“I was listening to the news all yesterday,” John Barnes said Wednesday, the day after the Uvalde massacre. “I’m just sad. Just really sad. I don’t understand why people think this can’t happen to them.”
It’s been four years since Santa Fe; years of doctors appointments, visits with therapists. He spent many months recovering from the brain trauma he suffered after being shot and losing so much blood; he spent hundreds of hours working to regain the use of his right arm.
He found a new job, and has tried to move on. But each shooting brings him back to that awful day.
“I don’t understand why people won’t put two and two together,” he said. “We need to do something.”
Survivors of school shootings bring their own perspectives to how to address future fatalities; for Barnes, the answer is simple: The only way it stops is when someone with a gun stops them.
John Barnes talks about his tattoo and surgical scars Tuesday, May 24, 2022, at a truck yard in Pasadena. Barnes is a former police officer who was injured in 2018 during a mass shooting at Santa Fe High School.
Jon Shapley, Houston Chronicle / Staff photographer
“I wish there had been someone in that hallway with a gun.” he said. “People have to decide to spend money on security, or decide to arm teachers. That should be the first step.”
He couldn’t help but think back to the ordeal Santa Fe suffered; the anger he felt at reporters, wanting space for the other families of that community.
“I don’t know a more terrible day that someone could have than that,” he said. “I feel really bad for the families; for the onslaught they’re going to have to endure.”
In the aftermath of every shooting, people talk about guns, he said, but not enough about mental health. He wondered why there haven’t been changes to laws to make it easier to commit people who are potential dangers to themselves and others.
“Obviously all these guys are not right,” he said. “We have to give ourselves a chance, and not sit back and wait.”
A new life
Barnes had spent decades dealing with Houston traffic: as a police officer on patrol, as a homeowner and resident, and later, as a school resource officer down at Santa Fe ISD’s high School.
But that didn’t stop the nerves during a recent trip through Chicago, where he found himself in bumper-to-bumper traffic. In his white Chevy Suburban, he wouldn’t have thought much about it. This time, though, he was in a 14,000-pound, bright red Kenworth T-680, a mighty trailer in tow.
“It was very intimidating at first,” he said, chuckling.
John Barnes lights a cigar before starting his day as a long-haul truck driver Tuesday, May 24, 2022, at a truck yard in Pasadena. Barnes is a former police officer who was injured in 2018 during a mass shooting at Santa Fe High School. He underwent surgeries and physical therapy for a gunshot wound to his right arm.
Jon Shapley, Houston Chronicle / Staff photographer
Trucking has been an unexpected second act for Barnes. After his retirement from HPD in 2017, he planned to work for the Santa Fe ISD police department. It was supposed to be an easy job. But four years ago, a troubled student walked into school with a shotgun and pistol and begin firing. He killed 10 students and teachers and wounded more.
Barnes, one of the first officers to respond and attempt to stop the shooting, took a shotgun blast to his right elbow. The marble-sized pellets shredded arteries and shattered bone, leaving Barnes stunned as blood spewed from his arm as if from a garden hose.
He likely would have died without the quick thinking of another officer, Gary Forward, who threw a tourniquet on the wound to help slow the bleeding.
He spent 33 days in the hospital, but recovery took much longer.
John Barnes runs through his pre-trip check before starting his day as a long-haul truck driver Tuesday, May 24, 2022, at a truck yard in Pasadena. Barnes is a former police officer who was injured in 2018 during a mass shooting at Santa Fe High School.
Jon Shapley, Houston Chronicle / Staff photographer
For years after the blast, Barnes struggled to regain use of his elbow and overcome brain trauma he suffered because of all the blood he lost. He juggled doctor’s appointments and physical therapy sessions. During the day, he frequently spent time at a local cigar club, smoking stogies and sipping whiskey. He soon grew restless.
He and his family could have survived on his wife’s salary and his pension. But he’d never intended to retire at age 49, and he wasn’t ready to stop working.
“It’s not about surviving,” he said, choking up slightly. “It’s about feeling like I can do something (to help my family.) This is something I can do for a long time — or as long as my arm will hold out.”
Late last year, he began thinking about what he could still do, given his injured arm. He thought back to road trips as a kid, the multi-state trips from Texas to Wyoming. He’d always enjoyed seeing the towns they’d driven through, wondering about the people who lived there and what they were like.
He spoke to his wife, Ashley Speed Barnes.
John Barnes runs through his pre-trip check before starting his day as a long-haul truck driver Tuesday, May 24, 2022, at a truck yard in Pasadena. Barnes is a former police officer who was injured in 2018 during a mass shooting at Santa Fe High School.
