If you have a loved one who you think is sick, trust your gut.
On a February afternoon in Pawtucket, Rhode Island, a man carrying years of family rupture and unresolved anguish walked into a hockey arena and opened fire on those he once called his own. Robert Dorgan, whose life had fractured along lines of identity, rejection, and legal conflict, killed his ex-wife and one of his children before turning the gun on himself, leaving three others wounded and a arena full of young athletes forever marked by what they witnessed. The tragedy asks the questions that mass violence always asks — about the long silences before the breaking point, about the systems that might have intervened, and about what it means when private grief becomes public catastrophe.
- A dozen shots fired into a crowd of families and high school hockey players shattered a Senior Night game into a scene of screaming, fleeing spectators and athletes vaulting over the boards to barricade themselves in locker rooms.
- The gunman's own daughter emerged from a police station hours later, voice breaking, to tell reporters her father had shot her family — a moment that collapsed the distance between domestic tragedy and public horror.
- Social media posts in the days before the attack, including a cryptic warning that people would 'Go BERSERK,' now read as a mind telegraphing its final descent.
- Court records expose nearly six years of festering conflict — threats, dismissed charges, a divorce, and a household where Dorgan's gender identity became a flashpoint for rejection and alleged intimidation.
- Three people are dead, three more were critically wounded, and the intersection of untreated mental illness, family estrangement, and firearm access is once again at the center of a community's grief and a nation's unresolved debate.
On a Monday afternoon in February, gunfire erupted inside the Dennis M Lynch Arena in Pawtucket, Rhode Island, during a high school hockey game. Robert Dorgan — who also identified as Roberta Esposito — walked slowly through the stands and fired roughly a dozen shots into the crowd, killing his ex-wife Rhonda and one of his children before turning the gun on himself. Three others, understood to be family members and a family friend, were left critically wounded.
The shooting unfolded during a Senior Night game involving several co-op high school teams. Players on the ice initially mistook the gunshots for balloons popping before sprinting from the rink and barricading themselves in locker rooms. Spectators fled in panic as a witness attempted to physically restrain Dorgan mid-attack. Hours later, Dorgan's daughter stood outside a police station, visibly shaken, and offered a plea to the public: 'If you have a loved one who you think is sick, trust your gut.'
The roots of the violence stretched back years. Court documents show that beginning in 2020, Dorgan had clashed repeatedly with family members over his gender identity following gender reassignment surgery. His father-in-law allegedly threatened him with violence and used slurs to demand he leave the family home — charges that were filed but later dismissed. Disputes with his mother followed a similar arc. His ex-wife Rhonda had initially cited his gender surgery and personality disorder traits in divorce filings before settling on irreconcilable differences; the divorce was finalized in 2021.
In the days before the shooting, a social media account linked to Dorgan posted an ominous video of a woman loading ammunition, and on the eve of the attack he wrote: 'Keep bashing us. But do not wonder why we Go BERSERK.' What happened at the arena was not random — it was the culmination of years of rejection, legal conflict, mental health decline, and access to a firearm. Young athletes will carry the memory of that afternoon for the rest of their lives, and a daughter was left to explain to reporters why her father had become capable of such an act.
On a Monday afternoon in February, gunfire erupted inside the Dennis M Lynch Arena in Pawtucket, Rhode Island, during a high school hockey game. Robert Dorgan, who also identified as Roberta Esposito, walked slowly through the stands around 2:30 p.m. and fired roughly a dozen shots into the crowd. Video footage captured him raising his arm repeatedly, firing into one victim's back, before a witness grabbed him from behind and struggled to restrain him as spectators fled in panic. When the shooting ended, two people lay dead—his ex-wife Rhonda and one of his children—and three others were wounded. Dorgan then turned the gun on himself.
The chaos unfolded during a Senior Night game between co-op teams from Coventry, Johnston, St. Raphael, PCD, North Providence, and North Smithfield. High school hockey players on the ice heard what they initially mistook for balloons popping. "I thought it was balloons at first—it was like 'bop, bop'—but this kept going and it was actually gunshots," player Olin Lawrence recalled. Players sprinted from the rink, some vaulting over the boards, others racing to the locker rooms where they barricaded themselves inside. Spectators screamed and cried as the shooting unfolded. The three injured victims—understood to be family members and a family friend—were left in critical condition.
