A warning: this story contains descriptions of violence that may not be suitable for everyone.

[tense marimba music]

SUSAN SHARON, HOST: It’s a Wednesday night and I’m driving back from an assignment in western Maine when two police cars go screaming past me. I’m just a few minutes from my house when my husband calls. He says he’s just gotten an alert on his phone: active shooter in Lewiston.

Before I can absorb what he’s saying I get an alert telling me to shelter in place.

We both work in Lewiston and live just across the Androscoggin River in Auburn. Locals call these the Twin Cities, or the other LA, the smaller, less glamorous version, about as far from Hollywood as you can get. We’re about 45 minutes north of Portland. We’re not on the coast, not deep in the woods. These are former mill towns built by French Canadians and other immigrants who came to work in shoe factories and textile mills more than 100 years ago. Around here, it’s not uncommon for people to work more than one job. They take their kids to football and cheerleading practice and meet up for burgers and beers, the occasional cornhole game.

PANICKED VOICE ON POLICE RADIO, GARBLED: “Got multiple victims, multiple victims! I need every unit you can find!”

[muffled scanner sounds]

HOST: Scanner traffic and police reports on social media say the shooter has hit two places: a bowling alley and a bar. They’re about four miles apart. I know the bowling alley. Everyone does. It’s where we took our kids to birthday parties when they were little and one of the few places in town families can hang out. I tell my husband I’m heading there and I’m not sure when I’ll be back. He tells me to please be careful.

[marimba and string music surges]

HOST: Outside the bowling alley, police cars are everywhere. The road is blocked off. I get out in a nearby parking lot and watch as a sheriff’s deputy directs a group of people into a building. Then he sees me. “Leave immediately!” he yells. “There’s been a mass shooting. No one is safe out here.”

[tense string and marimba music fades]

“Mass shooting.” Let those two words sink in. We hear them so often — about a concert in Las Vegas, a nightclub in Colorado Springs, an elementary school in Uvalde, Texas, a Walmart in El Paso and on and on in far flung cities and towns. It’s often said that Americans are becoming indifferent to gun violence, and that it’s just a matter of time before it happens where you live. There were 656 mass shootings in the U.S in 2023. And the one in Lewiston, in my backyard, would be the year’s deadliest.

MAINE GOV. JANET MILLS, PRESS CONFERENCE: “I am profoundly saddened to stand before you today to report that 18 people lost their lives and 13 people injured in last night’s attacks.”

[soft, mournful music]

HOST: We now know that the attacks were carried out by a part-time soldier in the Army Reserve, a man who bowled and played cornhole with some of the victims. For months, he was unraveling. He believed people were mocking him and posting insults about him online.

He was delusional. He was making threats. He owned lots of guns. And members of law enforcement and the Army Reserve were well aware. They were concerned enough to protect themselves but stopped short of confronting him before it was too late.

LEROY WALKER, INTERVIEW: “I still get up every morning and go to bed every night thinking of my son and trying to figure out why would anything like this happen.”

HOST: When a mass shooting happens — there’s a flood of attention. Reporters show up and then, eventually most leave or move on. Our newsroom at Maine Public Radio has covered every development of this story.

We’ve spent months combing through documents, listening to testimony and interviewing dozens of people. But we’ve also reported on the milestones and setbacks as the community tries to recover.

[woodwind music surges]

REV. ALLEN AUSTIN, VIGIL: “Please, Lewiston, do not lose hope.”

HOST: For the victims, their loved ones and everyone affected by this tragedy, the ability to heal means understanding what happened. Over six episodes, you’ll hear from several of us — each with a different part of the story about what went wrong and why. How Maine’s hunting tradition makes guns central to its politics. And the aftermath for shooting victims, some of whom were deaf and hard of hearing. But this is also a story about the possibility for change — how the lessons of Lewiston might help make us safer. Because unless we are truly indifferent, we have to try.

