get back to my dorm in the Brody neighborhood from my evening class until 7:45 p.m. I was starving and all I could think about was food. I had a decent dining hall feast: shrimp, pasta and mint chocolate chip ice cream for dessert. I left the Brody dining hall at 8:25 p.m.

As I was heading back to my room for the night, I was thinking about how I needed to get to bed early so I could wake up and hit the gym before class. I was somewhat startled by the sirens and multiple police cars that raced across Michigan Avenue in the distance. However, I didn’t think much of it. Living in a densely populated area, you get used to hearing sirens.

I got back to my room around 8:30 p.m. to two of my best friends -- one is my roommate and the other my floormate -- watching TV like any other night. I went to the community bathroom down the hallway. That's when I received an emergency alert at 8:34 p.m. I walked back to my room, non-chalantly, thinking this was probably someone being an idiot and shooting a firearm in the air for whatever reason.

I texted my parents at 8:39 p.m. explaining the situation. My phone was flooding with snapchat notifications from various group chats speculating on what the situation could be. I received a second emergency alert at 8:41 p.m. repeating the “Run. Hide. Fight.” message from the previous alert just a mere seven minutes before.

At that point, we started listening to the police scanner broadcast at a quiet but still hearable volume. I heard so many rumors. I didn’t know who or what to believe. All I knew was that it was bad. We shut the lights off, locked the door, closed the blinds and windows, turned the fan off, and barricaded the door with ottomans, chairs, garbage cans and anything else we could find. My roommate dismounted an autographed Lansing Lugnuts bat from my bed frame. I grabbed a pair of scissors from my desk. The scissors were more for fidgeting, due to the anxiousness of the situation, than protection.

We had a whole entire plan of attack if the worst was to happen. We all had our shoes on, cell phones charged, wallets in our pockets -- and I had my car keys on me just in case.

I’m not a super religious guy, but I was praying for the safety of my friends and the rest of my community in between the text messages asking if I was safe. I tried to text my parents every now and again to inform them I was still fine.

My heart was skipping beats every time the police scanner reported something that occurred at or near a place where I personally knew somebody was at. In the back of my head, I knew that not everything the police scanner broadcast stated would turn out to be accurate, but it was still nerve-racking to think about the possibility of someone you know personally getting harmed at such a young age.

It was 10:07 p.m. when another emergency alert hit my notifications. It was just under two hours since the first shots. It gave a rough description of the suspect: “short male with mask, possibly black male.”

Every noise I heard, whether it was someone dropping their phone or a police car zooming by along Harrison Road, gave me a short sense of panic inside.

It was later that hour when we heard the stuttered rattling sound of what we assumed to be a police helicopter above. That was accompanied by an occasional bright white light from the chopper that shone through the blinds of our dorm room window.

While you never want a police helicopter to be flying above your place of residence, this actually felt like a sense of security in a sea of panic. The moment I first heard the helicopter circling the campus, I was confident in the first responders' ability to extinguish the danger.

At 11:18 p.m., three hours after the first gun shot, photos and a clear description of the suspect were revealed. I slightly grinned. I had a good feeling that there was light at the end of the tunnel. I had a good feeling that we were almost across the finish line.

Around this time, we also started to hear authorities roaming the corridors of my residence hall. It was a massive sigh of relief.

From what I recall, it was around midnight when the police scanner reported that the suspect was found deceased a few miles from campus. Part of me was confused how he got there because there was a ton of misleading information being shared on social media. We still stayed in lockdown just to be safe. I wanted to go for a walk, use the bathroom, and go see my friends, but we needed to be sure.

It was 12:28 a.m. -- four hours and 10 minutes after the first shots were fired -- when the suspect was located off campus, dead from a gunshot wound. The shelter in place order was lifted.

I stood up from the chair I was sitting in for four hours straight not knowing what to think. It was odd. My mind was clear. I wasn’t worried about the group project, going to the gym in the morning or dissecting what Izzo said about his team. My mind was a blank canvas for a little bit.

I walked to the bathroom stunned and still processing what happened. I got back to my room, but I didn’t feel safe. I was nervous to go to my car, which was parked right outside my room. Not to discount what a phenomenal job the authorities did, but I thought there was something missing.

We flipped on the news. Like many others, I was gutted to see many great buildings on this beautiful campus being lined with police tape. I go to the MSU Union often. I’ve eaten in that food court numerous times. I have an abundance of friends who have classes at Berkey Hall. This campus has been home to me for almost two years and to see it in disarray was heartbreaking.

I got enough courage to go outside at about 1 a.m. There were concerned parents hugging their kids. It was a heartwarming feeling seeing loved ones reunited, but it was also heartbreaking that they had to reunite in that very moment.

At about 1:30 a.m., I got with friends that lived close by. Emotions were all over the place. We hugged, we smiled and some of us cried. We were so happy to see each other, but wanted to control the happiness due to the unfortunate and senseless circumstances.

After 45 minutes or so of settling down and debriefing the situation with my friends, I packed my bags and headed home. I needed some time away. It was the right thing to do. I didn’t want to wait for the sun to come up. I just wanted to see my parents and be in the comfort of my home.

After the initial rush of parents picking up their kids, it was quiet. I departed East Lansing a changed man at 2:30 a.m.

I am thankful that all of my friends and everyone I know on campus is now safe, but my heart is still not full. We lost three members of our Spartan family on Monday night -- Brian Fraser, Arielle Anderson and Alexandria Verner -- and five more who remain injured and hospitalized. Nobody in the MSU community (alumni, faculty, students, family, friends, etc.) will ever forget the date Feb. 13, 2023.

I am thankful for all the first responders and their quick actions. Without them who knows how bad this would have been.

I am thankful for the workers at Sparrow Hospital in Lansing as they continue to nurse the injured. The amount of medical staff volunteers that came to the hospital to help was inspiring. It was a shining moment under a cloud of disaster.

News headlines will come and go. People will offer their thoughts and prayers. While that is appreciated, nothing can ever erase the sickening feeling of college students fearing for their lives. Remember the stories of these students. I am simply one of many thousands of people that have their own story.

I ended my day how it began, listening to music. As I pulled into my driveway at 4:15 a.m., the song that was playing through my speakers was very apropos: "Don’t Stop Believin’" by Journey.