Editorial: In the aftermath of horror, Orlando chose love

Tonight, before you go to sleep, think about what life was like 10 years ago. Think about falling asleep with the knowledge that mass shootings were tragedies that happened someplace else. If you lived in the Orlando area then, try to remember a city unburdened by the kind of trauma that strikes so deep, and so hard, that it alters a community's DNA.

It will be difficult. Because when they went to bed on June 11, 2016, Central Floridians did not know they would wake up to a shifted reality. Even for those who were awake and watching, it was hard to grasp. The first news to emerge on local TV stations simply reported large numbers of police and emergency vehicles gathering around a nightclub just south of downtown Orlando shortly after 2 a.m., followed almost immediately by a note on the Facebook page of the Pulse nightclub: "Everyone get out of pulse and keep running."

At 3:21 a.m., the Orlando Sentinel's website posted a terse note:

Orlando Police say they are responding to a shooting situation at Pulse nightclub near Orange and Kaley avenues in Orlando early Sunday morning. Many emergency vehicles are responding to the scene.

This is a developing story. Check back for more details.

Around 7 a.m., Orlando police confirmed 20 people were dead. Over the following hours, the death toll grew to 49, with dozens more injured. By 10:30 a.m. the basics were known: The identity of the killer. The bare-bones account of unfolding horror. Early interviews with people who were at the club and ran.

Realization to resolve

Our community - along with the rest of the world - was just starting to grasp the magnitude of the events of that night. Police quickly identified the shooter and talked about his motivation. Details of the three-hour siege began to emerge. An archive of the first 24 hours of the Sentinel's coverage, available at orlandosentinel.com/pulsereports, details the growing awareness of the magnitude of what took place on the morning of June 12. The shift from before, to after.

But Orlando's real transformation was already starting to glow. Throughout the afternoon, hundreds of people stood in hours-long lines to donate blood At vigils throughout the city, people held candles, hugged strangers and mourned. As the sun set on June 12, realization was settling in, alongside a silent determination that would only grow firmer as the years progressed:

Orlando would not surrender to hate.

And over the subsequent years, that promise has been kept. Orlando's worldwide image as a suburban appendix to theme parks was eclipsed by its status as a beacon of tolerance and love.

Questions and pain

Yes, there has been controversy; multiple examinations of the response from the city's police and fire departments challenged the handling of the siege, while local hospitals revised the way they prepared for mass trauma. Everyone learned lessons they hoped they'd never have to use again, and then watched as Orlando's experiences helped save lives in other mass-shooting situations.

Justifiable questions arose about the disposition of the millions of dollars in donations that came pouring in, focusing first on the distribution of aid to the survivors and families of Pulse victims and then on the stalled progress toward a fitting memorial. Even now, as city leaders finalize the memorial's design, there is division and criticism by people who have earned the right to dissent. City leaders know there is no path forward that will make everyone happy. But they are still listening, and still trying. Many attribute that at least partly to Orlando’s continuity of leadership, particularly Mayor Buddy Dyer and Commissioner Patty Sheehan, who both responded to the Pulse scene before dawn 10 years ago. That belief will be tested soon; both plan to step down at the end of their current terms. Thier legacy should inform voters’ choices.

There's no doubt that the aftermath of Pulse strengthened this community's protective embrace of the LGBTQ+ community.. But Hispanic leaders still feel (as explained in a guest commentary to be published Friday) that the magnitude of their loss has been less acknowledged. June 11, 2016 was Latin night at Pulse, and the vast majority of those in attendance understood the Spanish lyrics of the songs that blared from the club’s speakers.

There is still time to change that. Now more than ever, in the face of harassment and fear spread by cruelly aggressive immigration enforcement, Central Floridians should do everything in their power to make it clear that this community stands with Latinos regardless of their status - in the spirit of Pulse and of humanity.

Now and forever, Orlando strong

All of this is possible. Orlando's character was shaped and honed by Pulse in ways that people never imagined on the night of June 11, and were only beginning to grasp 24 hours later. The flame of determination to renounce hate still burns brightly, but it needs tending in a nation increasingly defined by hostility. Then and now, Orlando's greatest memorial to the 49 angels lost on that horrible night will be the love, kindness and compassion that define this city, even 10 years later.

By the instant consent of a community united by tragedy, Orlando chose love and strength. May that decision endure for the next decade, the next century, forever.

The Orlando Sentinel Editorial Board consists of Opinion Editor Krys Fluker, Executive Editor Roger Simmons and Viewpoints Editor Jay Reddick. Use insight@orlandosentinel.com to contact us.

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This story was originally published June 11, 2026 at 9:06 AM.