- I am Kimberly Rubio.
This is Felix Rubio.
We're the parents of Alexandria Aniyah,
best known as Lexi, Rubio and five other children,
who all attended Uvalde public schools
during the 2021-2022 school year --
Kalisa, who completed high school this year;
Isaiah who attended Uvalde High School;
David, Morales Junior High, Jahleela,
Flores Elementary, and our two youngest children,
Julian, 8, and Lexi, 10, who were at Robb Elementary.
On the morning of May 24, 2022, I dropped Lexi
and Julian off at school a little after 7:00 am.
My husband and I returned to the campus at 8:00 am
for Julian's award ceremony and again
at 10:30 am for Lexi's award ceremony.
Lexi received the Good Citizen award
and was also recognized for receiving all A's.
At the conclusion of the ceremony,
we took photos with her before asking her to pose
for a picture with her teacher, Mr.
Reyes.
That photo -- her last photo ever --
was taken at approximately 10:54 am.
To celebrate, we promised to get her ice cream that evening.
We told her we loved her and we would pick her up after school.
I can still see her walking with us toward the exit.
In the reel that keeps scrolling across my memories,
she turns her head and smiles back at us
to acknowledge my promise and then we left.
I left my daughter at that school,
and that decision will haunt me for the rest of my life.
Afterward, Felix dropped me off at my office,
the "Uvalde Leader News," and returned home
because it was a rare day off for him
between normal shifts and security gigs
he takes to help make ends meet.
I got situated at my desk
and began writing about a new business in town
when the news office started hearing commotion
on the police scanner.
A shooting on Diaz Street near Robb Elementary.
It wasn't long before we received word
from my son's teacher that they were safe,
secure in the classroom.
Once evacuated from campus,
the children were reunited with parents
and guardians at the civic center.
My dad picked up Julian from the civic center
and took him to my grandmother's house.
One of our Robb kids was safe.
We focused on finding Lexi.
Bus after bus arrived, but she wasn't on board.
We heard there were children at the local hospital,
so we drove over to provide her description.
She wasn't there.
My dad drove an hour and a half to San Antonio
to check with the university hospital.
At this point, some part of me
must have realized that she was gone.
In the midst of chaos, I had the urge to return to Robb.
We didn't have our car at this point.
Traffic was everywhere, so I ran.
I ran barefoot with my flimsy sandals in my hand.
I ran a mile to the school, my husband with me.
We sat outside for a while before it became clear
we wouldn't receive an answer from law enforcement on scene.
A San Antonio firefighter eventually gave us
a ride back to the civic center,
where the district was asking all families
who had not been reunited with their children to gather.
Soon after, we received the news
that our daughter was among the 19 students and 2 teachers
that died as a result of gun violence.
We don't want you to think of Lexi as just a number.
She was intelligent, compassionate, and athletic.
She was quiet, shy, unless she had a point to make.
When she knew she was right --
she so often was -- she stood her ground.
She was firm, direct, voice unwavering.
So today we stand for Lexi.
And as her voice, we demand action.
We seek a ban on assault rifles and high-capacity magazines.
We understand that, for some reason, to some people,
to people with money, to people who fund political campaigns,
that guns are more important than children.
So at this moment, we ask for progress.
We seek to raise the age to purchase these weapons
from 18 to 21 years of age.
We seek red-flag laws, stronger background checks.
We also want to repeal gun manufacturers' liability
and immunity.
You've all seen glimpses of who Lexi was,
but I also want to tell you a little bit about
who she would have been.
If given the opportunity, Lexi would have made
a positive change in this world.
She wanted to attend St.
Mary's University in San Antonio, Texas,
on a softball scholarship.
She wanted to major in math and go on to attend law school.
That opportunity was taken from her.
She was taken from us.
I'm a reporter, a student, a mom, a runner.
I've read to my children since they were in the womb.
My husband is a law-enforcement officer, an Iraq war veteran.
He loves fishing and our babies.
Somewhere out there, there is a mom
listening to our testimony, thinking,
"I can't even imagine their pain,"
not knowing that our reality will one day be hers
unless we act now.
Thank you for your time.