BOBBI NICHOLS, INTERVIEW: “It feels like it was yesterday. It really does. It’s still so real and so vivid.”

JAMES HERLING, COMMISSION: “My brother-in-law was not this man. His brain was hijacked.”

CARA LAMB, INTERVIEW: “None of us should be allowed to say that we did enough in this scenario, in this situation.”

DAVID TRAHAN, INTERVIEW: “When you try to depict all firearms as evil, as killing, you’re missing the boat here.”

SEAN HODGSON, INTERVIEW: “To this day, I can’t believe he is dead. I can’t believe all these people are dead.”

HOST: From Maine Public Radio, the Portland Press Herald and Frontline PBS, this is Breakdown. I’m Susan Sharon. “Episode 1: Did we really survive this?”

[piano music fades down]

HOST: Tricia Asselin is a go-getter who works three jobs including Just-In-Time Recreation where she organizes bowling tournaments. October 25th is her day off and she calls her sister, Bobbi Nichols to see if she wants to go bowling.

BOBBI NICHOLS: And she called me up and said, you know, ‘Would you like to sub sometime?’ I’m like, ‘Yeah.’ So, like 20 minutes later she calls back and she said, ‘Can you sub tonight?’ I’m like, ‘Of course. I’ll be there.’ So she goes, ‘I’ll meet you there at six.’

HOST: Bobbi arrives at the bowling alley first. She’s out of practice since she hasn’t bowled in years but is excited to join the league that night. Her social butterfly sister, Tricia, quickly introduces her to other players on the teams.

BOBBI NICHOLS: And she introduced me to everybody, and my sister’s a hugger. So I was hugging all these people. And I felt a little bit better because I didn’t know too many of them. So I ended up being on a team that was — I was on a team that was — the first lane was my team.

HOST: There are more than 60 people in the bowling alley, including 20 children. There is a youth bowling league that night.

BOBBI NICHOLS: And at 6:30 they started playing the music and we started bowling and all that and everything was going pretty well.

HOST: After she’s taken her turn, Bobbi heads to the middle of the bowling alley to see how her sister’s team is doing.

BOBBI NICHOLS: And then all of a sudden I heard this noise.

[ambient guitar music]

NICHOLS: And it was so loud. It was like, it felt like this big glass chandelier had broke. And I was like, what was that? I’m thinking to myself … And I look out of the corner of my eye and I see a gun.

HOST: At that moment she sees a man near her get shot in the head.

BOBBI NICHOLS: I was not even consuming it. I was like, gun, that, frozen. I was completely frozen. And all of a sudden, boom … somebody yells, ‘He’s got a gun!’

And then people were running so I ended up on the floor.  Immediately, I was trampled.  And um I’m thinking, I gotta get out of here, I gotta get out of here and I don’t know where to go. And I think it was probably three times I was trampled before I got out. And I kept thinking that he was behind. I couldn’t look back. And he’s still shooting. He’s still shooting.

HOST: Bruised and bleeding from being knocked down, Bobbi scrambles across several lanes to a back door and gets outside.

BOBBI NICHOLS: It was dark. It was dark, there was no streetlights out there because you’re going outside the back of the building. And I’m running with my bowling shoes on.

HOST: She runs toward a fence with six or seven other people.

BOBBI NICHOLS: We’re not talking. We’re like, shhhh, because we don’t know where he is so we’re hiding behind trees. I’m just trembling and crying … And we’re all like, I can’t believe this. This guy’s crazy. I don’t know. And I’m crying and I’m like, I want my sister out of there. I want her out of that building. I want her out.

HOST: Bobbi and Tricia have always been close even though they are four years apart. Growing up, the family had a small farm. Both sisters were tomboys who shared a room. But Bobby says Tricia is the more athletic one. She was one of the first girls to play Babe Ruth baseball on a boys’ team. She’s also friendly, funny and down to earth.

