The Day Peace Shattered: The West Nickel Mines Amish School Shooting and Its Haunting Legacy

On October 2, 2006, the quiet farmlands of Bart Township, Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, bore witness to an act of unimaginable horror. The West Nickel Mines Amish School a place symbolizing peace and simplicity became the site of one of the most shocking school shootings in American history.

I was living in Lancaster City when the shooting happened. I remember feeling utterly shocked that something so violent could happen in the Amish community a community many of us viewed as untouched by the chaos of the outside world. It was a harsh reminder that no place is truly immune to violence.

A Sinister Plan Unfolds

That October morning started like any other at the one-room West Nickel Mines Amish School. But around 10:00 a.m., Charles Carl Roberts IV, a 32-year-old milk truck driver known to some of the children from his delivery route, entered the school under the pretense of looking for a missing clevis pin a harmless enough question. But it was all a façade.

Roberts soon returned with a 9mm handgun and forced the male students to help him carry a disturbing array of items from his truck: guns, knives, restraints, lumber, a stun gun, wires, chains, nails, tools, a change of clothes, toilet paper, candles, and plastic ties. The sheer amount of supplies hinted at a premeditated plan for a prolonged and horrific ordeal.

During the chaos, teacher Emma Mae Zook and her visiting mother managed to escape, running to a nearby farm to call for help. Roberts, seeing them flee, threatened to shoot everyone if they got away. He then ordered all 15 male students, a pregnant woman, and three other adults with infants to leave the schoolhouse, leaving behind only ten young girls.

He barricaded the door with wooden boards and forced the girls, aged six to thirteen, to line up facing the blackboard, binding their legs with wire and plastic ties. In an astonishing act of courage, two sisters Marian (13) and Barbara Fisher (11) pleaded with Roberts to shoot them first, hoping to spare the other girls. Their bravery bought a few precious moments, but not enough.

At 10:35 a.m., police received the first 911 call. At 10:55 a.m., Roberts himself called 911, warning he would start shooting if state troopers didn’t leave. Minutes later, at approximately 11:07 a.m., he began firing upon the girls. As troopers approached the building, the gunfire abruptly stopped Roberts had turned the gun on himself, ending the siege.

Dark Confessions and Disturbing Discoveries

During the standoff, Roberts made a shocking confession to his wife over the phone. He admitted that roughly 20 years earlier, when he was around eleven or twelve, he had molested two young female relatives, aged three to five. He also revealed that he was struggling with fantasies of molesting children again.

However, those relatives later told police that no such abuse had ever occurred. But the physical evidence found in Roberts’ possession suggested far darker intentions. Investigators discovered flexible plastic ties, eyebolts, a wooden board fitted with ten eyehooks, and a container of lubricating jelly (K-Y Jelly) among his belongings. Pennsylvania State Police Commissioner Jeffrey Miller stated it was “very possible that he intended to victimize these children in many ways prior to executing them.” 

There is NO DOUBT in my mind Charles was going to rape those girls!! You just don't bring bottles of K-Y Jelly and don't intend to use them!

Roberts reportedly told the girls he was sorry for what he was doing, but explained that he was “angry at God and I need to punish some Christian girls to get even with him.”

Wow. Punish God by hurting some good Christian girls.

That notion is utterly chilling. And as for the family members who say the prior molestation didn’t happen part of me can’t help but feel they might just be trying to save face.

The Victims and Their Long Road

Roberts’ rampage left devastation in its wake. All ten girls were shot, sustaining injuries ranging from critical to fatal. Emergency responders arriving at the scene found the girls dressed nearly identically in traditional Amish clothing, making triage extremely challenging.

Six young girls lost their lives:

• Naomi Rose Ebersol, 7 – died at the scene
• Marian Stoltzfus Fisher, 13 – died at the scene; one of the sisters who pleaded to be shot first
• Anna Mae Stoltzfus, 12 – died en route to Lancaster General Hospital
• Lena Zook Miller, 7 – died at Hershey Medical Center on October 3
• Mary Liz Miller, 9 – died at Christiana Hospital on October 3
• Rosanna King, 6 – held on for nearly 18 years before succumbing to her injuries on September 3, 2024, at age 23, after living with severe brain injuries that left her unable to walk, talk, or feed herself

Three girls were shot execution-style in the back of the head. One died in the arms of a state trooper. The scene inside the schoolhouse was described as a sea of blood, with overturned desks, shattered glass, and bullet holes riddling the walls.

Four girls survived with serious injuries: Rachel Ann Stoltzfus (8), Barbara Fisher (11), Sarah Ann Stoltzfus (12), and Esther King (13). Although they made significant progress and most returned to school, their lives were forever changed. For example, Sarah Ann Stoltzfus, who initially wasn’t expected to survive, did return to school but suffered permanent vision loss.

