The Texts I’ll Never Forget (and the Work That Followed)

In 2018, I was asleep when I got a message from a friend: “Shooting at Borderline.” Half-asleep, I replied, “Great! That’s awesome!” I thought he meant they were filming a commercial—something totally normal for that bar. His next message hit like a punch: “No. There’s a shooting at Borderline. Active shooter.”

I sat straight up. My heart sank. Borderline Bar & Grill in Thousand Oaks, CA—owned by one of my longtime friends and marketing clients—had been open since the 1980s. Thirteen people were killed that night. The business never reopened in that iconic location. Lives, including those in our circle, were forever changed.

But that wasn’t the first time I’d been shaken to my core by mass violence. Just one year earlier, in 2017, I had made a rare, completely out-of-character decision not to attend the Route 91 Harvest Festival in Las Vegas. That night, another text from the same friend came through: “My brother-in-law is at the festival. They’re under attack.”

I started piecing it together—realizing how many of my friends and colleagues were there. I was worried sick. Again, glued to the TV, heart pounding, praying for messages that said, “I’m okay.” Some came quickly. Others took days. The ripple effects are still with us—PTSD, survivor’s guilt, anxiety that never quite goes away.

So when people ask why we do what we do at Weapon Brand, I tell them: it’s not about business. It’s personal.

When I was planning to attend the Tortuga Music Festival, Brian—my cousin and the founder of Weapon Brand—insisted that my friends and I learn some safety basics: how to move in a crowd, how to respond in a crisis, how to survive. I made a quick post on Facebook: “Anyone want to come hear my cousin Brian talk about safety? He’s a former Marine and has trained people in self-defense for decades.”

Within 90 minutes, over 30 people said yes. That was the beginning of Weapon Brand Florida. Not a business launch—a moment of shared need.

Now, years later, another tragedy has hit: the active shooter incident at Florida State University. Two people killed. Five more hospitalized. And once again, we’re checking on friends whose kids go there. Texting colleagues who work on campus. Glued to the TV. Heartbroken.

Because this is what trauma does—it echoes. It reaches across time and space and brings back the fear, the grief, and the urgency to make sure no one ever feels that powerless again.

At Weapon Brand, we teach active shooter response, situational awareness, and crisis preparedness. But none of it is theory to us. It’s life. It’s people we know. Places we’ve been. Choices that changed everything.

The last concert I saw at Borderline was LOCASH—still one of my favorite bands. I remember dancing, singing, feeling free. And I want others to keep feeling that way, too—free, but prepared. Because if tragedy ever shows up again, I want them to know what to do. And I want them to survive.