Pulse Nightclub shooting: Orlando marks 9 years since tragedy, with ceremony, reflection
Orlando marked nine years since the Pulse nightclub massacre with remembrance and reflection.
Survivors and victims' families revisited the site ahead of its expected demolition.
The tragedy's emotional toll continues to shape the city and its calls for healing.
ORLANDO, Fla. - Nine years after a gunman opened fire inside Pulse Nightclub, killing 49 people in what was then the deadliest mass shooting in U.S. history, the Orlando community came together Thursday to remember the lives lost and others whose lives were forever changed by the tragedy.
What we know
On the ninth anniversary of the Pulse nightclub mass shooting, Orlando held a remembrance ceremony to honor the 49 victims and support those still coping with the trauma.
Held at First United Methodist Church, the event included the reading of victims' names, many of whom belonged to the LGBTQ, Hispanic, and Black communities. Survivors and families were also allowed into the nightclub this week — now slated for demolition — for a final look inside the space where the tragedy unfolded.
What we don't know
While many came to pay respects, questions remain about the immediate future of the Pulse site. Though it's expected to be torn down for a permanent memorial, no specific timeline has been finalized. It's also unclear how the site will ultimately be memorialized in a permanent way that satisfies the diverse needs of survivors, victims' families, and the broader community.
The backstory
On June 12, 2016, a gunman opened fire inside Pulse, a popular LGBTQ nightclub in Orlando, killing 49 and injuring dozens more. It was the deadliest mass shooting in the U.S. at the time and remains one of the most devastating attacks on the LGBTQ community in American history. The massacre sparked a global wave of solidarity and calls for reform.
Big picture view
The annual remembrance underscores how deeply the shooting continues to affect Orlando and communities beyond. Survivors carry lasting physical and emotional wounds, while families grapple with daily reminders of their loss. The nightclub, once a safe haven and symbol of celebration, has become a place of both pain and remembrance — and a focal point for broader conversations around gun violence, LGBTQ+ rights, and community healing.
What they're saying
Mayor Buddy Dyer acknowledged the long-lasting toll of the shooting, saying people in the Orlando area live with the tragedy of the Pulse nightclub shooting every single day.
At a remembrance ceremony held at First United Methodist Church of Orlando, the names of the victims — many of them members of the LGBTQ, Hispanic, and Black communities — were read aloud in a solemn tribute.
"Nine years ago today, our community faced unimaginable horror as 49 innocent people were murdered in the Pulse Nightclub," said Orlando City Commissioner Patty Sheehan. "Our community came together to honor those taken and help those who are injured and traumatized. The innocent victims were members of the LGBTQ Latinx and Black community. Our Orlando community, and places around the world, lit their monuments in rainbows to honor the fallen."
For survivors and families of the victims, the anniversary stirred a wave of emotions. Some, for the first time since the shooting, stepped inside the now-shuttered nightclub — a final chance to see the site before it is scheduled for demolition.
Visitors walked through the darkened rooms, pausing where they once hid for safety or where loved ones took their last breaths. Quiet tears and moments of prayer marked their passage through the building.
"I held that hope as I was running down the street, looking for him, yelling. I know he's going to be there," said Laly Santiago Leon, recalling her cousin, Luis Daniel Wilson-Leon, and his partner Jean Carlos Nieves Rodriguez, who died on the dance floor. "Standing there, it kinda came through. Sat in that spot, kissed it."
Her family prayed over the place where the couple died.
Others, like Jorshua Hernandez — who survived after being shot multiple times in the nightclub bathroom — could not bring themselves to enter.
"I stayed outside because I know I'm not going to be good mentally, because it's hard," he said. "I don't want to see the restroom. I don't want to see the bullet [holes]."
Hernandez still carries a bullet in his body and lives with visible scars from that night. "I have a bullet here with a screw. I have metal, and over here, another shot," he said, pointing to his wounds.
For Karynna Rios, the pain is personal and permanent. She lost her aunt, Brenda Lee Marquez McCool, who had survived cancer twice but died in the attack.
"I'll never stop missing my aunt, never stop thinking of what life would be like if she was still here," Rios said. "If we were nicer to each other — less issues in the world."
What's next
In the coming days, more survivors and family members are expected to walk through Pulse one last time — a gesture meant to help them confront the past, even as the future of the site remains uncertain.
The building, once a place of joy and celebration, remains frozen in memory — a symbol of both loss and resilience.
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The Source
This story was written based on information shared by the City of Orlando, Orlando Mayor Buddy Dyer, Orlando City Commissioner Patty Sheehan, survivors and family members of those killed in the Pulse Nightclub shooting.
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