[distant percussion music]

HOST: We’re sitting in Bobbi’s small kitchen in Auburn. It’s been months since the shooting and she tells me that it’s still hard to process. She’s haunted by the images she saw that night inside the bowling alley and the chaos outside.

BOBBI NICHOLS: And it felt like an hour but it was only like ten minutes and the cops were there and they were everywhere. And they were in SWAT gear and they had like lights on their head. And finally we decided as a group that we have to go out. We have to get out there. We end up putting our hands up and we end up saying, ‘Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!’ The cops came running, three or four of them. They came running and they, like, surrounded us. And they said, ‘Let’s go, let’s run, let’s go,’ and they’re telling us just stay on the lawn so we can protect you. And I’m like, ‘Where’s my sister? Where’s my sister?’ And nobody’s telling me nothing and nobody’s saying anything.

HOST: Finally, Bobbi sees one of the owners of the bowling alley who’s also a good friend of her sister’s.

BOBBI NICHOLS: So, I said, ‘Where’s Tricia? Where’s Tricia?’ And she doesn’t say anything. And she says, ‘I’m so sorry.’ And I said, ‘What?’ She goes, ‘I’m so …’ So I’m hugging her at this time and we both go to the ground and we’re both crying. And she goes, ‘I’m sorry, she didn’t make it.’ And I think it’s — I’m going crazy because this can’t be happening. I was distraught. I was traumatized. I had deep pain from knowing that she was dead … They put me in an ambulance. And I kept saying, ‘I’m gonna be OK.’ But I wasn’t OK. I couldn’t breathe.

[distant ambient music]

HOST: While police respond to the bowling alley, the shooter drives across town. He leaves his car running outside Schemengees Bar and Grille. Schemengees isn’t just a bar. Or a grille. It’s a popular place to play cornhole, darts and pool. It has a friendly vibe. You don’t have to be a local to feel welcome. I pass it almost daily on my way to work.

BEN DYER: There was probably 40 or 50 of us there. Playing cornhole. We all pretty much had our tables we sat at with our friends and ordered food and had drinks or beers, water, whatever it was.

HOST: Ben Dyer is a last-minute sub for the cornhole league. Also playing that night, a group of deaf players and friends.

BEN DYER: There were other people in the restaurant just eating. There was a couple people playing pool. So it was just a normal Wednesday evening and then all hell broke loose.

HOST: Ben hears several loud pops, followed by screaming. He sees a flash of white and dives to the floor. That’s when he realizes that a bullet has torn off a big chunk of his upper right arm.

BEN DYER: And I remember putting my left hand into my wound on my right arm just to cover it up because of the pain. And the next thing I remember is I basically thought that it was all done. The carnage was over and I picked up my head to look around. And all I remember at that point is at 11 yards, the gunman pulled up on me. I saw the green light on his gun come up, I took my hand from in my arm, put my hands out in front of my face. And I must have ducked right at the right time.

HOST: Badly wounded and bleeding heavily, Ben holds his breath in the dark. The power in the bar has been turned off. Someone yells, ‘All clear, all clear, he’s gone.’ Then Ben picks up his head and looks around. All he can see are lights from cellphones.

BEN DYER: And I was laying there and I’m like, ‘I’m hit. I need help now. I need help.‘ And so I had one person standing over with a cellphone and another one of our friends was standing in front of me. And I looked up and I said, ‘I need you to tourniquet my arm right now or I’m gonna die’ … He goes, ‘I don’t know how.’

HOST: Ben directs his friend to use his shoelace to tie his right arm as tight as possible at the highest point he can. And then the first responders arrive. One of them uses a belt to cinch up Ben’s wounded shoulder and someone else puts a tourniquet on his leg which he hadn’t realized has also been shot. Then they put him in a sheet and carry him outside.

