DENVER — Adriana Vance composed herself as she addressed reporters, marking two years since her son fell victim to a mass shooting at an LGBTQ+ nightclub in Colorado Springs. In the aftermath of this tragic event, lawsuits have been filed, suggesting that legal authorities and the club’s management failed to take preventative measures that could have averted the attack.
The two lawsuits, unveiled at a news conference on Tuesday, target the owners of Club Q for allegedly lacking adequate security measures. They also hold El Paso County officials and the former sheriff accountable for neglecting to apply the state’s red flag law despite evident warning signs that the shooter was poised to carry out violent actions.
One of the club’s owners has rejected these allegations, while El Paso County has chosen not to comment on the matter. The shooter, Anderson Aldrich, took the lives of five individuals at the venue, including Vance’s son, who was just 22 years old. In her emotional tribute, Vance struggled to accept her son’s death after the harrowing incident.
“Others might have someone else’s son, but they won’t have my Raymond,” Vance expressed, holding back tears. “My Raymond, he’s going to call.” She vividly recounted the moment she saw her son lying in his coffin, seemingly at peace. “I touched him and I kissed his cold body,” she shared. “After that day, I woke up terrified, and even now, I still feel a fraction of that fright.”
During the press event, survivors described the lingering effects of that traumatic night—spontaneous panic triggered by loud noises, the physical agony of bullets still embedded in survivors, and the deep isolation that comes from living with such enduring trauma. One of the lawsuits was put forth by survivor Barrett Hudson, while the other encompasses several victims and their families, including Vance.
The deceased from the shooting included Raymond Green Vance, Kelly Loving, Daniel Aston, Derrick Rump, and Ashley Paugh. Families of the victims allege that in the lead-up to the tragedy, Club Q reduced its security personnel from five to a mere one, failing to implement essential precautions to avert incidents like this.
“Club Q presented itself as a ‘safe space’ for LGBTQIA+ individuals, but that was merely an illusion,” stated both lawsuits, which cite negligence and other failures on the part of the club’s management. Although Club Q’s management did not promptly provide a commented response, co-owner Matthew Haynes denied all allegations, attributing the real blame to Aldrich and the “system that allows easy access to weaponry.”
Haynes expressed the widespread grief following this tragedy, acknowledging its lasting impact on everyone involved. A crucial part of both lawsuits highlighted a political resistance from El Paso County officials and the former sheriff against Colorado’s red flag law instituted in 2019. This law enables law enforcement to confiscate firearms from individuals deemed dangerous to themselves or others.
The county officials viewed the red flag law as a threat to gun rights and pledged to actively oppose it, as revealed in court documents. Aldrich had previously faced arrest in 2021 on charges of kidnapping and making threats to his grandparents, indicating a potential for violence even before the nightclub incident.
According to the lawsuits, law enforcement did not utilize the red flag law to seize Aldrich’s weapons, facilitating his continued access to firearms and, thus, enabling the attack on Club Q. These lawsuits bring forth claims of negligence and wrongful death against both the former sheriff, Bill Elder, and the El Paso County commissioners. Efforts to contact Elder for comment went unanswered.
El Paso County’s spokesperson, Natalie Sosa, stated that the county does not comment on ongoing legal matters. The trauma from that fateful night continues to impact survivors profoundly, including Ashtin Gamblin, who described how fireworks at a concert triggered her to flee in fear, and Charlene Slaugh, who recounted weeping herself to sleep on various nights.
“I remember what it was like to fear for my survival,” Slaugh reflected, a sentiment echoed by other survivors. “These memories don’t just fade; they have become integral to who I am now.”
