BOBBI NICHOLS: All of a sudden I heard this noise. And it was so loud. It felt like this big glass chandelier had broke.

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PATTY WIGHT, HOST: Some people who survived the deadliest mass shooting in Maine’s history recall the moment they knew something was wrong by what they heard.

BEN DYER: All we heard was pop pop to start. And everyone kinda looked, kinda like, ‘Oh, did balloons pop? Was there a birthday party in the back room?’ … And and then we heard the pop, pop and scream.

HOST: But others that night also remember a different sensation.

KYLE CURTIS, COMMISSION: “I felt the vibrations in the bar. The glasses at the bar shattered. And I was confused.”

HOST: Kyle Curtis is deaf. He’s telling his story to an independent commission investigating the shooting. Like nearly all of the deaf people in this episode, his words are voiced by a female interpreter. Curtis was one of nine deaf men who were playing in a weekly cornhole league at Schemengees Bar & Grille in Lewiston on Oct. 25, 2023.

KYLE CURTIS, COMMISSION: “I saw the bullets coming out of the gun. I could see the flashes in the muzzle. And I could see people falling.”

HOST: Another deaf player in the group, Steve Richards Kretlow, says that it felt like something in the kitchen exploded.

STEVE RICHARDS KRETLOW, COMMISSION: “I stood up at my table and looked to see what was happening and saw a gunman. I told my friends, ‘Run! Run! Hide. Be safe.’ And everybody scattered. I could feel the vibrations of the gun going off everywhere.”

HOST: Kretlow runs, and he’s shot in the leg. He dives under a table and pretends he’s dead.

Meanwhile, Kyle Curtis drops to the floor to try to escape the barrage. He crawls toward a door and makes it outside. It’s only then that he realizes he’s injured.

KYLE CURTIS, COMMISSION: “And I felt kind of funny because I felt all warm and wet on my side, so I looked and a fragment had hit me … and I was just kind of in shock. I couldn’t see any of my deaf friends anywhere. No one was coming out. And that scared me. I could only see hearing people.”

HOST: Others try to help Curtis. They take off his shirt and use it to tie up his arm. When police arrive, a friend who can hear tries to help Curtis communicate.

KYLE CURTIS, COMMISSION: “Because he knew and understood I was deaf, and so he was gesturing with me and sharing with the cop what had happened.”

HOST: Eighteen people died that night after the shooting at Schemengees and at a bowling alley across town. The state of Maine was reeling.

And it was an especially difficult time for the deaf community.

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HOST: Four of the people killed were deaf.

It’s believed to be the deadliest mass shooting of deaf people in the U.S.

The pain of that loss would be compounded in the hours and days that followed, as deaf family members tried to find out what happened and locate loved ones. Some who were injured struggled to communicate with first responders and health care workers. And the wider deaf public had to fight for access to televised public safety information while a two-day manhunt was underway.

It was a familiar experience for a community that often feels forgotten. But it’s further evidence, they say, that our systems are unprepared to meet their needs — in emergencies, health care, and the media. And they want that to change.

From Maine Public Radio, The Portland Press Herald and Frontline PBS, this is Breakdown.

I’m Patty Wight. Episode 5: ‘We’re still here.’

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NIRAV SHAH, PRESS CONFERENCE: “… the Maine CDC is now reporting 2,913 cases of COVID-19 across the state …”

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HOST: It’s June 2020 and Nirav Shah, the director of the Maine Center for Disease Control and Prevention, is holding his regular televised briefing on COVID-19.

NIRAV SHAH, PRESS CONFERENCE: “Right now, 26 individuals are currently in the hospital … ”

HOST: In the upper right-hand corner of the screen, there’s a guy with a trim beard — wearing a blazer — who’s interpreting the CDC’s presentation into American Sign Language.

His name is Josh Seal. He’s deaf, and is one of just a few Certified Deaf Interpreters in Maine. Josh works with a hearing teammate who listens and signs to him, then he interprets for viewers.

