Brown University Shooting Roils Campus, Law Enforcement Scrambles for Answers

Paul Riverbank, 12/15/2025A brutal shooting at Brown University leaves two dead and nine wounded. Authorities have a person of interest in custody, but questions about motive and identity persist, casting a somber shadow as the shaken community awaits answers.

By Sunday evening, hard facts remained frustratingly thin, outpaced by a flurry of questions echoing from dorm rooms to national headlines. The authorities moved quickly. Within hours, news broke that a person of interest had been located—a 24-year-old named Benjamin Erickson, reportedly from Wisconsin, tracked down in a hotel some fifteen miles from where the gunfire erupted. NBC News put a name to the face, interested but not yet accused; police, for their part, chose caution, sticking firmly to the ambiguous label “person of interest.”

Inside Barus and Holley, panic had swept through a Principles of Economics study session—one of those rite-of-passage courses at the university, though Professor Rachel Friedberg, whose name appears on the syllabus, was absent that afternoon. The violence was over almost before anyone fully understood what was happening: bursts of gunfire, desperate shouts, students and a teaching assistant diving for cover amid overturned chairs and scattered notebooks.

By the time the noise faded, two lives had been irreparably ended. Nine others bore wounds—one, at last check, already home, while another fought for life in a Providence hospital, and seven more were holding steady. “Thanks to the men and women of the FBI and our partners,” echoed FBI Director Kash Patel, as teams from the Bureau, the Marshals, and local law enforcement crisscrossed the city, combing through digital traces and cell phone pings.

From the beginning, investigators held their cards close. In Erickson’s room, officers discovered a revolver and a compact Glock outfitted with a laser sight—the latter detail would later surface as a pivotal clue, its distinctiveness reportedly helping police zero in on the Coventry hotel. No motive surfaced in the first press statements; Chief Oscar Perez of Providence Police dampened speculation about Erickson’s status at the university and emphasized patience. There were no other suspects, Perez insisted, but cautioned that building a prosecutable case required methodical work—a reminder of the distance between headlines and courtroom certainty.

Somewhere in the background, tension pulsed. Brown’s Jewish student community is sizable, and this tragedy unfolded on the eve of Hanukkah, in a classroom listed under a Jewish professor’s name, however coincidental her absence may have been. Eyewitnesses, their voices shaky in interviews, mentioned that the shooter shouted something—what, exactly, was left unspecified, but enough for public anxieties and questions about motivation to surface. Officials, clearly cognizant of the risk of hype or misinformation, stonewalled follow-up inquiries.

The university, for its part, found itself at the center of frustration over transparency. With more than 800 surveillance cameras monitoring the grounds, students and skeptical outsiders alike wondered why only a pixelated, nearly useless image of the person of interest was provided to the public, hours into the unfolding crisis. “Questions, especially since the person of interest reportedly ‘yelled something unique’ before killing two people and injuring nine others in a Jewish econ-studies classroom,” one user posted on X, crystallizing a sentiment that simmered across campus and on social media.

Governor Daniel James McKee, stepping before cameras, offered solidarity and solace. “The community is suffering and in pain. We stand with you,” he said, voicing what many in Providence felt but perhaps could not articulate.

Law enforcement, meanwhile, emphasized the need for cooperation, urging anyone with footage or even a fleeting observation from near the crime scene to come forward. Every fragment of information, they stressed, could prove vital.

And so—campus life hesitates on the edge of normalcy, as those affected begin the messy and incomplete work of grieving. Even as investigators pour over evidence late into the night, the agonizing wait for answers persists. School buildings that, yesterday, felt mundane now bristle with the presence of loss. In an age of near-instant information, families and students are forced, yet again, to confront the limits of what can be known and when.

For now, the facts remain: violence erupted, lives were upended, and a community finds itself piecing together the meaning and the aftermath, with patience and resolve—but no shortage of worry about what will eventually, inevitably, come to light.