Jon Shapley, Houston Chronicle / Staff photographer
John Barnes smiles as he gets into the cab of his truck before leaving for a trip as a long-haul truck driver Tuesday, May 24, 2022, at a truck yard in Pasadena. Barnes is a former police officer who was injured in 2018 during a mass shooting at Santa Fe High School.
Jon Shapley, Houston Chronicle / Staff photographer
John Barnes smiles as he gets into the cab of his truck before leaving for a trip as a long-haul truck driver Tuesday, May 24, 2022, at a truck yard in Pasadena.
She didn’t mind.
Both of their kids, Luke and Riley, were teenagers, independent and increasingly interested in spending time with friends or on after-school activities.
And the pay wasn’t bad, he discovered — about what he might make as a civilian investigator, but with more flexibility.
He signed up to go to trucking school with J&R Schugel, a 48-year-old Minnesota-based company that fields some 700 trucks and more than 2,000 tractor trailers.
He worried the brain injury might stop him from passing the physical, but company officials told him not to worry. He was still nervous though, wondering if 11-hour days behind the wheel would be too much for his damaged arm.
John Barnes says goodbye to his son Luke before he leaves on a trip as a long-haul truck driver Tuesday, May 24, 2022, at a truck yard in Pasadena. Barnes is a former police officer who was injured in 2018 during a mass shooting at Santa Fe High School.
Jon Shapley, Houston Chronicle / Staff photographer
And he worried about driving the trucks — 14,000 pound behemoths even before adding the 53-foot trailers that are ubiquitous across the continental United States.
“When there’s not a trailer attached, it’s no big deal,” he said. “When you put that 53-foot trailer on there, it gets intimidating.”
He spent six weeks driving with a trainer, however, and those fears soon faded. He has spent hundreds of hours crisscrossing the United States so far, barreling through Georgia and North Dakota and New York, where he stopped to watch the roaring cascades of Niagara Falls.
Life on the road
Barnes, a bearded 53-year-old, whiled away the time behind the wheel listening to talk radio and yacht rock. There were some surprises: On a diet of salads, cereal bars and beef jerky, he dropped 12 pounds in just a few weeks.
The truck stop showers, surprisingly, weren’t bad. And he found that he enjoyed the rest stops that dot the nation’s highways — finding a quiet place to stop and relax. He spends a couple of weeks on the road and a few days with family.
The nomadic lifestyle and time away from isn’t for everyone, J&R Schugel spokewoman Courtney Antonsen said
“It’s hard work and a lot of sacrifice,” she said.
Barnes is still just getting used to the gig, and he doesn’t know how long this second act will last.
But right now, he’s enjoying it — the long hauls, a new way to support his wife and kids, and the adventures that come behind the wheel; the trips to different pockets of the country that he would otherwise never see.
John Barnes gets into the cab of his tractor-trailer before leaving on a trip as a long-haul truck driver Tuesday, May 24, 2022, at a truck yard in Pasadena. Barnes is a former police officer who was injured in 2018 during a mass shooting at Santa Fe High School. He underwent surgeries and physical therapy for a gunshot wound to his right arm.
Jon Shapley, Houston Chronicle / Staff photographer
“I’ve already been to Niagara Falls,” he said. “I’ve covered half the U.S. and I’ve only been doing trucking for two months.”
On Tuesday, Barnes and his son, Luke, drove out to a lot in Pasadena to head out on his next long haul — transporting goods from Baytown to Winona, Minnesota. It would be a two-day trip under the best of circumstances, but he guessed it would probably be a three day trip before he arrived.
Just after 8 a.m., he loaded his truck with a cooler of ice, piling clothes and other supplies in the bunk bed in the rear of the cabin.
He grabbed some gloves, before lowering the hood of the tractor trailer to add some oil and check his fluid levels.
“I don’t know how anybody drives these,” Luke said, as he watched his dad work. For 18-year-old Luke, driving his white Altima is scary enough.
John Barnes before he leaves on a trip as a long-haul truck driver Tuesday, May 24, 2022, at a truck yard in Pasadena. Barnes is a former police officer who was injured in 2018 during a mass shooting at Santa Fe High School.
Jon Shapley, Houston Chronicle / Staff photographer
As his dad prepared for the next drive, his son thought back on everything that’s transpired since the 2018 shooting. He has not forgotten the terror of that moment, or the fear and worry for his dad.
“It’s always going to be traumatic,” he said. “But my dad’s alive, and he can have a conversation with me. That’s all I can ask for.”
He passed his dad some supplies and then the two embraced.
Barnes pulled himself up into the cab, lit a cigar, then reached down and turned the key in the ignition.
The engine growled to life and Barnes shifted into gear, ready for his next long haul.
The Uvalde school massacre
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