PATTY WIGHT, HOST: For many Deaf people in the U.S., English is not their primary language. It’s American Sign Language, or ASL. The two are not the same. ASL has its own vocabulary, grammar, and word order.

Because ASL is Josh’s native language, his interpretation of the CDC briefings is the best way to provide the latest information on the spread of a new and deadly virus we know little about. But it was a much bigger audience than usual for Josh.

LIZ SEAL: There he is, I mean, not just a regular private doctor’s office. No, he’s on the news. You know, it was pretty nerve racking for him.

HOST: That’s Josh’s wife, Liz Seal, who’s also Deaf. Their four kids are, too. She says that Josh had only started working as a Certified Deaf Interpreter shortly before the pandemic.

LIZ SEAL: He had just left his job as an ed tech at a school, which he loved supporting young Deaf children in elementary school and to give them a can-do attitude.

HOST: Being an interpreter fit in with one of his life missions: making sure Maine’s Deaf community had quick access to information — especially in an emergency.

But information would be hard to come by in the aftermath of the shooting, even for Josh’s own family. Because he was one of the Deaf men playing cornhole that night at Schemengees.

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HOST: Liz found out there had been a shooting through friends.

LIZ SEAL: But there was no details. Just in general, there was a shooting. So I didn’t know what to do.

HOST: Liz needs to find Josh. She gets in her car and meets up with Deaf friends who are also searching for missing loved ones.

There isn’t a lot of information in the hours after the shooting. But Liz says for the Deaf and hard of hearing community, there’s even less.

LIZ SEAL: We knew one was at this hospital. One was at the Armory, where apparently people were getting more information there. We call different hospitals. ‘Do you have my husband?’

HOST: She can’t get any information about Josh. Liz drives to hospitals and the Lewiston Armory, where survivors are initially brought. Her in-laws, who are hearing, also join the search.

LIZ SEAL: And this went all through the night. ‘Where could he be?’

HOST: Liz is frantic. Everywhere she goes, she’s using text to communicate. Her in-laws know some sign language, and try to help.

LIZ SEAL: What was interesting was that all these places, the Armory, the different hospitals, even the reunification center did not think to provide interpreters, did not think to call them when they were set up at the very beginning, even though they knew that there were Deaf people involved.

HOST: It’s unclear from the commission report exactly when first responders realized that Deaf people were among the victims and survivors. But it found that when Lewiston police discovered some of the victims were Deaf, they dispatched an officer who knew ASL to the Armory.

What Liz remembers is sitting at a table at the reunification center and all at once several people start talking over each other. She doesn’t know what they’re saying. But her mother-in-law does. It’s about Josh.

LIZ SEAL: Eventually they directed that to my mother-in-law, that at this point we assume he’s among the deceased.

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HOST: Josh has most likely been killed. Liz is overcome with grief.

LIZ SEAL: That was made much worse by the fact that my mother-in-law, who was the mother of my husband, had to also be the one to break the news to me. That retraumatized me again.

HOST: As Deaf loved ones in the community face communication barriers, two Deaf men wounded at Schemengees also encounter problems at local hospitals.

Steve Richards Kretlow is at one hospital, bleeding from a gunshot wound to his leg. To communicate with doctors, he says he needs an American Sign Language interpreter. But, as Kretlow explains to the independent commission investigating the shooting, he instead has to rely on Video Remote Interpreting, or VRI. It’s a device that connects to a virtual interpreter on a screen, such as a tablet.

STEVE RICHARDS KRETLOW, COMMISSION: “It was just a screen with a person on it … And I said, ‘No. I don’t, I don’t understand that well enough. I need an interpreter … an actual live person.’ … This system — VRI — it just keeps disconnecting in the middle of signs. And they didn’t know our local signs. Those interpreters are national interpreters so they don’t know our local signs and they didn’t know what I was trying to say, and she couldn’t catch up, and I was so frustrated.”

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HOST: Like many languages, ASL has regional differences and local dialects and signs. That’s part of why Kretlow struggles to communicate.

STEVE RICHARDS KRETLOW, COMMISSION: “And they just kept using VRI, and I was missing most of every conversation. It was like I was missing 80% of what was being said.”

