Jennifer Bowman

Battle Creek Enquirer

Vicki Kopf thought her oldest daughter was gone. Doctors had called a time of death, and she had inquired about the process to donate Abigail's organs.

She sat in the intensive care unit that early Sunday morning, cupping palms with her daughter and stroking Abigail's thumb. Abbie hated holding hands like this, Vicki would later say.

And then Abigail's pinky finger crossed over. Other fingers followed until they all intertwined with her mother's — the way of hand-holding Abigail preferred.

She was alive.

Click here to support Abigail's Fight for Survival by Martha Thawnghmung

Abigail Kopf is the sole survivor of an attack in a suburban Kalamazoo Cracker Barrel restaurant parking lot on Feb. 20. The four women with her were killed. Police say the shooting was part of a spree that night, and that 45-year-old Jason Dalton opened fire at an apartment complex, car dealership and Cracker Barrel.

A total of six people were killed and two, including Abigail, were severely injured.

"I think Abigail has a lot of spitfire in her, and I think she just willed herself back," Vicki said Wednesday afternoon. "Because she was not ready to go yet, and she's got many more things that she wants to do. I don't know if I can say it's a miracle. I think she's just one strong-willed child, that 'I'm not finished yet.' And she's gonna finish what she started."

Abigail is 14, and her mother says she's got the rebellion and mouthiness to prove it. The Harper Creek Middle School seventh-grader loathes homework, even though her parents described her as "extremely smart" with a "quirky personality."

She's close to her 6-year-old sister, Juliana. They play dress-up often. Their mom said despite the eight-year difference, the two girls are close. "They would make all kinds of noise to the point that when it's quiet, we ask what's going on," Vicki said.

"Quiet is bad," Abigail's dad, Gene, added.

The couple sat in the living room of their Post Addition home on Wednesday afternoon. There are photos of the kids covering the walls — a hint of Vicki's past career as a photographer. Abigail's striking bright red hair, styled in a pixie cut, stands out in the color portraits. Her parents say the color comes from both sides of the family.

Eleven days after the shooting, their cat Basil and his begging for catnip serve as a good distraction. Vicki is looking forward to cooking and eating a home-cooked meal.

She talks about Abigail as a baby. She was quiet, slept on her own schedule and ate when she wanted — a problem that persists even now in her teen years, Vicki said.

Abigail's known to be a bit adventurous. She likes climbing trees and as a young child used the top of an old swing set as a balance beam. Her love for sharks meant the odd choice of a bloody-toothed, rubber toy as a toddler. Her love for wolves prompted her to create a website and speak out against proposed wolf-hunting laws in Michigan.

She was introduced to theater and musicals by Barbara Hawthorne, who had no blood relation to Abigail and Juliana but was their grandmother nonetheless. "Grandma Barb" often had tickets to the Barn Theatre and shows at Western Michigan University's Miller Auditorium. She would take Abigail and they'd have a sleepover at Barb's that night.

Gene knew Barbara when he was a teen. Vicki met her when she became her massage therapist during her high-risk pregnancy with Abigail.

"She massaged my tummy and my head when I was pregnant, and we just struck up a beautiful relationship at that point," Vicki said. "When Abigail was about due to come out, we asked her (to be her grandmother) and she said, 'Definitely.'

"She took it on full-fledged. One hundred percent. Never once backed down. She opened up funds for the kids and everything else. No partial grandma."

On the same night Abigail and four family friends watched a show in Kalamazoo and returned to their cars at the Cracker Barrel restaurant in Texas Township, Vicki and Gene and had taken their youngest daughter to the Cracker Barrel in Battle Creek for dinner.

When she returned home, Vicki heard from a family member who told her there was a shooter on the loose in Kalamazoo. Had she heard from Abbie?

Abigail and Barb usually called when they got home from the shows to say good night. Vicki looked at the clock and realized tonight, they hadn't.

They turned on the news. Vicki left messages on Barb's and Abigail's phones. Still nothing.

