Before February 14, 2018, Fred Guttenberg considered himself to be a regular dad. He dropped his daughter off at dance rehearsal. He took his son to hockey practice. That changed when both of his kids headed to school on Valentine’s Day morning, and one of them never came home. His 14-year-old daughter, Jaime, was one of 17 students and faculty murdered in the mass shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida. Five years later, Guttenberg, 57, shares with Men’s Health, in his own words, how he copes with his devastating loss, why this year feels so significant for him and his family, and what keeps him energized as the years pass by.
I TRY TO visit my daughter once a week. On occasion I go with my wife, but often we go by ourselves because we like our personal time with her. There’s no preparing for it. I treat it like I’m going to see my daughter as if I were going to see her anywhere else. At her stone, we have a bench. I sit on the bench. There’s a fountain just a few yards ahead of me that I stare at. And I talk to Jaime. I tell her what’s going on. I give her insight into the things that I’m thinking about. No, I don’t get responses, but every once in a while, I get signs that tell me Jaime is hearing me.
[Before the shooting], I was a goofy dad of two kids, two dogs, and a husband to Jen. My life professionally was in a transition. I was a Dunkin’ Donuts franchisee. I sold my business in 2016. In 2017, I spent most of that year going back and forth to New York. My brother, who ran the triage for the World Trade Center [during 9/11], died of cancer in October 2017. He was already sick that year, so I was really focused on him. He died four months before Jaime was killed.
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So, in the months prior to the shooting, I actually was just taking time off for the first time in my adult life and trying to figure out what I’m going to do next. Maybe buy another business, maybe go to work for someone. I was trying to figure out what my next purpose was going to be. Maybe the universe works in weird ways, but the fact that I was not attached to a job or a business at the time gave me the ability to throw myself into this [gun safety movement] after what happened.
I AM STILL a dad of two kids. That did not change after the shooting. I am still a parent involved with his two children and reacting to what happened to his two children. The reacting to Jaime no longer involves being a part of the dance community. It’s now being a part of the gun violence prevention community, but I’m still a dad of two kids. It took me a while before I understood that. After the shooting, I kept on referring to Jaime in the past tense, and I was really struggling with that. When I stopped doing that, it gave me clarity on what my role was.
[In preparation for a TED Talk], I was asked to write about the changing relationships going forward from gun violence. In the process of doing that, I realized the relationship that has changed the most was the one between me and my daughter. It used to be about sharing memories and doing things together. Now, it’s talking about memories from the past and remembering Jaime in different ways. That’s when my whole thinking transformed.
Guttenberg describes Jaime, pictured here, as sweet but “tough as nails.”
I spend a lot of time receiving guidance from Jaime. I visit her a lot and I keep her in my life. I also am always cognizant of the fact that my wife and my son and I are still here on this Earth for a reason and we need to be okay. It ain’t been easy. There have been a lot of days where I have struggled, and I’ve developed strategies. In fact, part of how I’ve coped emotionally is writing. Writing has become therapeutic to me. I write a lot of op-eds. I wrote my book, Find the Helpers. In Find the Helpers, one of the key themes is I cope because I have a lot of helpers. It’s been the amazing people around me that have lifted me and carried me, but I also developed strategies.
I love to drive and I love music. I’m a Billy Joel fanatic. On my really down moments, I would get in my car, roll the windows down, put on my Billy Joel, and just drive. I also talk a lot about my dogs because one of them was only four months old when Jaime was killed. The other dog was five years old. I kid you not, those dogs saved my family. Having them in our house has been something that has mattered so deeply to us. It’s why we started this new program called Paws of Love, where we’re now providing companion dogs to families affected by gun violence. Because it mattered to us.
I tried [various forms of therapy], but I am so active and open and constantly talking and getting things off my chest. For me, what really mattered more was my ability to write. That’s just been my method. Fortunately, it has been helpful for me to have that outlet.