BEN DYER: And I remember being brought out to the front steps and the person carrying me out asked when the first ambulance was going to be there. And they were like four to five minutes because they were still dealing with what happened at the bowling alley. And the person says, ‘We don’t have four to five minutes.’ So he says, ‘Do you mind riding in the back of a truck?’ And I said, ‘Nope, as long as you get me and keep me alive.’

So they backed the truck up right there, picked me up and put me in the back of the truck and one of the things I remember was, I took a big, deep breath when I got in and I remember smelling deer. Because, come to find out, it was a game warden who took me out in the back of his truck.

HOST: Ben is rushed to the emergency room. He’s been shot five times, in his arm, shoulder, hands and leg and he’s losing a lot of blood.

BEN DYER: And I told them I was O negative and I told them everything about me. I told them my name, my birthdate, my Social Security number because if I was gonna die that night I wasn’t dying a John Doe.

HOST The shooter is still at large — still unknown — but not for long.

Just after 8 p.m., police release video images of a man carrying a high-powered assault rifle into the bowling alley. This is the shooter. People are advised to stay off the streets.

About 30 miles away, Cara Lamb is at home with her partner, John, and her 18-year-old son, Colby, when she gets a breaking news alert on her phone about the shootings in Lewiston.

[ambient music fades up]

CARA LAMB: You know, it was a local news headline, there’s been a shooting nearby and, that’s — in Maine? Unheard of. Then they put the picture up of him entering the bowling alley. And I sat there looking at it.

HOST: He looks so familiar but she isn’t sure. Could this be her ex-husband, Robert Card? Colby’s dad? She thinks about it some more.

CARA LAMB: What really solidified it was where he was. He was at their bowling alley. He was at Schemengees. That’s where he and Colby spent plenty of time together.

HOST: She feels terrible asking Colby to confirm her worst fears, but she goes downstairs anyway to show him the photo.

CARA LAMB: He goes, ‘Yeah, it could be dad …’ And that’s when I called 911. And I said who I was, that I was with Colby, and they needed to find this person immediately. And they hung up.

HOST: Cara hangs up the phone and her first instinct is to leave the house and get somewhere safe.

[soft marimba music]

HOST: Nearly six months earlier she and Colby had reported Robert Card, known to his family as Rob, to a school resource officer and a sheriff’s deputy. He’s been having delusions that people are calling him a pedophile. He’s increasingly aggressive and owns at least ten guns. Over the summer, after nearly getting into a fight with fellow reservists, Rob spent 19 days in a psychiatric hospital. He’s accused Colby and other family members of turning against him and he’s been angry with Cara ever since their divorce. Plus, he knows where they live. He’s been to their house. They head to a nearby police department in Topsham.

CARA LAMB: At that point I was 99% sure it was Rob, because the picture of his car had just been released, and that confirmed it because his front bumper was a different color.

HOST: Cara isn’t the only one who recognizes the image. Rob’s sister Nicole has also contacted police. By now, a massive manhunt is underway for 40-year-old Robert Card, a trained marksman and hand grenade instructor in the Army Reserve.

More than 400 law enforcement officers descend on Lewiston. People are being told to stay inside. Nerves are rattled with every suspicious sighting or unexplained noise in the dark. Police receive hundreds of calls to check out a backyard, a barn, a vacant building. And they hold the first of many press briefings to update the public.

MIKE SAUSCHUCK, PRESS CONFERENCE: “If people see him, they should not approach Card or make contact with him in any way.”

HOST: At the Topsham Police Department, Cara waits with John and Colby in the lobby and tries to figure out what to do. She says police are too busy trying to find Rob to talk to them and they can’t offer them a security detail. So, Cara, John and Colby decide not to return home. Instead, they go into hiding.

[ticking strings music]

HOST: After hearing that her sister has been killed at the bowling alley, Bobbi Nichols is in shock.

BOBBI NICHOLS: I couldn’t breathe. They had to give me oxygen … My blood pressure was — and everything was off the charts and they said, ‘You need to go to the hospital. So we’re taking you to the hospital.’

