We were running late to check out of our hotel because my two young girls had demanded to use the pool one last time. I indulged them. The squeals of laughter were worth it. Afterward, we hustled to pack, race out the room and at 11:40 a.m. the lift doors opened in the lobby of the Hilton in Côte-des-Neiges district of Montreal.
Our path was blocked by staff. There was, one hotel worker informed us, a shooter. I sent my wife and children back up to our room and, with the dubious conviction of a professional journalist, went to investigate.