Dorgan's daughter emerged from a police station hours later visibly shaken, her voice breaking as she spoke to reporters. "He shot my family," she said. "And he's dead now." When asked why the shooting had occurred, she attributed it to her father's mental health struggles. "If you have a loved one who you think is sick, trust your gut," she told the gathered press, a plea that suggested years of concern about his condition.
Court documents and social media posts reveal a man consumed by grievance and anger. In the days before the shooting, a social media account linked to Dorgan posted an ominous video of a woman loading ammunition magazines while on a treadmill. On Sunday—just one day before the attack—he posted on X: "Keep bashing us. But do not wonder why we Go BERSERK," the message appearing to reference criticism of transgender Congresswoman Sarah McBride. These posts suggested premeditation, a mind spiraling toward violence.
The roots of Dorgan's rage ran deep into family conflict. Court documents obtained by local news outlets show that beginning in early 2020, Dorgan had clashed with relatives over his gender identity. He told North Providence police that he had recently undergone gender reassignment surgery and that his father-in-law wanted him out of the house because of it. According to the documents, Dorgan claimed his father-in-law threatened to have him "murdered by an Asian street gang" if he did not leave, and told him bluntly: "There's no goddam way a tranny is going to stay in my house." The father-in-law was charged with intimidation and obstruction but the charges were later dismissed.
The family disputes multiplied. Dorgan accused his mother of assault and violent behavior, leading to charges against her as well. When he refused to drop those charges, he claimed his father-in-law threatened further retaliation and murder. That case too was eventually dismissed. In 2020, when Dorgan's ex-wife Rhonda filed for divorce, she initially cited his gender reassignment surgery and personality disorder traits as grounds. Those reasons were later crossed out and replaced with the generic phrase "irreconcilable differences." The divorce was finalized in June 2021, but the underlying tensions never resolved. Seven years of living in a home where he felt rejected, threatened, and unwelcome had apparently calcified into something darker—a resentment that metastasized into violence.
What happened at the arena that afternoon was not random. It was the culmination of years of family rupture, mental health decline, and access to a firearm. A man who felt cast out, disrespected, and threatened by those closest to him walked into a public space where his family was gathered and opened fire. Two people died. Three more were wounded. Young athletes will carry the memory of that afternoon for the rest of their lives. And a daughter was left to explain to reporters why her father had become capable of such an act—a question that, in the end, may have no answer that makes sense.
Notable Quotes
He shot my family. And he's dead now. He has mental health issues.— Dorgan's daughter, speaking to reporters outside a police station
I thought it was balloons at first—it was like 'bop, bop'—but this kept going and it was actually gunshots.— Olin Lawrence, a high school hockey player on the ice during the shooting
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
What strikes you most about the family history here—is this a story about gender identity, or is that almost beside the point?
It's the conflict itself that matters. The gender identity was the catalyst, yes, but what you're really seeing is a family that couldn't contain the disagreement. The father-in-law's threats, the mother's alleged assault, the dismissals of charges—it's a system that failed to resolve anything. It just festered.
The daughter's statement—"trust your gut" about loved ones who are sick—suggests she saw this coming.
That's the haunting part. She knew something was wrong. How many people around him knew? And what do you do with that knowledge when the person has access to a gun and the legal system keeps dismissing the cases?
The social media posts the day before seem almost like a warning.
They do. But warnings only matter if someone is watching and can act. He was posting publicly about going berserk, and no one stopped him. That's not a failure of one person—it's a failure of systems.
Do you think the gender identity aspect is central to understanding why this happened?
It's central to understanding why he felt isolated and threatened. But the violence itself—that comes from somewhere else. From years of rejection, from legal battles that went nowhere, from untreated mental illness. The gender identity is the wound; the family conflict is what infected it.
What should people take from this?
That family ruptures matter. That mental health crises matter. That when someone is telling you they're in danger and being threatened, those warnings deserve to be taken seriously. And that access to firearms in the midst of all that is the final, fatal variable.