"At that point, I started to panic," she said. "And I looked over at Gene and I said, 'I don't feel comfortable. I feel uneasy.' At that moment, my phone rang, and it was a social worker at Bronson asking if I was Vicki Kopf."

Vicki said she remembers screaming, asking where Abigail was shot.

"And they told me she was shot in the head and then I asked, 'Is she dead?'"

"I was focused on driving," Gene said of the trip to Kalamazoo's Bronson Methodist Hospital, where Abbie had been taken after being critically injured in the shooting. "I went about 90 and every traffic light I came to, I stopped. I looked. I floored it."

They don't remember much. They noticed at one intersection that the car's clock said it was 12:30 a.m.

And they don't want to talk about what they saw when they got there. Gene only said it was gruesome, and that "no horror movie will ever match it."

Vicki said "it's an image no human being will ever get out of their head."

"And every night, when I close my eyes, that's the image I see," she said, crying. "And I don't know if it will ever fade."

The attack happened upon a return to the parking lot of Cracker Barrel. Abigail, Barb, and three others — Mary Nye, Judy Brown and Mary Jo Nye — had seen a show at Miller Auditorium after dinner and were back in the vehicles they left at Cracker Barrel. They all were shot.

Abigail was the only one who survived. She had been shot once, in the top of her head, with the bullet exiting and shattering the right side of her skull.

She was in the intensive care unit when her parents arrived. Vicki remembers trying to keep up with the chatter between doctors. Family friends had arrived, too.

"She actually coded, and at that point, she had no pulse and her heart stopped," Vicki said. "And as they were pumping and doing their thing, it got even more surreal and again, the horror just got worse. And I ended up screaming 'stop' because I couldn't take it any longer. And Gene couldn't take it any longer."

The doctors called a time of death, she said, and Vicki put her head on her daughter's chest as Gene held Abigail's hand. The doctors and nurses filed out of the room, and quiet replaced the frantic resuscitation work. Three to five minutes later, Vicki told a nurse she thought Abigail was breathing.

It was faint, but Abigail had a heartbeat. The doctors came back, and Abbie was hooked back up on a ventilator. There were fears she might be brain-dead, but doctors told Vicki and Gene there was no way to know until at least a day passed and a series of tests were conducted.

Vicki was confused. "I felt that she was still there, even though they kept telling me she wasn't."

It took six or seven hours before Vicki felt that hand squeeze from Abigail. Doctors had told her that twitching was common as patients faded away. Vicki tried again, this time speaking to her daughter, telling her to squeeze her hand if she could hear.

Abigail's fingers intertwined with her mother's. Vicki pulled her hand away in shock. She tried again, and again, Abigail's intertwined their fingers. She'd later squeeze the hands of a family friend and a doctor.

Vicki said Abbie kept tracing the letter B in the palm of her mother's hand. Gene asked if she was asking about Grandma Barb, and Abigail began urgently slapping her hand. Doctors advised them against telling Abigail what had happened at that point, Vicki said.

Abigail had brain surgery that night. Doctors told her parents that the shattering of her skull on the right side had given room to allow the brain to swell, and may have saved her life.

News coverage of Kalamazoo's mass shooting stretched far beyond the region, attracting national and international attention. At the center was young Abigail, a survivor who had been declared dead by some news media organizations early on and was fighting for her life.

"One of my biggest fears is, how is she going to take all of this when she realizes that this is national? Her story is everywhere and she's basically a miracle kid, and everybody wants to her story," Vicki said. "And if she's able to talk and when she is, people are going to want to hear from her, too. How is she going to handle that?"

Her name originally was not disclosed, and Vicki and Gene did not grant any interviews. They wanted Abigail to be able to recover without the scrutiny — something even a perfectly healthy 14-year-old girl would want to avoid, Gene said.

Two days after the shooting, they spoke to local news media in a press conference after a TV station obtained and reported Abigail's name despite their requests for privacy.

The media attention has been stressful, Vicki said.

"At the time, we wanted Abigail to recupe. It puts a toll on you, mentally and physically. But the prayers and thoughts and everybody wishing her well has been great, and definitely keeps us going."