HOST: Bobbi is taken to a hospital room and given some medication. State police stop by to question her. And around 2 a.m. she finally heads home.

BOBBI NICHOLS: And I was so messed up that I never even called my mother. Of course I didn’t have a phone. I didn’t call my brothers. I just was all done, you know? I was out of my mind and couldn’t believe what had happened.

HOST: About a mile away, family members and friends of those who had been shot gather at Central Maine Medical Center. The mood outside the emergency room is tense when my colleague and I show up. People are desperate for information about their loved ones.

HOST: Keela Smith is Ben Dyer’s fiancé.

[soft ambient music fades up]

KEELA SMITH: I got there and his brother and sister were there and it was probably 15 minutes and they took us into a room … It was a room with — it was just social workers. And I thought, ‘Oh, this isn’t good. This is not going to be good,’ because I work in the hospital and I know when they bring people in a room like that it’s usually bad news. But thankfully it wasn’t. It was just to say that he was in serious, critical condition. But he was in the ICU.

HOST: It’s after midnight when Keela can finally see Ben. He’s been through the first of several surgeries. He’s on a ventilator. He’s got tubes and bandages all over his body. There’s blood in his eyebrows, his hair and his beard. And in addition to his severely damaged arm and leg, he’s lost a finger. Keela stands watch over him all night long. Not until the following day does she allow herself to take a break and drive to Ben’s house.

KEELA SMITH: And I call it scream-crying. I scream cried so hard when I got to his house, in the driveway. There were a lot of tears and his neighbor came out and his look on his face. He was just as white as can be. And he was like, ‘Oh my God, we just heard.’ I said, ‘I know. He’s OK. He’s alive and he’s gonna be OK, I think.’

[plucking strings music]

HOST: Nearly all of the 18 people killed that night are men. Four are deaf. They are spouses, parents, children, friends and co-workers. The youngest is a 14-year-old boy, Aaron Young, whose father, William was also killed. The oldest are in their 70s, a married couple: Bob Violette who coached the youth bowling league and his wife, Lucy.

As a shelter in place order goes into a second day, people are afraid to leave the house or even walk their dogs. Schools, grocery stores and other businesses remain closed. Streets and neighborhoods are mostly quiet. And then late Friday night, Oct. 27, Gov. Janet Mills makes an announcement. The largest manhunt in Maine history is over.

GOV. JANET MILLS, PRESS CONFERENCE: “The Maine State Police have located the body of Robert Card. In Lisbon. He is dead.”

HOST: Dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. For Keela Smith it is not a relief.

KEELA SMITH: People were like, ‘Oh, thank God it’s over.’ And I thought to myself, ‘It is not over. It is so far from over.’

[strumming guitar music]

KATHLEEN WALKER, COMMISSION: “I’m going to read my statement if that’s OK … My husband, Jason Walker, was shot and killed at Just-In-Time Recreation on Oct. 25, 2023.”

HOST: In the months since the mass shooting, victims’ loved ones, survivors, law enforcement, the Army and the family of Robert Card have told their stories to an independent commission established by the governor to investigate the facts of the case. One after another, they shared what led up to the tragedy, what went wrong and what they lost.

KATHLEEN WALKER, COMMISSION: “Jason was killed just seven days before our 27th wedding anniversary. Jason and I also have two sons, Jonathan, age 22, and Colin, age 24 …”

HOST: Kathleen and Jason Walker were bowling with another couple when Card, who was armed with a semiautomatic rifle, walked into Just-In-Time Recreation and fired 18 rounds. Jason yelled at his wife to get down. When Card’s gun jammed he and his best friend Mike Deslauriers tried to get the gun away from Card. Police later said their actions probably gave other people just a few seconds more to get out alive. Jason and Mike were both killed. On top of the loss of her husband, Kathleen no longer feels safe.