On a gray Saturday in Providence, the ordinary hush of academic life at Brown University gave way to chaos in moments—a sharp, merciless interruption that rippled quickly beyond the campus gates. As dusk settled, the Barus and Holley building, usually alive with the nervous energy of undergrads prepping for finals, was cordoned off under a veil of sirens and searchlights.By Sunday evening, hard facts remained frustratingly thin, outpaced by a flurry of questions echoing from dorm rooms to national headlines. The authorities moved quickly. Within hours, news broke that a person of interest had been located—a 24-year-old named Benjamin Erickson, reportedly from Wisconsin, tracked down in a hotel some fifteen miles from where the gunfire erupted. NBC News put a name to the face, interested but not yet accused; police, for their part, chose caution, sticking firmly to the ambiguous label “person of interest.”Inside Barus and Holley, panic had swept through a Principles of Economics study session—one of those rite-of-passage courses at the university, though Professor Rachel Friedberg, whose name appears on the syllabus, was absent that afternoon. The violence was over almost before anyone fully understood what was happening: bursts of gunfire, desperate shouts, students and a teaching assistant diving for cover amid overturned chairs and scattered notebooks.By the time the noise faded, two lives had been irreparably ended. Nine others bore wounds—one, at last check, already home, while another fought for life in a Providence hospital, and seven more were holding steady. “Thanks to the men and women of the FBI and our partners,” echoed FBI Director Kash Patel, as teams from the Bureau, the Marshals, and local law enforcement crisscrossed the city, combing through digital traces and cell phone pings.From the beginning, investigators held their cards close. In Erickson’s room, officers discovered a revolver and a compact Glock outfitted with a laser sight—the latter detail would later surface as a pivotal clue, its distinctiveness reportedly helping police zero in on the Coventry hotel. No motive surfaced in the first press statements; Chief Oscar Perez of Providence Police dampened speculation about Erickson’s status at the university and emphasized patience. There were no other suspects, Perez insisted, but cautioned that building a prosecutable case required methodical work—a reminder of the distance between headlines and courtroom certainty.Somewhere in the background, tension pulsed. Brown’s Jewish student community is sizable, and this tragedy unfolded on the eve of Hanukkah, in a classroom listed under a Jewish professor’s name, however coincidental her absence may have been. Eyewitnesses, their voices shaky in interviews, mentioned that the shooter shouted something—what, exactly, was left unspecified, but enough for public anxieties and questions about motivation to surface. Officials, clearly cognizant of the risk of hype or misinformation, stonewalled follow-up inquiries.The university, for its part, found itself at the center of frustration over transparency. With more than 800 surveillance cameras monitoring the grounds, students and skeptical outsiders alike wondered why only a pixelated, nearly useless image of the person of interest was provided to the public, hours into the unfolding crisis. “Questions, especially since the person of interest reportedly ‘yelled something unique’ before killing two people and injuring nine others in a Jewish econ-studies classroom,” one user posted on X, crystallizing a sentiment that simmered across campus and on social media.Governor Daniel James McKee, stepping before cameras, offered solidarity and solace. “The community is suffering and in pain. We stand with you,” he said, voicing what many in Providence felt but perhaps could not articulate.Law enforcement, meanwhile, emphasized the need for cooperation, urging anyone with footage or even a fleeting observation from near the crime scene to come forward. Every fragment of information, they stressed, could prove vital.And so—campus life hesitates on the edge of normalcy, as those affected begin the messy and incomplete work of grieving. Even as investigators pour over evidence late into the night, the agonizing wait for answers persists. School buildings that, yesterday, felt mundane now bristle with the presence of loss. In an age of near-instant information, families and students are forced, yet again, to confront the limits of what can be known and when.For now, the facts remain: violence erupted, lives were upended, and a community finds itself piecing together the meaning and the aftermath, with patience and resolve—but no shortage of worry about what will eventually, inevitably, come to light.