The angry ex-Marine who murdered a dozen people inside a California bar made a disturbing final Facebook post that scoffed at the “hopes and prayers” his carnage would generate, according to a report.
“I hope people call me insane... (laughing emojis).. wouldn’t that just be a big ball of irony?” shooter Ian David Long, 28, ranted in the post, law enforcement sources told CNN.
“Yeah.. I’m insane, but the only thing you people do after these shootings is ‘hopes and prayers’.. or ‘keep you in my thoughts’... every time... and wonder why these keep happening...” he wrote.
A friend of Long's told CNN he didn’t know that side of the diabolical terrorist who used a modified Glock .45 pistol to maximize his massacre inside the Borderline Bar & Grill in Thousand Oaks.
“That does not sound like Ian to me at all. I don't know what was going through his head when he wrote this. It must have been terrible,” the friend said.
Long’s former track coach, Dominique Colell, said the message sounded exactly like something he would say.
She said Long physically assaulted her during his senior year at Newbury Park High School and then creepily smiled at her at every subsequent practice.
“He would come up to me with a big old smile and say, ‘I’m here,’ just to rub it in my face he was still on the team. That’s what the post sounds like,” she told the Daily News in a phone interview Friday.
Colell, 38, said Long got physical with her in the spring of 2008, when she was a 28-year-old coach who regularly disciplined the varsity sprinter for cursing.
She said the incident erupted over a lost cell phone another student had found. Colell said she was holding the device when Long rushed over and became aggressive.
“He saw it and came running up to me screaming, saying it was his cell phone and he wanted me to give it back immediately. That raised some red flags. It made me wonder what the hell was on that cell phone,” she said.
“He forcefully reached one arm around me and grabbed my butt. He reached the other around and grabbed my stomach. I was leaning back, losing my balance,” she said.
“He was upset and wanted the phone back,” she said. “He was annoyed I didn’t do what wanted and decided to assault me. It was a domination thing.”
Colell said she pushed Long away, ordered him to stop and verified the phone was his by calling the number listed under “mom.” She then kicked Long off the track team.
“The following day, he ran up to me with a bouquet of flowers and asked to get back on team. I told him, ‘I don’t want your flowers, you’re still off the team, get out of here,’” she recalled.
She said ultimately, school administrators and other coaches convinced her to let Long return, saying a blemish on his record could harm his dream of joining the Marines.
“I had that guilt going,” she said. “What was I supposed to do?”
The other school officials made Long formally apologize, and he was reinstated.
Colell suggested she was targeted by Long because she was a woman — someone he thought he could physically intimidate.
“I don’t think (the shooting) was caused by PTSD. I think he always wanted to succeed and couldn’t deal with his failures and acted out,” she said.
On Thursday, authorities searched the ranch-style home Long shared with his mother, looking for clues as to what motivated the former Marine’s bloody rampage.
Neighbor Don MacLeod told The News that Long would regularly curse at his mother and explode in anger after returning from a tour in Afghanistan.
At a candlelight vigil in Thousand Oaks late Thursday, thousands gathered to remember the lives lost in the senseless violence.
Shooting survivor Justin Bouse described the horrific shooting and said he was still processing the last moments of his friend Kristina Morisette’s life.
Bouse recalled seeing Morisette, 20, happily walking around the bar, her usual bubbly self, attending to customers during her 6 p.m. waitressing shift.
Moments before the terrorist burst in, Morisette voluntarily moved to a position near the front door because business was slowing down and a co-worker wanted to knock off early, he said.
“I saw Kristina walking around right before it happened … . I later learned she actually switched out with the other front-door clerk a few minutes before. So it was Kristina instead — because she’s so nice,” Bouse said.
“It still seems like a dream. I just can’t believe it. I’ve been going there for so long,” he said.
Bouse said Morisette and another of his friends, Telemachus Orfanos, 27, a security guard, didn’t stand a chance.
“My girlfriend and I were in the back by the DJ booth. I heard the shots, looked to my left and saw a black figure and the flashes of the gun,” Bouse, 20, told The News. “He was firing pretty quickly, just boom, boom, boom, boom. It was terrifying. The feeling was nothing but fear.”
Bouse said he first pushed his girlfriend behind some stairs but then saw a different Borderline employee running toward a back door. They followed the man out and rushed up a hill in back with about 40 others.
Bouse and various friends gathered in different groups around the vigil venue Thursday, recalling Morisette as a wonderful person.
“She was always happy and super genuine. She was someone I loved to be around,” Bouse said. He and Morisette attended Simi Valley High School together and knew each other since childhood.
“She was just a sweetheart,” said another vigil attendee, Savannah Horvath, 22.
Horvath said she’s a regular at the Borderline and considered Morisette “a perfect person.”
Another heartbroken friend brought a framed collage showing beaming photos of Morisette and handwritten messages.
“She was a great cook, and when we saw each other about a week ago, we talked about our annual Friendsgiving dinner,” said Joseph Kaesberg, 19. “She and I liked to do most of the cooking. She was always so warm and generous and could bring anyone’s mood up.”
Bouse said images from the horrific shooting were playing on a loop in his head.
“We saw people jumping out of the second-story window with glass all over the place. There was one guy who dove out of the window with his whole body into a roll,” he said, shaking his head.
“I remember one guy was screaming so loud. Even where we were out the door, we could still hear him screaming in pain. It was so horrible,” he said. “It’s such a hard thing because it was such a safe space where we all had so much fun. And now it’s just destroyed.”
Thursday’s vigil at the Kavli Theater in Thousand Oaks was packed to capacity. Organizers said 1,800 people filled the seats inside, and at least 400 more watched from outside.