Guilt, tension, grief linger among the mall witnesses

When 4-year-old Rylie Watson was asked if she wanted to go back to Trolley Square to fetch the jacket she left behind, the little girl hesitated.

"She didn't want to go to the restaurant," said her father, Jason Watson. "My wife asked her why. She said, 'I don't want to see the police man do this,' and she held her hand in a pistol. When they escorted us out of the place, there was the SWAT team and guns, and that spooked Rylie a little bit."

The Watsons were inside the Old Spaghetti Factory last week when Sulejman Talovic went on his shooting rampage. They hid in a closet in the back of the restaurant. As

police and firefighters rushed around them outside the mall, the fear was also painfully apparent in his 7-year-old daughter's face as she clutched her father, shaking.

"Emmalie, she wears it all on her sleeve," he said. "I had to keep my 1-year-old son so quiet. Every time he would make a noise in that closet, you would just see it written on her face."

Jason Watson said his family is "OK now," but he is still worried about his children. On Friday night, he said he was in a Layton restaurant when someone began singing "Happy Birthday." The clanging noise of a tambourine sent a shock down his spine.

Talovic's face and his actions are seared into the minds of many people who saw him kill and maim — and it's leaving a lasting mark. Many people who witnessed Monday night's shooting rampage are still dealing with the aftermath, emotionally and psychologically.

Some who spoke to the Deseret Morning News said they still can't sleep or eat or even function.

'A huge thing'

Inside the Pottery Barn Kids store where Talovic died in the shootout with police, employees hid until officers came to rescue them. Talking about it in a session with counselor Kent McDonald afterward, employees described a poignant scene: police officers lining up shoulder to shoulder to shield them from Talovic's body as they left the store.

"There was some very sensitive things going on there," he said.

More than 300 calls have been received on Valley Mental Health's crisis line. Some people just want to talk through their fear and anger — but crisis line workers are finding some surprises.