At Thai temple, shooter's father begs forgiveness from parents of 12-year-old victim

A man dropped to his knees inside a temple north of Bangkok, his body folding into the traditional wai gesture of supplication. He was sobbing. In front of him stood the parents of Naphat Chaimar, a twelve-year-old girl who had been shot dead six days earlier at her school. The man on his knees was Nithi Yimruang, father of the fourteen-year-old boy who had pulled the trigger.

Hundreds had gathered at Wat Lat Pla Duk in Nonthaburi province to mourn the youngest victim of Thailand's school mass shooting. When Naphat's mother and father arrived, other grieving parents approached quietly to offer condolences before the prayers began. Then Nithi arrived, and the room's emotional temperature shifted. He begged for their forgiveness. Naphat's father, Pongthon Chaimar, helped the man to his feet, but Nithi's head remained bowed in shame even as Pongthon accepted the apology. The girl's parents told him they understood he too was suffering. His son, Patchat Yimruang, had first killed his own grandparents—Nithi's mother and father—before opening fire at the prestigious Debsirin Nonthaburi school, killing six more people and wounding more than thirty. Then the teenager had turned the gun on himself.

Before the funeral service, Nithi spoke to The Guardian about the weight of what had happened. "I'm experiencing so many emotions all at once," he said. "I feel guilty and heartbroken because I've suffered a loss too. I've lost my child, as well as my parents. And seeing the little girl's father being so kind and understanding toward me makes me feel even more guilty." He still could not explain why his son had done it. The boy had lived with his grandparents since his parents separated when he was two, but Nithi visited every weekend and took him to tutoring classes. "For me, he was number one," Nithi said. "But he was a quiet, reserved child. He didn't talk much and usually kept things to himself. Toward the end, though, he became even quieter than before." When Nithi asked how school was going, his son would only say "so-so." Now there would be no more questions, no more answers.

Inside the temple's pavilion, Naphat's coffin was flanked by wreaths from King Maha Vajiralongkorn and Queen Suthida, alongside tributes from Prime Minister Anutin Charnvirakul and several cabinet ministers. The palace had announced that the king had granted royal patronage for the victims and their families—a gesture meaning all the injured would receive treatment as patients under royal care, and royal sponsorship would cover funeral rites and cremations. On Monday, hundreds of mourners filled the room where Naphat lay: the deputy prime minister, teachers, parents, friends. Monks chanted prayers. The wreaths and chairs spilled out into the covered area beyond.

Around the casket were photographs tracing Naphat's life from infancy to a confident young girl on the edge of adolescence—playing guitar, performing on stage. She had been at the school for only three months, part of the newest cohort of seventh graders. Her father spoke about what he and her mother missed most: her dreams. After the school term began, she had competed in a dance competition and a Thai traditional costume competition. Later this month she was supposed to compete in cheerleading. "She took on all these activities, and she was able to do them all," Pongthon said. "She really enjoyed expressing herself."

When her parents heard about the shooting, they kept calling her phone. An officer eventually called to say she was at Phranangklao hospital in critical condition. She died on Saturday. Her teacher, who asked not to be named, remembered her as an entertainer. She would not normally have been in the building where the shooting occurred, but had gone with other students to receive a vaccination. She was walking out of that room when she was struck.

Pongthon said he did not blame the school. "To put it simply, I think something like this can happen anywhere. Anywhere in the world." The death toll stood at nine, including the attacker. More than thirty others had been wounded. The shooting had resonated across the country, drawing responses from the highest levels of government and the palace itself. But inside the temple, what remained was the particular grief of parents who had lost a child who was just beginning to discover who she might become.