The delayed death of Rosanna King is a heartbreaking reminder that the repercussions of a mass shooting can stretch across decades. For many families, the tragedy never truly ends.

Forgiveness Beyond Comprehension

If there’s one aspect of this tragedy that continues to astonish people around the world, it’s the response of the Amish community.

Within hours of the shooting, an Amish grandfather was heard telling younger family members not to hate the killer. Another father reflected, “He had a mother and a wife and a soul, and now he’s standing before a just God.”

Their forgiveness went far beyond words. Amish neighbors visited the Roberts family the same day of the shooting to offer comfort and absolution. One Amish man reportedly held Roberts’ sobbing father in his arms for nearly an hour. Roughly thirty members of the Amish community, including some parents of the victims, attended Roberts’ funeral, forming a human wall to protect his family from media cameras.

The Amish even set up a charitable fund to support Roberts’ family financially. Marie Roberts, the killer’s widow, was one of the few outsiders invited to a victim’s funeral. She later wrote an open letter expressing profound gratitude for the Amish community’s “forgiveness, grace, and mercy.” Roberts’ mother, Terri, maintained an extraordinary relationship with the Nickel Mines families, even visiting weekly to help care for Rosanna King.

The forgiveness from the surviving family members is beyond words. I don’t think I could.

Many of us can’t imagine finding that level of compassion in the wake of such horror. Yet the Amish community’s faith and resilience offered a powerful testament to the possibility of healing even in the darkest moments.

A Nation Grapples with Violence

The West Nickel Mines tragedy did not happen in isolation. Between 2005 and 2006, the United States experienced a string of tragic school shootings that underscored how even young students could commit acts of devastating violence:

• In 2005, 16-year-old Jeffrey Weise killed nine people including himself at Red Lake High School in Minnesota, after murdering his grandfather.
• Later that year in Tennessee, 14-year-old Kenneth Bartley shot three administrators at Campbell County High School, killing one.
• In 2006, Christopher Williams shot two people at Essex Elementary in Vermont, though his murders occurred partly off campus.
• In Colorado, Duane Morrison took hostages at Platte Canyon High School, killing one student before dying by suicide.
• Two days later, a Wisconsin student shot and killed his principal at Weston High.
• And of course, in 2006, Charles Carl Roberts IV stormed the Amish schoolhouse in Nickel Mines, Pennsylvania, killing five girls and wounding five more before ending his own life.

Between 2000 and 2010, the United States witnessed a surge of school shootings that rattled the nation’s sense of safety to its core. The decade began in the shadow of Columbine, with people still struggling to comprehend how teenagers could orchestrate such carnage. And the tragedies kept coming: Red Lake, Nickel Mines, Virginia Tech. In 2007, the Virginia Tech massacre claimed 32 lives, becoming the deadliest school shooting in U.S. history.

Beyond the headline-making horrors were countless other incidents students bringing guns to class, shots fired in hallways, teachers dying at the hands of troubled teens that fueled a steady, simmering fear across communities.

These shootings didn’t just scar the victims and survivors they shook the entire country’s trust in what should have been sacred, safe places. Parents worried every morning if their kids would come home from school. Schools scrambled to install metal detectors, conduct lockdown drills, and draft “active shooter” plans that became as routine as fire drills. The news felt trapped in a vicious cycle of gunfire, grief, and debate, leaving Americans anxious, angry, and desperate for answers.

By 2010, the notion that “it could never happen here” was gone and the nation knew all too well that school shootings were no longer unimaginable, but a terrifying reality.

A Symbol of Renewal

Just ten days after the Nickel Mines shooting, the original schoolhouse was torn down. It wasn’t an attempt to erase history it was a symbolic rejection of the evil that had taken place there.

At a nearby location, the Amish community built a new one-room schoolhouse, opening on March 26, 2007 exactly six months after the massacre. They named it New Hope School. The new building included updated security features like stronger locks and a private drive, balancing lessons learned with the Amish commitment to simplicity.

A modest, living memorial stands where the old school once was: five trees planted to honor the victims. In keeping with Amish traditions, there’s no grand monument just simple reminders of life continuing amid sorrow.

The Enduring Legacy

The West Nickel Mines Amish School shooting remains one of the most haunting chapters in American history. It’s a story of unspeakable violence and of unimaginable grace.

The Amish community’s immediate and profound forgiveness, their quiet acts of compassion, and their decision to rebuild rather than remain defined by violence offer an extraordinary lesson in resilience and faith.

While peace was shattered on that October day, the spirit of forgiveness and the determination to carry on endure. And for the rest of us, the memory of Nickel Mines remains both a wound and a powerful reminder of humanity’s capacity for grace in the face of darkness.