I HAD SPENT the past few years preparing myself for [the Parkland shooter trial verdict in October 2022]. I thought I was prepared no matter what the outcome was going to be until I heard the outcome. In that moment, I was really angry and upset. But certain things have happened since then that have changed how I feel. Not about the outcome, but after the trial was over I met with the state attorney. For the very first time, I watched the video of what happened on the third floor where my daughter was shot. I had never seen the video before, not even in the court, because it wasn’t shown to those of us in the audience. It was only shown to the jurors, the judge, and the attorneys. I never fully understood whether or not my daughter suffered. That was a big deal to me. So I decided to go watch the video. As it was described to me, I’m satisfied that she did not suffer.
Immediately after that, I went to the cemetery to see Jaime. I was talking to Jaime about the trial and about my decision to watch the video and how I felt watching the video. I looked up—it was a beautiful, clear blue sky—and I felt peace. It was like in that moment when I looked up, saw the blue sky, and looked down, I saw Jaime’s stone and I realized no matter what happened in this trial, nothing changes. This is still where Jaime is. I no longer cared about the outcome of the trial.
He, the killer, was going to be, for whatever is left of his life, in hell on Earth. I knew that and I no longer cared what was going to happen next. For the first time in all of these years, I was able to put him out of my head. I was able to put stress and anxiety over the trial and what the outcome was going to be out of my head. I no longer think about him and I won’t until I read the inevitable news report that prison justice was served. There’s no doubt in my mind that Jaime heard me that day at the cemetery and helped me through this.
We passed [gun safety] legislation this year, and I’m really proud of that because I played a big role in that, but here’s what keeps me energized. Because of the work we are doing, there are shootings that have been stopped and lives that have been saved. I know that to be true, and yet I’ll never know who it was that was saved. I’ll never know what family wasn’t broken up. I’ll never know what 14-year-old daughter of some father won’t miss dance. But what motivates me is knowing that even though I’ll never know the life of someone who was saved because of the work that we do, I know it happened. That’s what keeps me going.
ANNIVERSARIES ARE THINGS you celebrate, so I call it a remembrance—a day to never forget. Every year on February 14, we know where we’re going to be: at the cemetery with Jaime receiving visitors. On the week before and the week of, I clear my schedule of travel. I make sure I’m not going to be anywhere but with my family. There are other families that we’ve really come to rely on for emotional support that we also spend a lot more time talking to.
This year feels different than the other four for a variety of reasons. This is the year where my wife and I realized we have run out of pictures that we haven’t already shared, videos that we haven’t already seen, memories that we haven’t already talked about and thought about. We’re watching all these other kids and Jaime’s friends living the best times of their lives, making all of these amazing new memories. Jaime stopped at 14.
Jaime and Fred.
We’re never going to be able to have new memories with Jaime, but it’s time for us to live. It’s time for us to get back to doing things in life that we haven’t done for five years, like [go on] a vacation. Like genuine, unique laughter over a memory that is about our life going forward and time with our son. The past five years have aged me. I look at pictures and my face looks older. [I have] less hair; it’s grayer. I’m carrying more weight than I should. When focusing on living again, that also involves living healthy. I can’t do anything about the hair, but I want to lose the extra weight. I want to get back to exercise. I haven’t done meaningful exercise in a long time.
This feels like a transition. It’s not letting go of the past in any way, but it’s also a recognition that we have a lot of years left on this Earth and we have to honor our daughter every minute of every day, while also making sure we take care of us and our son and we live. The next five years are going to be a lot less political and a lot more focused on making sure that we’re doing things that really reflect who Jaime was in life.
Paws of Love is, as Guttenberg describes, “the ultimate expression of who Jaime is.” To learn more about the initiative and make a donation, click here.
Deputy Editor
Rachel Epstein is the Deputy Editor at Men’s Health, where she oversees, edits, and assigns content across MensHealth.com. She previously held roles at Marie Claire and Coveteur. Offline, she’s likely watching a Heat game or finding a new coffee shop.
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