University gunman’s eerie words revealed.
Madison Askins was on her way to grab lunch when the unthinkable happened—gunshots cracked through the air, sending students at Florida State University into chaos.
University shooting incident explained.
The gunfire erupted just before noon on Thursday, transforming a regular afternoon into a waking nightmare for students and staff alike.
Authorities say the shooter, Phoenix Ikner, was a student at FSU. He used a handgun reportedly owned by his stepmother, a sheriff’s deputy.
The weapon, a former law enforcement-issued handgun, had been purchased for personal use, officials confirmed.
Students described the first shots erupting outside, then chaos as the attacker stormed into the busy union full of lunch-hour crowds.
Known for its bustling food court and student offices, the union quickly became the center of terror for hundreds of unsuspecting students.
Law enforcement arrived on the scene within minutes, possibly preventing further casualties.
Victims of tragic shooting identified.
Robert Morales, an FSU dining coordinator, and Tiru Chabba, 45, a regional VP for Aramark, were killed in the attack, their families confirmed Friday.
Morales also coached at Leon High School. He was a familiar and trusted figure for many students both past and present.
Chabba was a key figure in Aramark Collegiate Hospitality, the vendor behind FSU’s dining services—his loss leaves a major void.
Aftermath of shooting clarified.
FSU President Richard McCullough led a vigil Friday, calling the tragedy “something that shouldn’t happen—here or anywhere.”
Dozens gathered, holding candles and photos of the victims. Some sang. Most simply wept.
Classes were suspended. Mental health teams were dispatched. But the shock hadn’t worn off by Friday evening.
Ikner, 20, was a lesser-known student with no prior record of violence, officials say. But those close to him say signs were missed.
According to former classmates, Ikner had withdrawn from social life in recent months, becoming increasingly isolated.
His stepmother’s role in law enforcement is now under review. Investigators are probing how he gained access to her weapon.
Critics are asking whether the handgun, once a service weapon, should have been stored more securely.
The story quickly went viral, with hashtags like #FSUStrong and #KeepRunning appearing across platforms.
Shooter’s words unveiled.
Askins, a grad student in urban and regional planning, was struck in the buttocks as she fled with a friend outside the school’s student union building.
After falling a second time, she decided to “play dead,” hoping the shooter wouldn’t notice her. But he did.
“I remember him saying, ‘Yeah, keep running,’” Askins later told reporters, recounting the haunting moment she realized the shooter was right behind her.
“I started to spiral a little bit,” she said, remembering her instinct to call her parents goodbye—until she realized the shooter was hovering above her.
Still on the ground, Askins said she couldn’t move. The shooter’s presence was too close, too real. She just waited.
“I heard him reload,” Askins said. “There was a clip at my feet when everything was said and done.”
A responding officer reached Askins, packed her wound, and stood watch over her, refusing to leave her side as danger loomed.
Doctors later told her it was safer to leave the bullet in for now. Her response? “This gunshot wound is nothing to me in the grand scheme of things.”
Several students now echo the same chilling words shouted by the shooter: “Keep running.”
“I hadn’t cried once about the wound,” Askins shared. Her real fear was never seeing her family again.
“I just want people to understand how fast it happened,” she said. “You don’t have time to think.”
The investigation continues.
Doctors opted to leave the bullet in for now. Askins is recovering and already talking about returning to school.
The university community now finds itself asking how to heal, how to prevent the next headline.
As investigators work to piece together what led to the shooting, FSU students continue to gather—lighting candles, sharing stories, and refusing to forget.