HOST: It’s also ideal to have an in-person interpreter because ASL is a visual language. It uses the whole body, especially the hands and face. If you’re a hearing person, and are sick or in pain, think about how hard it can be to talk. Now imagine the same situation, only you’re Deaf. And you have to communicate over video.

MEGAN VOZZELLA: And you are laying on a bed, let’s say. The way it’s set up, you can’t see faces. If you’re in pain, you can’t access that information.

HOST: That’s Megan Vozzella. She’s Deaf. She’s advocated for her community since her husband, Steve Vozzella, who was also Deaf, was killed in the shooting.

MEGAN VOZZELLA: The medical professionals who are there are, you know, trying to move things out of the way. If you have a human, a person who is there who can adjust, like the interpreter can, that gives you access to that communication for all the parties who are there.

HOST: There’s another disadvantage to VRI: it’s prone to connectivity issues. It can freeze or cut out if the Wi-Fi isn’t strong enough. That’s something I witnessed firsthand when I asked to see a VRI machine.

MALVINA GREGORY: OK. So this is a remote interpreter unit. …

HOST: Malvina Gregory is standing in front of a rolling cart with a tablet mounted on a pole. Gregory is the director of interpreter and cross-cultural services at Portland-based MaineHealth. It’s the largest health care system in the state.

MALVINA GREGORY: So I’m just going to tap and open up the call to find a sign language interpreter.

HOST: Within moments, a friendly male interpreter appears on the screen. But as he explains VRI, his image freezes and his voice becomes garbled.

VRI INTERPRETER: … and I would be ready to go and I would say tilt the camera towards your patient … [garbled]

HOST: A weak Wi-Fi connection is the problem, says Gregory.

MALVINA GREGORY: This is the frustration that some of the patients have — is that his image is freezing a little bit. Right, we’re getting digitization of it, um, it will drop out …

VRI INTERPRETER: Can you see my hands moving smoothly?

MALVINA GREGORY: Yeah no, we can’t actually. It’s actually very blurred to us.

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HOST: That glitchiness is what Kyle Curtis says he experienced the night of the shooting. He also had to rely on VRI while he was treated at a different hospital after he was hit by a fragment.

KYLE CURTIS, COMMISSION: ” … you only see half a sign, you miss half the sentence.”

HOST: He’s testifying to the independent commission.

KYLE CURTIS, COMMISSION: “They decided it was so bad there in that room, they moved me to a different room … and it was worse there than it was before. They switched interpreters six different times on the VRI system to find somebody who could understand me. And I was very frustrated trying to explain things over and over with all of the, the um, disconnects. And I said I need an ASL — American Sign Language — interpreter.”

HOST: Studies have linked poor communication to worse health outcomes in people who are deaf and hard of hearing. In their testimony to the commission, Curtis and Kretlow don’t say whether the communication gaps affected the care they received.

But commission member Debra Baeder offers an observation:

DEBRA BAEDER, COMMISSION: “What strikes me is you go through this incredible trauma. And then the gaps and lapses and problems with communication just compounds it. It definitely magnifies the horrible experience that you had.”

HOST: “Yes,” Curtis answers. “I agree.”

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HOST: But it turns out, there were interpreters waiting outside Lewiston hospitals on the night of the shooting, trying to get in. They came after word spread rapidly through the Deaf community that some of their members were among those killed and injured. But they weren’t let in for hours.

NOEL SULLIVAN: We were denied access because they were in lockdown.

HOST: Noel Sullivan is the president and CEO of the Pine Tree Society, which offers 24/7 ASL interpreting services.

NOEL SULLIVAN: But we were trying to say, ‘But you have someone in there, we know you will not communicate with.’ And they said, ‘Oh, we have this iPad system, we use virtual.’

HOST: One hospital — Central Maine Medical Center — treated more than a dozen people who were injured. As their emergency room filled with patients, chief medical and operating officer John Alexander says the hospital also became overwhelmed with volunteers who wanted to help in whatever way they could — from interpreters, to former staff, to members of the community.

