I never thought this could happen here.

The possibility of trag-edy became a frightening reality last week when Liberty High School went into lockdown. It was 12:40 p.m. and nearing the end of the third block of the day. Everything leading up until that moment had made the day just like any other.

Eighth grade students from Broughal Middle School as well as young kids from a Big Brothers Big Sisters program had been at the school but had left. Parents were arriving at the school to celebrate students who were signing to play for colleges.

Then the calm, but directed, voice of Principal Harrison Bailey came across the loudspeaker.

"At this time, teachers, we will be going into lockdown."

As we went through standard procedure by moving away from the door to the classroom, our minds were initially at ease. Some students had been informed of a previously scheduled drill for the morning of April 17. But questions began to race through our minds.

Why was this happening so close to a change of class, especially when a couple of hundred kids were still in lunch? Why didn't the teachers know anything about it being moved? Right before it was announced, why had a kid come running back to class saying one of the assistant principals and armed officers stopped him in the hallway and told him to get to class?

The tone of the classroom changed and calculus was entirely gone from our attention as we gasped at the assortment of police vehicles racing across the soccer field from downtown. And when officers wielding firearms comparable in length to the height of an elementary school child ran toward the school, one person said what we all already knew: This was not just a drill.

We watched as a SWAT team assembled and stormed into the athletic lobby entrance by the cafeteria. At this point I became more than concerned, knowing my twin sister was supposed to be in the lunchroom and then watching a small army of police officers move into the same part of the school she should've been in.

Others became scared by stories spread on social media and information shared by local news agencies. Some said there were three gunmen, and others said only one. What was apparent was no student anywhere had actually seen anything; my sister had told me they had all been safely moved into the memorial gymnasium.

The focus of the police search, however, had shifted to one room in the Klein Classroom Center where a student had mistakenly communicated something that led one of his/her parents (and ultimately the police) to think there was a gun in a specific classroom.

As the SWAT team opened the door, students were commanded to lie face down on the ground with their hands on top of their heads. As the team surrounded the room, the teacher was escorted out and the students one by one. As people were searched and bags checked, officers must have been relieved. No weapon was found, and the only tip they had to go on, which prompted the lockdown, was a phone call from a prepaid cell phone stating there might be a person with a gun in the school.

For the remainder of the lockdown, which lasted until 4:30 p.m., officers traveled to each room in the school. Students were patted down and their bags searched. Officers must have been doubtful there was still a threat in the school because they allowed us to sit back down in our seats after they left. Many were left waiting a couple of hours after their area had been secured. There was unease in our class, but it quickly became boredom with time.

Our broken clock in the classroom led us to humor, "Wow. It seems like time really stopped," or "Oh wow. It's 10:30, at this rate we might be here at 10:30!" Students were glad to stay, in retrospect, knowing the long wait assured their safety.

Liberty has almost returned to normal. There is a heightened sense of security, but students aren't worried. We have comfort in how our administration, as well as our city's police force, handled the situation with such preparedness. The crowd of parents outside Liberty best exemplified the emotion of the day with cheering and crying as students were released and came out the main doors.

Josh Ledyard

LHS student reporter

for The Press