The weekly cornhole tournament drew a reliable group of friends, members of Maine’s small deaf community.
The nine-member team included Joshua Seal, an interpreter; Steve Vozzella, a mischievous prankster; Billy Brackett, a sports fan; and Bryan MacFarlane, a devoted dog dad.
They were at Schemengees Bar and Grille on Wednesday when a shooter entered the Lewiston bar. The teammates were among the 18 people killed in the country’s deadliest mass killing this year.
Their deaths have shaken a tightknit deaf community, sending ripples of grief across the country, but have been particularly hard-hitting in Maine, where many deaf people went to school together. “In Maine, the deaf community is particularly intimate because of how sparsely populated the state is,” said Amy Richardson, who was friends with two of the victims.
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“We are grieving,” she signed, using two hands moving in opposite directions on her chest, as if she was twisting her heart in half. “We are at a loss for words.”
The gunman, Robert Card, was found dead late Friday, believed to have died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. But while he was still at large, the community was not able to gather in person, which was especially difficult since deaf people value face-to-face interactions, Richardson said. “In deaf culture, it’s really important to meet in person and to give each other hugs,” she said.
Instead, roughly 150 community members gathered on Zoom on Thursday night to share their memories and stories about the victims.
“This tragedy has really pulled us together,” she added, noting friends are cooking and fundraising for the families of those killed. Some are flying in from out of state to offer support.
Seal, 36, was a certified deaf interpreter and director of a nonprofit interpreting agency who became a fixture of government briefings during the pandemic. He was “having success in his career and had a beautiful family. He was thriving,” said Lenore Viccari-Boerner, 59, whose daughter worked with Seal. “He was a good example to others in the deaf community.”
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In recent years, he started a camp for young deaf people to connect with others like themselves. “He understood what it was like to be the only deaf kid in your school and he wanted to create a place where deaf youth could gather and meet,” Richardson said.
When news of the shooting began to spread, Clayton Marr, a longtime friend, texted Seal to tell him to be safe. Marr grew concerned when Seal didn’t respond and spent the night tossing and turning before finding out Thursday that Seal had died.
“I’ve never felt so much pain before,” Marr said.
He and Seal grew up together and enjoyed playing disc golf as adults. Seal had infectious positive energy. “He made me a better person,” Marr said.
Vozzella, 45, was known as a mischievous prankster who enjoyed snowmobiling and being outdoors. He had two children and got married last November.
Share this articleShareBrackett, 48, an involved father to his young daughter, was a “silent giant,” said Richardson. He also really loved sports, especially the Boston Red Sox and the Ohio State University football team, said Art Moore, 59, of Canton, Conn., who had gotten to know Brackett at deaf events over the years.
MacFarlane, was always ready to help others, whether it meant helping a friend move or mowing his neighbors’ lawns, said his sister, Keri Brooks, 44, who lives in the Tampa Bay area of Florida. They loved attending hockey games together and MacFarlane also enjoyed fishing, boating and caring for his beloved Shih Tzu, whom he named M&M after his favorite candy. “He brought his dog with him in his truck everywhere he went,” Brooks said.
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She was on vacation in Iceland when she heard from her best friend that her brother had been killed.
But, Brooks said, she saw a lot of familiar faces from around the country on Thursday’s vigil Zoom call, and has heard from friends of her brother’s in Ohio, Vermont and Maine.
“We’re a strong community so it helps to know that we have that support,” she said.
“In the history of mass shootings, there’s never been so many deaf people dead, so this is really hitting the deaf community hard,” said Brooks. “It’s hitting home. Deaf people have to be more involved and push for change in laws around guns.”
In addition to the four who were killed, two other members of the deaf cornhole team were injured, but survived and have been released from the hospital, according to Richardson and other friends.
National Deaf Therapy, a deaf-run organization that offers virtual therapy services for the deaf and signing community, says it will offer free services to those affected by the shooting. It’s likely that many deaf people across the country either personally knows someone who was in the shooting or has a connection to someone who does.
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“When a deaf person in the community is hurting, everyone feels the pain. When one person is affected, it ripples through all of us,” said Megan Erasmus, chief executive of National Deaf Therapy.
Some deaf advocates have complained that it has been difficult to keep track of the news of the shooting. There was already a shortage of interpreters in Maine, especially those comfortable working in the fast, high-pressured environment of a live TV broadcast, said Stacey Bsullak, 51, a local interpreter.
Even when interpreters have been available during news briefings, they are not always visible on screen, frustrating some advocates.
“The deaf community has been impacted and they are still cutting off the interpreter,” Bsullak said. “The nation is watching and it’s not accessible.”
At a news conference Friday, Maine Department of Public Safety Commissioner Mike Sauschuck acknowledged the need for better communication: “For the consideration of the four deaf victims and their families, we are requesting that the ASL interpreter is in all frames for language access here in Maine and the U.S.”
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