JOHN ALEXANDER: And so trying to manage that, you know, in-pouring of assistance, which is great, and you know, certainly, when you reflect back on it is heartwarming. But in the moment, was really a lot to try to figure out, ‘OK, who are you? What are your credentials? What can you do? Where should you go?’

HOST: Even though it was a chaotic night, some say the communication gaps after the Lewiston shooting point to a larger systemic problem. ASL interpreter Amanda Eisenhart told the independent commission investigating the shooting that those gaps highlight an assumption in our culture that Deaf people are not present.

AMANDA EISENHART, COMMISSION: “This is because Deaf people are chronically overlooked in public policy, procedure, and public safety practice. To assume that Deaf people are not present in spaces is to continue to practice the social erasure of Deaf lives.”

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HOST: More than 3.5% of the U.S. population is deaf or hard of hearing. That’s roughly 12 million people. In Maine, the estimate is more than 70,000 people. The state is home to some of the nation’s oldest institutions for the Deaf. The Maine Association of the Deaf formed in the late 1870s. That’s around the same time that a school for the Deaf opened in Portland. It’s still in operation, in a neighboring town and under a different name: the Governor Baxter School for the Deaf.

The Deaf community in Maine often describes itself as small and tight knit. Liz Seal says that they rely on each other to share information.

LIZ SEAL: We’re the type of community that believes in collectivism. And what I know I’m going to tell you, what you know, you’re going to tell me.

HOST: But Liz says the Deaf community didn’t have the same access to public information after the shooting, even though state officials provided regular televised updates.

MIKE SAUSCHUCK, PRESS CONFERENCE: “Thank you for joining us here this evening. My name’s Mike Sauschuck, I’m the commissioner from the Department of Public Safety here in Maine.“

HOST: At the first briefing, the night of the shooting, when the suspect was still at large — there was no ASL interpreter.

MIKE SAUSCHUCK, PRESS CONFERENCE: “And this is a general caution to the public that at approximately 6:56 this evening, a couple of shooting incidents occurred here with multiple casualties in the city of Lewiston.”

HOST: To the Deaf community, it was a stinging reminder that they were an afterthought. And because English is not the first language for many Deaf people, TV captions aren’t a substitute that work for everyone.

By the next day, there was an ASL interpreter at the briefings. But she wasn’t always visible to viewers.

During a news conference Friday morning — a day and half after the shooting — police were still trying to find the suspect and rolled in large maps of the search area behind the lectern. That meant there was no place for the interpreter, Regan Thibodeau, to stand in view of video cameras.

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HOST: I was at that news conference. I remember Thibodeau, visibly frustrated, hoisting herself on top of a hard wooden desk behind the maps, kneeling to try to get in the cameras’ view. But most of the time, you couldn’t see her.

Afterwards, Thibodeau, who is deaf herself, said the shooting hit both the local and national deaf community hard — and they were trying to tune in.

REGAN THIBODEAU: There are many people calling to tell me, the interpreter, ‘I can’t see you. What do I do to see you? … Some channels are full coverage, sometimes they pan out and then I can’t see you. I don’t know what’s going on, I missed that information.’

HOST: All that members of the Deaf community want, Thibodeau said, is to get the same information at the same time as everyone else — especially during a public emergency.

REGAN THIBODEAU: These people live in our community. They live in our towns. This is a critical time and access is important.

HOST: By that afternoon’s briefing, the message began to sink in. Public Safety Commissioner Sauschuck opened with this announcement:

MIKE SAUSCHUCK, PRESS CONFERENCE: “For starters, let me just say, for the consideration of the four Deaf victims and their family, we are requesting that the ASL interpreter is in all frames for language access here in Maine and the U.S. They are grieving and have a right to know the latest info in ASL.”

HOST: That reminder was repeated at other news conferences about the shooting — including one held by President Joe Biden during his visit to Lewiston a week later. As Biden invited Maine Sen. Susan Collins to speak, Maine’s governor whispered in her ear just before she stepped to the microphone.

