In the wake of one of Canada’s most heartbreaking mass shootings, a fragile beacon of hope flickers in the intensive care unit of BC Children’s Hospital in Vancouver. Twelve-year-old Maya Gebala, the brave girl who rushed to lock the library door at Tumbler Ridge Secondary School on February 10, 2026, in a desperate bid to shield her classmates from a rampaging shooter, remains in critical condition. Shot in the head and neck, Maya has endured emergency surgeries, medically induced comas, and moments where her family braced for the worst. Yet, as of February 21, 2026, her mother, Cia Edmonds, shares emotional updates that blend profound grief with tentative optimism: clearer movements in her left hand, reduced brain swelling, and subtle signs of responsiveness. But Cia choked back tears in her latest post, admitting, “She still can’t breathe on her own fully.” Amid these incremental victories, details of Maya’s “weak whispers”—faint, breathy sounds that her family interprets as her spirit reaching out—have moved thousands to tears, symbolizing the faint hope sustaining a shattered family and community.
The tragedy that thrust Maya into the national spotlight began in the remote northeastern British Columbia town of Tumbler Ridge, a former coal-mining hub of about 2,400 residents surrounded by the majestic Rocky Mountains. On that fateful Tuesday afternoon, 18-year-old Jesse Van Rootselaar allegedly initiated a deadly rampage, first at her family home where she fatally shot her mother, Jennifer Strang (also known as Jennifer Jacobs), and 11-year-old half-brother, Emmett Jacobs. Armed with multiple firearms, including an unregistered shotgun, Van Rootselaar then drove to Tumbler Ridge Secondary School. There, she targeted the library, where Grade 7 students, including Maya, had gathered for what should have been a safe, ordinary school activity.
Chaos erupted as gunshots rang out. Students and staff scrambled to barricade doors with desks and chairs, following lockdown protocols drilled into them. In that terrifying moment, Maya displayed heroism far beyond her years. According to survivor accounts and family statements, she sprinted toward the library door, attempting to secure it despite a reportedly malfunctioning lock. “She ran toward danger to protect her friends,” her father, David Gebala, later recounted in an emotional interview. This selfless act likely saved lives, buying precious seconds for classmates to hide under tables or in corners. Tragically, it exposed Maya to direct fire; bullets struck her head and neck, causing catastrophic injuries including brain trauma, bleeding, and swelling.
The shooter continued her assault, killing five children: Able Mwansa, Kylie Smith, Zoey Benoit, Ticaria Lampert (all 12), and 13-year-old Ezekiel Schofield. Also slain was 39-year-old education assistant Shannda Aviugana-Durand, with another victim found in a stairwell. Van Rootselaar died by suicide as RCMP officers closed in, ending the horror but leaving a community in ruins. In total, nine people perished, including the shooter, and 27 were injured—making it one of the deadliest school shootings in Canadian history.
Maya was airlifted to BC Children’s Hospital, where a team of neurosurgeons and intensive care specialists fought to save her life. Initial prognoses were dire: doctors induced a coma to manage severe brain swelling and internal bleeding, warning the family that she might not survive the first night. Bullet fragments and a lodged bullet in her neck complicated matters, with risks of infection, further bleeds, or neurological shutdown looming. Cia’s early updates on social media and the family’s GoFundMe page—launched by cousin Krysta Hunt and now exceeding $420,000 in donations—captured the raw despair: “We were warned that the damage to her brain was too much for her to endure… Our baby needs a miracle.”
As days blurred into a vigil, small miracles emerged. By Day 4 post-shooting (February 14), Maya began initiating her own breaths, with slight eye dilation noted—a positive sign of neurological activity. David and Cia shared this in a joint update: “She has started to initiate her own breaths & there is also a slight dilation in her eye, these are very positive signs so far.” Voluntary movements followed: a kick in response to stimuli, hand motions, and leg shifts on her left side. These developments shifted her care from end-of-life preparations—where organ donation discussions had heartbreakingly occurred—to a recovery-focused phase.
