“DAD, THERE’S A STRANGER APPEARING…” Twelve-year-old Abel Mwansa — the brave boy who helped his friends amidst the chaos at Tumbler Ridge Secondary Library — is remembered by his father as someone who “always thought of others” and dreamed of becoming a scientist. 😢 The family still cherishes memories of his radiant smile… but the details Abel’s father recounts about his final moments will bring tears to your eyes 👇
In the small, close-knit community of Tumbler Ridge, British Columbia, where mountains tower and winters bite hard, February 10, 2026, dawned like any other school day—until it didn’t. Twelve-year-old Abel Mwansa Jr., a bright, inquisitive boy with an infectious ear-to-ear smile, left home that morning full of excitement for seventh grade and the simple joys of being with friends. He never came back. Abel was one of five students fatally shot in the library of Tumbler Ridge Secondary School during one of Canada’s deadliest mass shootings in recent history. His father, Abel Mwansa Sr., now carries the unbearable weight of memories that will forever be tinged with grief, sharing stories of a son who “always thought of others” and dreamed big—of becoming a scientist, an engineer, a leader who could change the world.
Abel Mwansa Jr. was born in Zambia, where his family roots run deep. His father, a pastor, and his mother cherished him as their firstborn, naming him after himself in a gesture of profound pride and love. “It happened that we had a boy and I was just so excited,” Abel Sr. recalled in interviews. “I ended up giving him my name.” The family moved to Canada in March 2023, seeking better opportunities through a mining job in the remote northern town. Abel adapted quickly—losing his Zambian accent in just three months, embracing the snow, soccer fields, and school routines with enthusiasm. He loved experiments, church, greeting people with warmth, and playing on the under-13 soccer team, where coaches remember him as patient, kind, respectful, and always ready with a smile.
Friends and community members describe Abel as selfless. “He was everybody’s child,” said Pastor Christopher Bwalya, a former colleague of Abel Sr. from their time in Solwezi, Zambia. Even as a young boy in Sunday school, Abel showed leadership and responsibility. In Tumbler Ridge, that same spirit shone through. A close family friend, Lydia Mannion, shared how Abel was “helping his friends” during the chaos in the library that day—likely trying to shield or guide others amid the terror. Survivors’ accounts paint a picture of panic as 18-year-old Jesse Van Rootselaar entered the school after killing her mother, Jennifer Strang (also known as Jennifer Jacobs), and 11-year-old half-brother Emmett at home. In the library, where Grade 7 students had gathered, the gunman opened fire. Abel, ever the one to think of others, didn’t hide first; he acted to protect.
The moment that haunts his father most is the last goodbye. Abel Sr. recounted in emotional interviews how he watched his son leave for school with that radiant, wide smile lighting up his face. “Whenever you saw him, you saw his smile,” he said, voice breaking. Abel loved school so much that when his father once suggested homeschooling, the boy cried—he wanted to be with his friends, to learn, to grow. In one heartbreaking reflection, Abel Sr. spoke of a recent dinner outing captured on video: Abel playing on his phone, then looking up to flash that signature grin. “I’ll miss everything about Abel,” his father said. He envisioned a future where his son would surpass him—”If he lived to my age, he would have been greater than me.” Those words, shared publicly as the family grieves, capture the depth of loss: not just a child gone, but a bright future extinguished.
The call came like a nightmare. Abel Sr. learned of the shooting at the school and rushed to confirm his son’s fate. In one account, he described the devastating confirmation: authorities asking if he was Abel Mwansa, then confirming his son shared the name—and was among the victims. The pain rippled across continents. In Zambia, 14,000 kilometers away, friends and former parishioners gathered for a celebration of life at City of Grace Chapel, where Abel once attended Sunday school. Pastor Bwalya received the 4 a.m. call from Abel Sr., learning his “sometimes mischievous” kindergarten boy had grown into a respectful young man whose promise was stolen too soon.
Abel was laid to rest plans shifted toward burial in Zambia, his father finding some solace in returning his son to their ancestral soil. “At peace to have my son buried in my country,” Abel Sr. said, preparing amid unimaginable sorrow. A GoFundMe launched by community members in Tumbler Ridge has raised funds to support the family—Abel leaves behind his grieving parents, sister Shakainah, and baby brother Jasail—helping with expenses as they navigate funeral costs, travel, and the void left behind.
The tragedy claimed eight lives in total: Abel Mwansa Jr., 12; Ezekiel Schofield, 13; Kylie Smith, 12; Zoey Benoit, 12; Ticaria Lampert, 12; education assistant Shannda Aviugana-Durand, 39; and the shooter’s mother Jennifer Strang and half-brother Emmett Jacobs at home. Twenty-seven others were injured, including survivors like Maya Gebala, who fought for her life in hospital after heroic actions of her own. The shooter died by suicide as police arrived.
In Tumbler Ridge—a town of about 2,400 where everyone knows everyone—vigils have filled the nights with candles and shared stories. Portable classrooms are arriving to resume lessons safely, but the scars remain. Abel’s soccer coach vows to keep telling his story, ensuring the boy’s kindness and curiosity live on. National conversations turn to school safety, mental health in remote areas, and gun access, even under Canada’s strict laws.
For Abel Mwansa Sr., the grief is quiet yet shattering. He clings to memories of that radiant smile, the way Abel greeted everyone with genuine care, his dreams of science and discovery. “Dad, there’s a stranger appearing…”—words that might echo in nightmares, imagined or real, in the chaos Abel faced. But in every tribute, his father’s voice rings clear: Abel was a boy who thought of others first, right to the end. His light, though dimmed too soon, continues to inspire a community refusing to let tragedy define it. Rest in peace, Abel Mwansa Jr. You were loved deeply, and you mattered immeasurably.
