It had been a typical weekend.

I had gone with my mother to the mall in Durham to buy some new clothes on Saturday morning and ended up taking it easy that night. I expected an uneventful Sunday, highlighted by watching Carolina play Oklahoma in the NCAA Tournament.

But at about 11:15 a.m. Sunday, and when I turned on my phone, I had a voicemail from our managing editor, David Sinclair.

"Hey John, it's Dave Sinclair," he said. "Gimme a call when you get a chance. I've got a pretty big story going down in Carthage -- some kind of shooting at Pinelake nursing home. Glenn (Pilot photographer Glenn Sides) can't get anywhere near it. They're not letting him in, and I'm probably going to have to have a couple of reporters working this thing."

The message made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I called David back, and he asked me to get up to Carthage as soon as I could to find out what was going on. Before I left, I called FirstHealth Moore Regional Hospital and found out that it was on lockdown. I knew this was bad. Nothing can prepare you for a story like this.

When I got to Carthage, I parked near the intersection of Saunders Street and Pinehurst Avenue and walked to the police barricade. It was a brilliantly sunny day, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Uncomfortable gusts of wind knifed through the town every few seconds. News helicopters swirled overhead, like something in a movie or TV show.

A gentleman assisting the state trooper stationed there politely informed me that no one was allowed past that point. He directed me to the Moore County Courthouse to find out more information.

At the courthouse, family members of residents at Pinelake were huddled together. Some were pressing law-enforcement officials for more information on the tragedy. Some had already heard the worst -- a loved one had been killed. One man on a cell phone could be heard saying, "He shot my grandfather!" Others were sobbing.

I soon realized I was the first reporter there. The rest of the media had descended upon the Carthage police station.

I managed to speak with some of the folks there, and they gave me accounts of what they had heard, and I relayed the information to Dave and Online Editor Hunter Chase. As time wore on, the news kept getting worse. Someone had chosen to rob eight innocent people of their lives.

About an hour after I arrived at the courthouse, family members were crowding around a representative from the Sheriff's Office who had information on the victims. One woman came running up to the officer with a panicked look on her face. She called out a name, her mother's, and asked if it was on the list.

"Yes, ma'am," the officer replied. The woman broke down in tears, her husband holding her.

That moment will forever be seared into my memory. I walked to a nearby concrete ledge to sit down and pull myself together. The last big story I had covered was the presidential inauguration in Washington -- a joyous event. This was very different.

I spent the rest of that day and almost all of Monday in Carthage, speaking with countless people. Everyone was willing to lend a hand to help. Even in that darkest hour, the strength of the Carthage community was shining through.

That strength may have been best personified in Carthage Police Chief Chris McKenzie. As he fielded questions from the media Sunday afternoon, he eloquently described the character of his hometown.

"This is a small community built on faith," he said, "and faith will get us through."

Knowing the fabric of Carthage and the entire county, I'm confident that it will.

Contact John Krahnert III at 693-2473 or by e-mail at jkrahnert@thepilot.com.