Moser’s daughter, 6-year-old Veronica Moser-Sullivan, was the youngest of the fatalities in the theater.
Because the number of seriously wounded victims outnumbered available ambulances, other patrol cars were used to transport patients to hospitals. After four trips, Grizzle said the inside of his car was covered in blood, from the dashboard to the ceiling.
“There was so much blood, I could hear it sloshing in the back of my car,” he said.
Friends and relatives of those killed or injured in the attack — along with scores of media and members of the public — lined up in the pre-dawn chill for one of 150 seats in the main courtroom and an overflow courtroom equipped with video and audio feeds.
They heard the most detailed accounts to date of the carnage in the theater, and the aftermath of the violence.
Clad in head-to-toe body armor and wearing a police-style helmet and gas mask, police approaching the theater entrance initially mistook Holmes for a fellow officer.
But Holmes, who was standing alone with his hands on his car, wasn’t acting like a normal police officer, alerting officer Jason Oviatt that he may have been the shooter.
Holmes raised his hands immediately when ordered to do so and was “completely compliant,” Oviatt said.
Oviatt — who dragged Holmes behind a dumpster for a thorough search, because the scene was still unsecured — said Holmes’s body didn’t have “normal tension” when he grabbed him, and that he seemed unresponsive when questioned.
“He was very relaxed,” Oviatt said. “It was like there weren’t normal emotional responses to anything. … He seemed very detached from it all.”