Before her name became known across Ohio, before flowers lined the sidewalk outside her home and before strangers mourned someone they had never met, Christie McWilliams was simply the friend who could make anyone laugh.
She was the classmate who welcomed everyone.
The mother who adored her children.
The woman whose laugh could brighten even the darkest day.
That’s the Christie Rosa Brumfield wants people to remember.
Christie and her 13-year-old daughter, McKinley McWilliams, were killed in Sunday’s shooting in Rittman. The tragedy also claimed the life of Rittman Police Sgt. Scott Ries, who was fatally shot after officers responded to a 911 call reporting a break-in and shots fired.
“I don’t want this story to be about how she died,” Brumfield said. “I want people to know who she was.”
Brumfield and Christie met as young girls at Rittman Elementary School more than three decades ago.
Growing up in a small district meant classmates often stayed together from kindergarten through graduation. Their graduating class had fewer than 80 students, and friendships weren’t something that faded after high school.
“You grow up together,” Brumfield said. “You’re family.”
That friendship never disappeared.
Even after Brumfield moved to North Olmsted, the two stayed in touch, sharing life’s biggest milestones, checking in on one another and, most importantly, laughing.
“We laughed all the time,” Brumfield said. “That’s what I keep thinking about.”
Their final conversation came Friday.
There was nothing unusual about it.
Just two lifelong friends joking with one another the way they always had.
“I never thought that would be the last time we’d talk.”
Sunday night, Brumfield’s phone began filling with messages from family members still living in Rittman.
Police.
Gunfire.
A neighborhood she knew well.
Then someone mentioned the address.
“No,” she remembered thinking. “That can’t be Christie’s house.”
She texted Christie immediately.
No answer.
As more information came from her brother, the fear she’d been trying to push away became reality.
Christie had been killed.
Soon after came another devastating piece of news.
Her 13-year-old daughter, McKinley, had also lost her life.
“My first thought was her kids,” Brumfield said quietly.
The following day, Brumfield returned to Rittman.
She attended the community vigil before stopping outside Christie’s home, where flowers, stuffed animals and handwritten notes continue to multiply.
Even standing there, looking at the shattered windows and signs of violence, she struggled to believe it.
“It still doesn’t feel real.”
Brumfield misses her already more than words can describe, but she wants to make sure everyone gets to know her the way she did.
News stories describe victims.
Brumfield describes a best friend.
Someone who never judged people.
Someone who accepted everyone.
Someone who showed up.
When Brumfield lost her fiancé, Christie became one of the people who helped carry her through unimaginable grief.
“She always found a way to make people smile,” Brumfield said. “Even when they didn’t think they could.”
She said Christie loved being a mother above everything else.
“Her children were her world,” Brumfield said. “She was an amazing mom. That’s what people need to know.”
As Rittman continues grieving one of the darkest chapters in its history, Brumfield hopes the community remembers more than the tragedy.
She hopes people remember Christie’s laughter.
Her kindness.
Her heart.
“The world is talking about what happened,” Brumfield said. “I just want people to know who Christie was before all of this.”
Then she paused.
“She was sunshine.”