KATHLEEN WALKER, COMMISSION: “I lock every door. I installed cameras at my home. When I go out, I carry a firearm. I always look over my shoulder and I flinch at loud sounds. I need to check on my kids each time that I hear a siren because I could not bear any more grief than the weight I already carry … I’m beyond thankful that Jason worked to protect me and he did not die for me not to live. I have to remind myself of this each and every day. I thank God I have my village and my kids and the kindness and graciousness of strangers from all over the country who’ve come together to offer support. There are sparks of beauty in tragedy and I’m allowing myself to see and appreciate them.”

[piano music fades up]

[Sound of countdown for sign unveiling, applause: “Five, four, three, two, one!”]

BOBBI NICHOLS: “Today is one of the few great days that happened and I am very blessed to be here for her in the revealing of the sign. And it means a lot to me and it means everything to my sister.”

HOST: On a Sunday In June, I’m at Pettengill Park in Auburn, just down the street from my house. City officials are here to dedicate two softball fields to Bobbi’s sister, Tricia Asselin, who was 53 years old, and to Joe Walker, 57, the manager of Schemengees Bar and Grille who was killed as he confronted the shooter with a knife. Both lived in Auburn. Both loved to play the game. And both were known for their generosity. Bobbi talked to her sister every single day. She hasn’t been able to return to work and undergoes counseling every week.

BOBBI NICHOLS: “A lot of days I can’t leave the house … It feels like it was yesterday. It really does. It’s still so real and so vivid. More so than when it happened. I couldn’t connect with — is this real or not real? It takes a long time for the fog to clear and it’s hard to really separate your grief from losing your sister and dealing with being in a mass shooting. You become two different brains. One brain where you’re fight or flight and then you’re afraid to go out. And the other one you’re just crying because you lost, you know, every — your best friend, your sister, your world.”

HOST: For Ben Dyer, who was critically wounded and spent 19 days in the hospital, life is now a constant series of adjustments to his physical limitations.

HOST: Ben is back to playing cornhole with a supportive group of friends, including at this backyard fundraiser for one of the shooting victims’ families.

[sound of cornhole tournament]

BEN DYER: My first game I didn’t do so well. But that’s all right. I’ll get better. I’m here. I’m playing. That’s all that matters.

HOST: He’s grateful to be playing. It’s just not the same. He’s teaching himself to do everything with his left hand.

BEN DYER: I lost my right bicep and tricep completely. So, I lost nerves … I was shot through the right hand and the left hand where I lost my right index finger completely. I’ve been shot through the shoulder that came out my arm. And then I was shot in the legs where I have a through and through. And then I have another one where I still have a partial bullet in my leg … My whole right side of my body is different than my left side.

[percussion, string music fades up]

HOST: Ben grew up in a small town in northern Maine where outdoor recreation, including hunting, is a big part of the culture. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to hunt again. But almost exactly a year after being shot, Ben went on a bird hunting trip with some buddies. It was a big step for him, his first time being around gunfire since Oct. 25, 2023. But he still isn’t back to work and doesn’t know when or if he’ll be able to return.

BEN DYER: It’s been a process of learning to say, ‘I need help.’ I’m not the type person who asks for help but in this situation I needed help. I mean from the point of brushing your teeth to bathing to going to the bathroom, eating … I was a 47-year-old man that was now an infant.

HOST: Ben has a daughter and a son, ages 11 and 12. He’s trying to make sure their lives are as normal as possible, but he also relies on them and on his fiancée, Keela, to help him as he recovers. But he says he won’t let his anger consume him.

BEN DYER: Anger doesn’t do any good. If I were to sit and focus on him and what he did, he’d be winning. He’d be controlling the carnage that he wanted. Whereas do I forgive him? No … I have to talk about it. I have to go through my therapist and learn to handle it and move forward.