SUSAN COLLINS, PRESS CONFERENCE: “Thank you very much, Mr. President. I’ve been asked to remind the cameras to include our interpreter in your shots …”

LISA ROSE: I was very blown away by that.

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HOST: Lisa Rose is the president of the National Association of the Deaf. She’s deaf herself and says that moment served as a powerful example.

LISA ROSE: I had never seen someone at that level of government make sure that the screen is going to be accessible.

HOST: In the months that followed, news stories and events drew positive attention to the Deaf community and also recognized its losses.

Maine’s popular minor league baseball team, the Portland Sea Dogs, held a Deaf and Hard-of-Hearing Awareness Night the following summer. Baseball has historic ties to Deaf culture. In the late 1800s, several major league players who were Deaf helped pioneer some of the hand signals that umpires still use to this day.

And baseball was Josh Seal’s favorite sport. He was honored before the game started.

ANNOUNCER, SEA DOGS GAME: “At this time, we’d like to take a moment to remember Josh Seal. Josh was a beloved leader in the state’s deaf community …”

HOST: Students from the Baxter School for the Deaf signed the national anthem while it was sung.

ANNOUNCER, SEA DOGS GAME: “They are thrilled to showcase the beauty and authenticity of American Sign Language through this performance …”

HOST: The baseball team wore shirts emblazoned with Sea Dogs in ASL fingerspelling, and they were later auctioned off to support a camp for Deaf and hard of hearing children that Josh started.

[piano music]

HOST: Liz Seal was at the game with their four children. She said this kind of awareness of the Deaf community is what Josh worked for.

LIZ SEAL: It’s been wonderful to raise awareness since the shooting … you know, people thought that Deaf and hard of hearing people already had full access, but then they learned in a crisis we do not.

HOST: But along with the increased attention given to the deaf community, there were missteps.

Roughly six weeks after the shooting, a task force to improve communication in health care settings for the Deaf and hard of hearing met for the first time. The task force was established shortly before the shooting. Now, its work took on even greater importance. But the first time they meet, they run into a communication blunder.

EMILY BLACHLY, TASK FORCE: “May I make one more comment before we move on about Deaf community members not being able to see?”

HOST: Task force member Emily Blachly, who’s Deaf, points out that the livestream video of the meeting lacks an extra camera to focus on the interpreters.

EMILY BLACHLY: “This forum is happening in, um, in spoken English for the most part, but the interpreters who are here for us in the room are not accessible to those who are joining online on Zoom because there’s no camera on them … So this is an example of where those barriers happen just by public entities, so …”

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HOST: After a brief discussion, the co-chair of the task force, Sen. Henry Ingwerson pauses the meeting. Roughly 30 minutes later, he resumes it with the interpreters now visible in one of the video frames.

HENRY INGWERSON, TASK FORCE: “This demonstrates the work we have to do, in this, in this committee, this group.”

HOST: In its report issued three months after the shooting, the task force recommended that health care providers at least attempt to get an ASL interpreter when requested. It also urged that health care providers take steps to prevent the overreliance on Video Remote Interpreting — VRI. But some advocates for the Deaf say so far, little has changed.

THOMAS MINCH: Any improvement? I have to say, honestly, not much.

HOST: That’s Thomas Minch of Disability Rights Maine. He says he continues to get a steady stream of complaints from Deaf patients who don’t have access to in-person interpreters at health care appointments. Instead, they have to use VRI.

THOMAS MINCH: And Oct. 25 was absolutely horrendous, of course, but it didn’t even drive the message home. And it’s like, why is this continuing?

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HOST: Others say there is progress being made on improving communication in health care.

The state is undertaking an assessment of how many ASL interpreters are needed. One reason health care providers rely on VRI is that there’s a shortage of interpreters, both in Maine and across the country.

State police released an internal review that says ASL interpreters should be considered necessary in, quote, “significant incidents.”

And the Maine Association of the Deaf is meeting regularly with state officials to initiate changes, including training for first responders to better communicate with people who are deaf and hard of hearing. Director Matt Webster is deaf. He says that the Association wants to see improvements become policy.

