I dont know if he will be release from jail or not.. one of the article say he will be release when he is 21.. but i believe he wont be release... he will be in prison for more than 111 years for killing 4 and injuring more than 24... without any possibilities of parole... sad man...


Jennifer was one of his victim... she was called for a testimonial.... Many were called too but i posted this one....

Kip shot Jennifer Alldredge in the hand and chest.

Just in case you want to put a name and a face with count 9, I am Jennifer Alldredge and you tried to murder me.
I got to school early that day, because it was my boyfriend, Jake Ryker's birthday. I sat down at the middle front table with all of my friends and we were joking around and talking about a surprise party for Jake that his mom was throwing for him. Several minutes later, I looked up at the clock to see it was time to go to class. When I stood up to give Jake a hug, the cafeteria side door opened and you walked in. There were strange noises, like fireworks, and I thought you were campaigning for class elections like the rest of the popular group you hung out with.
Instead, I felt intense heat and pain hit and spasm through my hand. I watched blood splurt and pour out of my two fingers as my entire hand throbbed. Nauseated and scared I tried to scream, but you had shot me again, this time through my lung and blood gurgled out of my mouth. I fell and went in and out of consciousness. The whole time I had no idea that you had shot my boyfriend as well. I had no idea what events took place that day until several days later when I looked up at the TV when I was in ICU.
The paramedics deemed me a lost cause. Todd Ferguson, one of the emergency paramedics, stepped over me and saw that I was almost dead. It wasn't until I spit a lifesaver out of my mouth that he finally decided to take a chance on me. It hurt to breathe. My body felt heavy and constrictive. My hand throbbed and pulsated with blood everywhere. I could smell it, I could taste it and the memory of seeing it still haunts me. I felt so cold and I just wanted to go to sleep, but the paramedics wouldn't let me. A respirator breathed for me for two days and they removed it the third, after a few attempts to wean me off, but my lungs weren't strong enough and they would collapse again. My index and middle fingers are now fused in one place. I will have my hand deformed for the rest of my life.
In the summer, when I wear a bathing suit or a tank top, people gawk and ask questions about the scars from the bullet holes, 42 staples, 3 chest tubes, and hand scars. I feel as if I have done something to be ashamed of. As if I have done something to deserve to look the way I do. I had to alter the way I hold a pen and write; each day at school and work people look at me questioningly.
I want you to know that I am not falling for this poor little mentally sick rich boy. I don't buy that whole act of burying your head in the table. I'm not going to feel sorry for you or claim you were misunderstood. Do you know that everyone felt depressed and as if they were not seen for who they really are in middle school and their freshman year? I don't buy that excuse. Your parents loved you and supported you, offering to get you help for your depression. You were part of the popular group at school, you were on the football team, and had it made. You had the high school life many of your victims never got the chance to experience.
You made the rest of my high school life absolute hell. I became someone other kids avoided because I reminded them of you and the shooting. Other so-called friends tried to use me to get attention. I became this story and no longer a person. I became the object of people's pity, and that sickens me. My name became "victim" and everyone felt compelled to discuss every gory detail of the shooting and its aftermath with me. I felt alienated from everyone. Between therapy, meetings, doctor appointments, surgeries, and dealing with my own fear that you will one day try to hurt me again, I am so tired of having all of this run my life. I have had to continually deal with the consequences of what you have done. That, to me sounds as if it is a harsh punishment just for sitting in the cafeteria. The fact that you will spend at least 25 years in jail seems so inconsequential.
You killed the two people in your life who loved you unconditionally. Guess what? Mommy can't kiss it and make it better anymore, because you killed her. And not just shot her once, but six times maliciously. Daddy isn't able to bail you out of jail anymore. No one can hug you and tell you everything will be okay, because it won't. It won't ever be okay until Mike and Ben can walk and talk with their families again, it won't be okay until my friends' surgeries are done and the scars have miraculously erased. It won't ever be okay again until every memory, every fear, and every consequence becomes non-existent. And that won't happen unless you can go back in time.
I hate you. I hate what you have done. I hate what I have become because of you. I hate living in fear each day. I hate seeing my family falling apart. I hate hearing the sound of my mom cry at night. I hate how it has become so difficult just to go up to my dad and crawl in his lap and have him reassure me. I hate losing my high school friends because the strain of the shooting always seemed to come between us. I hate that I can't go back to Thurston to visit, without pausing and remembering that I almost died there. I hate that so much of my life for the past year and a half has been devoted to all of this. I hate how difficult it has been to move on and try to find a moment's peace from my anger. ...
I hope you spend the rest of your life in jail. You can't be cured. And if a medication was found to sedate you enough, I don't trust you to take it. You don't deserve to be out of jail. You don't deserve to have the same freedoms your victims have. ... I never want to worry about you hurting my friends and me ever again. I never want to send my kids off to school one day and worry if you have been released. I'm tired of being scared. I'm tired of letting you have that much power over me. You shouldn't ever be able to have that power again.



Im angry for what she have said to him... I hope she will understand the feeling of being kip... imagine having those voices in her head... To feel worst is to feel pain and worst inside you.. Being worst is feel worst about yourself... You want to die more than anything else and thats feeling pain and worst... Not some kinda injuries that hurt sooo much.. That can be cured right? But the feelings inside of you cant be cured...

damn it! why cant you all understand him!!