HOST: People process trauma in different ways, even those who were not directly involved. A few days after the shootings, I started having severe headaches. It felt like a meat cleaver was cutting my skull in two. It seemed to happen when I was discussing the shootings, especially live on the air. Sometimes, I would have to lie on the floor. I was surprised how much I was affected even though I didn’t personally know anyone who was killed. All these months later, I often break down when someone asks me about it or I think about the losses, the heavy losses that so many other people have endured.

KEELA SMITH: I can picture the facility. I can picture where he was … Like when he was shot through his hands. And I can see it. I can see the guy looking at him. And it’s hard.

HOST: Keela Smith, Ben’s fiance, has heard him tell his story so many times that she now feels like she was there, too.

KEELA SMITH: Every now and again, it catches you, like did this really happen? Did we really, really survive this? And, for me, it was pretty horrible. It was scary and it was … You know, we want to move forward, but hearing it, it’s like it just happened all over again. And that’s difficult for sure.

HOST: I apologize to Ben and Keela for asking them to relive their trauma once again. After something like this, you find yourself saying “I’m sorry” a lot. Sometimes, I’ll ask people who were there that night or who lost someone if I can give them a hug. It’s as much for me as it is for them. And it’s never enough.

The family of Robert Card knows that feeling too well. When they testified at the shooting commission, they spoke directly to the victims’ families, and their anguish was clear.

JAMES HERLING, COMMISSION: “Each of your names are on our wall in our homes … as a constant reminder.”

HOST: Cara Lamb struggles to understand what the future now holds for her family and so many others.

CARA LAMB: Life was hard enough and then somebody did something just absolutely unthinkable and all of our lives will be affected forever. Who we are will be affected forever, changed forever. It cannot be all bad. It has to be enough to spark some change.

[marimba, woodwind music fades up]

HOST: In the months before the Lewiston shootings, Robert Card — a trained marksman — was unraveling. There were multiple warnings that he was a threat. They came from his family and friends. And there were many opportunities to intervene. Police, the Army, and the mental health providers were familiar with Robert Card long before he went on his deadly rampage. What families of the victims want to know is why no one stopped him.

JUSTICE ELLEN GORMAN, COMMISSION: “Based upon the information that they gave you, did you believe that Robert Card was mentally ill or suffering from some sort of a mental health crisis?”

DEPUTY CHAD CARLETON, COMMISSION: “Yes, I did.”

CARA LAMB, INTERVIEW: “He was afraid his dad was getting violent and getting so aggressive that he was going to be physically violent and he was right.”

SEAN HODGSON, INTERVIEW: “I didn’t want Robert Card dead. I didn’t want those people dead. I was trying to get him help.”

HOST: I’ll have that story next time on Breakdown.

Breakdown is a collaboration between Maine Public Radio, the Portland Press Herald and Frontline PBS, with support from Rock Creek Sound.

Our reporters are Kevin Miller, Steve Mistler and Patty Wight.

The show is edited by Ellen Weiss and Keith Shortall.

Our executive producers are Mark Simpson and Erin Texeira.

The producer is Emily Pisacreta.

Sound design and mixing by Benjamin Frisch.

Fact checking by Nicole Reinert.

Legal support from Dale Cohen.

Rick Schneider is the President and CEO of Maine Public Radio.

Lisa Desisto is the CEO and Publisher of the Portland Press Herald.

Raney Aronson-Rath is the executive producer and editor-in-chief of FRONTLINE.

Breakdown is produced through FRONTLINE’s Local Journalism Initiative, which is funded by the John S. and James L. Knight Foundation.

For an upcoming video translation of the podcast in American Sign Language, go to frontline.org.

For additional reporting about Lewiston, visit mainepublic.org/breakdown, pressherald.com and frontline.org, where you can also stream an upcoming documentary.

If you are in crisis, please call, text or chat with the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline at 988, or contact the Crisis Text Line by texting TALK to 741741.

We’re a new podcast and the best way to help us get discovered is to leave a five-star review wherever you get our show, and tell your friends.

I’m Susan Sharon, thanks for listening.