![The former Pulse nightclub —the site of the 2016 mass shooting that killed 49 patrons— south of downtown Orlando, Wednesday, October 18, 2023. The onePULSE Foundation —tasked with building a memorial for the massacre victims— terminated its lease with the owners of the property in July. (Joe Burbank/Orlando Sentinel) The former Pulse nightclub —the site of the 2016 mass shooting that killed 49 patrons— south of downtown Orlando, Wednesday, October 18, 2023. The onePULSE Foundation —tasked with building a memorial for the massacre victims— terminated its lease with the owners of the property in July. (Joe Burbank/Orlando Sentinel)](https://www.orlandosentinel.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/IMG_TOS-L-pulse-2023_0470f-2-1_1039298058_1039286317.jpg?w=620)
The families of the 49 people who lost their lives in the early morning hours of June 12, 2016 deserved better.
Those who huddled in bathrooms or behind tables in Orlando’s Pulse nightclub while a killer stalked them, whose bodies and minds still bear the scars of that trauma, deserved better.
The police, paramedics and others who had to walk around the blood pooled on floors and hear the endless ringing of cell phones that would never be answered — they deserved better, too.
As did the Central Florida residents who watched the numbers of the dead tick upward as the darkness brightened into dawn, and struggle with the knowledge that something so horrible could happen in the place we call home.
Finally, the people who rained down millions of dollars on this community — the many small contributions along with the lavishly generous ones. They saw Orlando’s heartbreak and rushed to heal it. They deserved to see those dollars used wisely, and know that their impulsive giving would be amplified by an effective, successful fundraising campaign to bring in the millions more that would be needed. By now — nearly eight years later — they should have been able to visit the memorial they thought they were funding
That did not happen. As Orlando Sentinel reporter Amanda Rabines documented in her searing report earlier this month, there is almost nothing left from that outpouring of giving, or the contributions that slowly dwindled to a trickle. The onePulse Foundation, created to design the memorial, quietly shut down December 31. Most of the money it raised over the past eight years went to defray its own lavish expenses, including hundreds of thousands of dollars paid to high-priced architects and consultants for plans that were far too grandiose.
Had the city of Orlando not stepped in and bought the club, it might now be on the market as prime downtown real estate. As it stands, Orange County residents are on the hook for more than $50,000 in unpaid taxes.
The need for more investigation and a comprehensive, forensic audit is clear — including a definitive tally of the funds that flowed to the owners of the former club. For far too long, Barbara Poma headed the onePulse Foundation, a role that was rife with conflicts of interest. Why did nobody call this out?
Rabines’ story includes other lessons learned. Almost from the start, onePulse seemed more focused on creating a spectacular experience that would dazzle visitors: “Visions of video walls adorning a striking, upside-down tornado facade were never matched to a realistic strategic plan,” she wrote. Plans shifted from a memorial to a much more expensive museum, and the price tag kept growing: $45 million. $100 million. Yet there was no good, achievable plan to raise that kind of money — or even a public disclosure that the price tag had more than doubled. Or that there was never a realistic plan to raise that much: In its last full year, 2022, the foundation raised $1.5 million — and spent $3.4 million.
Adding to the problem: onePulse’s fiscal struggles were obscured until last year, when the foundation’s board finally admitted that it was close to insolvency. It was a bitter I-told-you-so moment for a faction of survivors and family members who had been questioning Poma’s leadership for years.
Now the effort to rise from the ashes falls to the city, who must build a fundraising effort essentially from scratch and create an appropriate memorial, eight years removed from the upwelling, emotional response to the tragic events of that harrowing June night or the days that followed.
None of this means that the tragedy will be forgotten. Those memories are seared into the souls of Central Floridians and commemorated in myriad smaller ways — logos painted on police cars, street art that reflects both anguish and hope.
And they remain the inspiration for the many ways our shared community became a stronger, kinder, more inclusive place.
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The quest for a memorial is now in the hands of city leaders. Those who yearn for a physical commemoration of this shattering tragedy will someday have a place to go. Beyond that, nobody can predict what that place will look like, how long it will take or how well it will reflect the events of that June night.
But for too many, any anguish and triumph will be overcast by the secretive saga that wasted eight years and millions of dollars. And the sure knowledge that this community deserved better.
The Orlando Sentinel Editorial Board consists of Opinion Editor Krys Fluker, Editor-in-Chief Julie Anderson and Viewpoints Editor Jay Reddick. Contact us at [email protected]