The latest updates, as of February 19-20, paint a picture of cautious progress amid persistent challenges. Sedation has been fully lifted, allowing brief awake periods where Maya exhibits clearer left-hand movements—lifting against gravity with more purpose. Brain swelling has reduced significantly following surgery to repair a bleed, enabling doctors to lower ventilator pressure as she takes occasional breaths independently. “Every single day, you show us just how strong, determined, and incredible you truly are. You continue to defy every expectation,” David wrote on the GoFundMe on February 18. Weak eye fluttering sometimes tracks voices or light, though her eyes do not yet react fully to stimuli, raising concerns about vision. A faint cough—described by Cia as a “miracle moment”—signals her body’s efforts to clear airways.
Yet, the road is fraught. Doctors liken her injuries to a severe stroke: no movement on her right side, potentially permanent due to the bullet’s path tearing through the left brain hemisphere and affecting the brainstem. “The doctors say it is similar to a stroke and will never come back,” Cia shared in a February 17 update. Maya remains ventilator-dependent for full breathing support, with fragments still lodged in her brain and a bullet in her neck monitored without immediate removal to avoid risks. Fluid in her lungs and the threat of plateauing progress weigh heavily. Cia choked back tears in a video post: “She still can’t breathe on her own… There is still a bullet in her. There are still shards in her brain.” These words underscore the faint hope—a delicate balance where every whisper of improvement is celebrated, but setbacks loom.
The “weak whispers” that have evoked such emotion refer to subtle, breathy sounds Maya has made—soft exhalations or murmurs during moments of responsiveness. In one poignant account, as Cia massaged her daughter’s feet and sang softly, Maya emitted faint noises that her mother interpreted as “weak whispers” of presence: “My baby is in there… those little whispers tugged at every string in my heart.” Shared on social media and the GoFundMe, these details have gone viral, inspiring hashtags like #PrayForMaya and #TumblerStrong. Supporters worldwide send cards, letters, and gifts to her hospital room (Unit 304, 827 W 16th St, North Vancouver, BC V7P 1R2), which Cia reads aloud, believing the positive energy aids recovery.
Maya’s family draws strength from unexpected connections. On February 19, David met with Abel Mwansa Sr., father of slain 12-year-old Able Mwansa, during a hospital visit. “We encouraged one another,” Abel Sr. said, highlighting shared grief and resilience. This meeting, amid plans for Able’s funeral in Zambia, underscores the interconnected pain rippling through Tumbler Ridge.
Compounding the emotional strain, Cia reported a cruel theft: someone sliced open her truck’s tonneau cover and stole Maya’s paddle board, possibly golf clubs too. “To steal from a family in such a vulnerable time… it’s heartbreaking,” she posted, yet focused on gratitude for support.
Maya, nicknamed “Maya Moon” for her luminous spirit, was an active child who loved hockey, outdoor adventures, and family. Her parents, Cia and David, have roots in the region, embodying the town’s rugged independence. They express compassion even for the shooter’s surviving siblings—two younger brothers now orphaned—urging donations to their GoFundMe, recognizing universal victimhood.
Other survivors offer glimmers of healing. Nineteen-year-old Paige Hoekstra, shot in the chest, was discharged on February 16 and returned home, her recovery a testament to medical miracles. Twelve-year-old Maddy Mansky, who hid in a bathroom for hours, shares her story of survival.
Tumbler Ridge endures collective trauma. The school remains closed, with portable classrooms incoming and counseling ramped up. Vigils, including one attended by Prime Minister Mark Carney, honor victims with candles, flowers, and prayers. Fundraisers exceed $3 million across victims’ pages. Nationally, the incident reignites debates on gun control—despite Canada’s strict laws—and mental health access in rural areas. Investigations probe how Van Rootselaar accessed weapons and her mental state, with RCMP having visited the home multiple times prior.
For the Gebalas, faith and global solidarity fuel perseverance. Neurosurgeons nationwide review Maya’s case, potentially unlocking new treatments. Cia’s pleas—”We cannot stop now, we have so far to go”—inspire continued prayers. As Maya fights with clearer left-hand movements and reduced swelling, her “weak whispers” remind us of life’s tenacity. In this faint hope lies a powerful narrative: a 12-year-old’s courage, a mother’s unyielding love, and a community’s unbreakable bond.
