An American tragedy turns KC Chiefs’ parade into day of mourning in Kansas City

As the Chiefs’ Super Bowl parade embarked from Sixth and Grand toward Union Station on a gorgeous spring-like Valentine’s Day morning, the prevailing scenes were idyllic.

Even among hundreds of thousands of people, even amid revelry fueled by alcohol and despite some loutish behavior, an abiding innocence also stood out.

A hundred yards or so from the route in Crown Center, some dozen or more children of various ages, shapes, sizes and colors — mostly wearing No. 15 or No. 87 jerseys — played a pickup football game.

Baby strollers were all over, and about anywhere you looked youngsters climbed on the shoulders of parents for the best view possible. There were some good dogs to be seen nearby, and some so-called Swifties and an incredible team to be celebrated.

Maybe most of all, there was a vibe in this bubbly and diverse crowd that said everything is right in this little haven of the world ... even if for just a little while.

Then right at the crescendo, with the Chiefs just finishing on stage, it became our own version of the day the music died.

The day and even this golden time in Kansas City was shattered in an all-too-familiar American tale that finally, almost inevitably, descended on us: the never-ending cycle of shots fired by lunatics and mass casualties and terrified throngs scrambling for safety and the chilling sound of endless sirens.

As we write this Wednesday evening, The Star reported that one victim had been confirmed dead and 21 others shot while it remained unclear if there may be more.

Nine children, ages 6 to 15, were among those shot.

And while all those children were expected to recover, maybe that’s the most haunting part in a country where even the horror of Sandy Hook wasn’t enough to change a thing.

It’s utter madness that this somehow keeps being treated merely as the cost of living in America.

“Kids are being shot and somebody didn’t come home tonight,” Chiefs safety Justin Reid posted on X, the former Twitter. “We cannot allow this to be normal. We cannot (allow) ourselves to become numb and chalk it up to ‘just another shooting in America” and reduce people to statistics and then move on (to tomorrow).

“This is a SERIOUS PROBLEM!! I pray our leaders enact real solutions so our kids’ kids won’t know this violence.”

It’s hard to believe that someday will ever come.

But the kids learned about it in an entirely new way here on Wednesday.

In an eerie scene at the Westin Hotel, catty-corner to Union Station, hundreds of people watching the parade out the hotel windows were left looking over a crime scene turned into a veritable military operation.

Similarly, in the abrupt chaotic twist, the world spotlight on Kansas City shifted focus from the glory of the Chiefs to the gory and crushing human toll.

Every one of them with a name and a story and families that now face unfathomable trauma … because they dared go to a parade guarded by 850 law enforcement officers.

Just like that.

“I heard shots ringing out,” Jennifer Wilbers, from Jefferson City said, “and then we looked over and there was somebody laying there. … The people that got shot were right beside us.”

But you didn’t have to be wounded or see a victim to feel the agony.

Among those nearby were Dana Brady and her 14-year-old daughter, Madison, who flew in from New Hampshire for the parade.

They had left the side of the stage at Union Station to catch an Uber when they heard screams and saw a woman crying as a crowd ran toward them.

“So I just put my arms around my daughter, and we pushed through the crowd and we got to the gated area (of Union Station) …” said Dana Brady, who grew up in Kansas City. “People were helping everybody over the gates, so we could get inside, and then we ran inside. And there were people crying because somebody had been shot. …

“We were standing in there calming down because we were finally indoors, (and) we went into a corridor area where we thought we would be safe when suddenly people started running again.”

More shots were being fired, and Madison heard “keep running, keep running, keep running.”

A janitor told them to take refuge inside a door by an elevator, where they sat and heard yelling they didn’t know what to make of.

Finally, after about 15 minutes, they fled out a side door and saw police everywhere and were told to shelter in place. When they left some 45 minutes to an hour after the ordeal began, their sense of dread was still apparent.

I don’t believe I’ll ever forget the petrified look on Madison’s face.

“It’s terrifying, because my daughter is with me,” Dana Brady said. “So all I did was wrap my arms around her. Because if something was going to happen it was going to happen to me. Not her.”

Shocking as it was, the evil and sadness of this day can’t really be considered a surprise anymore.

There’s no end in sight to this insanity, we all know, because these unending attacks on human rights matter less than preserving gun rights to those who could enact change.

So you could only wonder when it might explode here as it did on Wednesday, when we became international news for entirely different reasons than the way the day began.

When we went from unbridled joy to mourning, especially for the direct victims but also for a city itself wounded.

And when our children were taught anew that nowhere is safe.

With no end in sight.