MATT WEBSTER: And now that things are in talks … yes, I feel like it’s moving. It’s slow, but it’s moving. I see a commitment from people that I hadn’t seen before.

HOST: The Deaf community nationwide is watching Maine to see if there are any changes — and if the state could be a model.

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The motivation to make changes is real. But so is the concern that it won’t last. More than 25 years ago, the state of Maine issued a report assessing the needs of the Deaf and hard of hearing population. Among the priorities? Better interpreter services and emergency communications — problems that still need to be solved.

THOMAS MINCH: We don’t have high expectations. Because it’s a pattern.

HOST: Again, Thomas Minch of Disability Rights Maine.

THOMAS MINCH: It’s a pattern, a lifetime of patterns that we’ve all experienced, you know, something comes up, and then it’s great, and then it goes away. There’s been no stability in any of this improvement. It just quiets down again.

HOST: This summer, I visited a camp in central Maine called the Pine Tree Camp’s Dirigo Experience. It’s a place where around two dozen kids get to come for a week to splash and swim and form lasting friendships. That’s important for any child — and especially for those who are Deaf or hard of hearing. This camp is just for them.

KEVIN BOHLIN: That was Josh’s vision.

HOST: That’s Kevin Bohlin. Kevin is deaf and was friends with Josh. He helped him start the camp in 2022.

KEVIN BOHLIN: Because he grew up in Maine. And he was essentially alone in his public school system, and he had very few opportunities year-round to meet other Deaf and hard of hearing peers.

HOST: Kevin says the camp is both a response and a solution to the communication barriers the deaf community faces. Here, no one feels left out. And sprinkled in with typical camp activities, like archery and nature walks, kids meet adult mentors and learn about potential careers — guidance that Kevin says deaf kids don’t always get.

IZZY: I’m like, this place is so great. I love this.

HOST: This is 13-year-old Izzy’s first summer at the Dirigo Experience camp. She’s speaking with her own voice and says she likes being with other kids who are Deaf.

IZZY: It kind of makes you feel like that — you’re not alone. Or you’re not different.

HOST: That’s why it’s so important that things improve, says Kevin. Because it will have consequences for this generation of deaf kids.

KEVIN BOHLIN: The changes I want to see, you know, is for them to never have to worry for a single day about getting access to communication.

HOST: Josh Seal dreamed of that too. And for all Deaf and hard of hearing kids to connect with one another and have the confidence to be themselves. Those dreams are now his legacy.

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HOST: In our sixth and final episode:

ARTHUR BARNARD, RALLY: “This is not about taking guns, OK? This is about doing the right thing and finding the right politicians who are willing to do the right thing more than they are afraid of losing their jobs!”

CYNTHIA YOUNG, PRESS CONFERENCE: “There needs to be accountability for those actions not taken that led up to the 18 souls being lost, and also the loss of feeling safe and secure for the survivors of this tragic event.

NICOLE HERLING, COMMISSION: “And my question is, what the hell are we going to do for the people who have traumatic brain injuries today? What are we going to do for their families who are experiencing it today?”

HOST: Turning anguish into action. That’s 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 Susan Sharon, Kevin Miller, and Steve Mistler.

The producer is Emily Pisacreta.

The show is edited by Ellen Weiss and Keith Shortall.

Our executive producers are Mark Simpson and Erin Texeira.

Sound design and mixing by Benjamin Frisch.

Fact checking by Nicole Reinert.

Legal support from Dale Cohen.

Jane Hecker-Cain was the ASL interpreter for Liz Seal.

Cid Pollard was the ASL interpreter for Megan Vozzella.

Rebecca Stuckless was the ASL interpreter for Lisa Rose.

Stacey Bsullak was the ASL interpreter for Regan Thibodeau.

Julia Schafer was the ASL interpreter for Thomas Minch.

Grace Cooney was the ASL interpreter for Kevin Bohlin and Matt Webster.

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 the documentary Breakdown in Maine.

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 Patty Wight. Thanks for listening.