Charles Roberts

Nickel Mines, Pa. — As the calendar flipped to 2017, this quiet Amish community found itself quietly revisiting one of the darkest days in its history. Ten years after Charles Roberts stormed into a one-room schoolhouse and opened fire, killing five young girls and wounding others before taking his own life, locals gathered for informal remembrances that mixed grief with a sense of hard-won resilience.

The 2006 attack shook the nation, but it hit Nickel Mines hardest, turning a peaceful farming area into a symbol of unthinkable violence. Roberts, a local truck driver with no clear motive beyond his own unraveling mind, barricaded the school and targeted the children in a rampage that lasted just minutes. It was a stark reminder of how rural life could be upended by sudden horror, and back then, the world watched as Amish families extended forgiveness to Roberts’ widow and kin in an act that drew widespread attention.

Over the years, the community has worked to move forward without forgetting. By early 2017, the original schoolhouse had been torn down and replaced with a new one a few miles away, a subtle sign that life goes on. Neighbors spoke of counseling sessions and support groups that helped families cope, though scars remained. One resident, who asked not to be named, told me it felt like the tragedy was always there, lurking in the background of daily chores and church services.

Still, there’s a quiet strength here that deserves mention. As I talked to folks over coffee in a nearby diner, I couldn’t help but admire how they’ve turned pain into something steadier. While the world has moved on to other headlines, Nickel Mines stands as a place where forgiveness isn’t just talk—it’s how they get through another year. On that first day of 2017, it was clear the story of Charles Roberts wouldn’t define them forever, but it had changed them in ways that run deep.