Parents of Abigail Kopf: 'She did not deserve this'

Gene said they've been out in public since the shooting, and have been recognized by people. Some have paid for their dinners. One night, fed up with hospital food, they went out to eat at a restaurant with a nearly empty parking lot, hoping people wouldn't notice them.

Eventually, someone did, and the manager came and talked with them.

"He was actually, seriously in tears," Gene said. "And suddenly, it took us a while to realize that the ray of sunshine in all of this darkness — the community needs that ray of sunshine. It gives them closure. But it was very hard for us to comprehend at first."

Gene was in his last semester at Western Michigan University, studying for a degree in physics. That's on hold for now as Abigail recovers. He also plans to ask a question at the Democratic debate in Flint this weekend about gun violence.

Vicki said she dreads the day Abbie is near another Cracker Barrel.

"We know what Gene and I feel like whenever we go near one," she said. "We drove today and I just had a slight anxiety issue — we were on the highway and all I saw was the billboard."

In addition to the Cracker Barrel attack, 53-year-old Richard Smith and his 17-year-old son, Tyler, were gunned down at a car dealership. Tiana Carruthers, 25, who reportedly blocked children from the gunman, survived being shot multiple times at a Richland Township apartment complex and remains in the hospital, Kalamazoo County Sheriff Richard Fuller told the Kalamazoo Gazette Thursday morning.

Dalton faces six charges of open murder, two counts of assault with intent to murder and eight counts of use of a firearm in the commission of a felony. He has been ordered to undergo a mental competency evaluation, Kalamazoo County Prosecutor Jeffrey Getting said Thursday morning.

Jason Dalton to undergo mental competency evaluation

Abigail's parents say they don't care about Dalton, although Vicki said her heart goes out to his wife and children.

"I had a few days of anger," Gene said. "I just don't want to hold onto anger. It's not worth it. Anger destroys your life. I have better things to live for. Anger won't do me any good."

A week after the shooting, Abigail was upgraded to serious condition. She was upgraded again just a few days later to fair condition.

Vicki said Abbie opened her eyes Tuesday and recognized her parents. On Wednesday, she was able to walk with some assistance and got close to crossing her legs during physical therapy.

She also stroked a nurse's ponytail, Vicki said.

She's only had the one brain surgery immediately after the shooting. She'll have a minor surgery again this week to have a feeding port installed in her stomach. Months down the road, she's expected to have a plastic plate installed where her skull shattered.

Abbie's expected to be transferred to Mary Free Bed Rehabilitation Hospital next week. The family has asked through a GoFundMe page if someone can loan or donate a reliable car for their daily trips to Grand Rapids.

They're expecting a "brutal" rehabilitation, Gene said, but doctors told them they have seen full recoveries from worse brain trauma patients.

"With a little rehab, she'll be very close to functional, if not entirely functional, with no serious repercussions."

Gene said he doesn't know if he'd describe Abigail's survival as a miracle. He does know that doctors, nurses and first responders worked very hard to keep her alive.

"I'm always a little dubious of the word 'miracle.' Because you can say miracle — what does that mean? Most people tend to use that as an argument from ignorance. We can't explain it, therefore it's a miracle.

"Fortunate? Absolutely."

They've told Juliana about Grandma Barb's death. Abigail still doesn't know.

"At some point when Abbie is able and functioning and a lot healthier," Vicki said, "it'll be the day that I'm going to regret, but I'm going to have to tell her the same thing."

They don't want to talk hopes just yet, but they're looking forward to when Abbie will start talking.

"I would rather have attitude, and mouth, and sass and spunk than nothing at all. I would welcome an argument with her," Vicki said, laughing.

"I'm sure you're gonna get plenty of that," Gene said.

Vicki responded, "And that's OK. To take something like this, I think I would beg for an argument with her right now."

Contact Jennifer Bowman 269-966-0589 or jbowman@battlecreekenquirer.com. Follow her on Twitter: @jenn_bowman