Sunday, December 9, 2007. Colorado Springs, CO.
Matthew Murray was mad with his former Christian youth group. Although he had a falling out with the group a few years ago, he thought he could count on them in the time of need. He thought, surely, god would open his house for him to stay for the night. He would have frozen to death in the frigid Colorado winter, especially with the record snowfall throughout the nation.
When two young staffers from the youth group confronted Murray and denied him shelter, he squeezed the trigger on his gun. Seeing the two ascend to heaven in a puff of pink, Murray squeezed off a few more shots at the other staff members.
Panicked and delusional, Murray runs through the snow – miraculously, without getting bogged down, across a field of deep snow. It was almost like he was flying. Somehow, he finds a car, and drives as the steering wheel guides him.
70 miles later, Murray’s car is out of gas. Murray finds a church parking lot where he’ll jack a running car from some poor guy. In an attempt to do so, he sends a couple more people on their way to God, but instead of taking the car, his feet move toward the building.
Waiting for him, unbeknownst even to her, is Jeanne Assam, a security guard. Assam had been fasting and felt a little bit light headed. The lack of food and oxygen was causing cyanosis and made her hands shake after running to take cover after hearing the shots. Murray, hungry, tired, and cold walked into the church.
As the fatigued and almost ethereal figure of Murray walked into the the hall, Assam’s hand stopped shaking. She stands up, shouts at the man to stop, but Murray looks at her as if nothing is there. God now had control. Silent splashes erupt in Murray’s torso, the burning smell of powder stings Assams face, it is over.