BEND — Before the shooting, there was little reason to believe Travis Connor and Ray Shields would become friends. If their paths had ever crossed, they might have nodded and walked away without saying a word.

Connor is a 32-year-old solar technician. Shields is a 63-year-old retired construction worker. Connor has a smart phone, and Shields owns a flip phone.

Shields’ childhood near Gig Harbor, Washington, was filled with outdoor adventure: backpacking, roping cattle and fishing.

In La Grande, Oregon, Connor grew up “at the dawn of video games and the computer,” he said.

Aside from their pony tails, they had little in common except this: Both shopped at the east Bend Safeway, and both were there on Aug. 28, 2022, when a gunman opened fire.

The gunman killed two people and shattered the city’s sense of calm. He could have easily shot Connor or Shields. But, in a way, they saved each other. Their lives have been intertwined ever since.

They received counseling together at Pilot Butte Middle School just three days after the shooting. They went on walks and hikes, talking about their lives and what they faced that night. They spent Christmas and Thanksgiving together. Once, they hiked up to Sparks Lake, where they spread the ashes of Shields’ 19-year-old cat, Pretty.

“We quite literally fell into each other’s lives,” Shields said.

The night of the shooting

Connor and Shields were both on their way to grab dinner that night: macaroni and cheese for Shields and Chinese food for Connor. A thin man with glasses and gray eyes, Shields, who has osteoarthritis and uses crutches, picked them up and ran when he heard the gunfire in the parking lot.

Chaos on the night of the shooting

Witnesses to Bend shooting describe chaos, fear

But Shields’ hips gave out and he collapsed into Connor. Connor looked up from his phone, took off his noise-cancelling headphones and heard the bullets for the first time. Unbeknownst to him, he had been walking straight toward the violence.

Now he was leaning over to pick up the stranger, slinging him over his shoulder, and sprinting to safety.

Their story could have ended there. However, as Connor put it: “You don’t throw somebody over your shoulder and then say bye.”

The men exchanged phone numbers and made plans after walking home that night. Over burritos two days after the shooting, they chatted about their lives and hashed out the details of what happened.

The shooting left them angry and hyper-aware of their surroundings. Sometimes, Connor braced himself while standing in crowded areas and became increasingly blunt. Nearly a year later, Shields still thought about the shooting every time he walked into Safeway.

“But this too shall pass, eventually,” Shields said 10 days before the one-year anniversary of the shooting.

Shields sought out guidance from his friend, a former Marine, who told him that Connor and Shields were tied together now. That they needed to talk about what happened. Despite their differences, Connor and Shields understood each other in a way many others couldn’t.

“It’s a special circumstance that the normal guy has never experienced,” Connor said.

A friendship grows from tragedy

Connor and Shields stayed in touch, meeting frequently.

They went on walks along the Deschutes River, sitting in the shade and talking. They went to the High Desert Museum. They went to Bend Whitewater Park, where Shields has a regular goal of walking two miles on his crutches, and Connor walks with him.

“It was incredibly helpful to have somebody who was actually there and shared the experience,” Shields said. “I think it helped a lot, just being able to have somebody to talk to about it.”

Growing up with a father who owned a printing business, Connor never learned much about the outdoors or how to repair cars. Shields taught him to replace an alternator on his wife’s truck. When he met Connor’s mother and told her he was teaching her son how to drive stick shift, she responded: “It’s about time.”

Meanwhile, Shields brought Connor kayaking. They hiked out to see pictographs near Devils Lake, hopping over creeks along the way. Soon, Shields wants to teach Connor how to make a fire using two sticks.

In 2016, Connor’s father, who smoked cigarettes “constantly,” died of cancer following more than three months of chemotherapy, he said. Connor felt like he was living in a rut in La Grande. When he moved to Bend, he wanted to meet new people, learn new things, grow and change.

In more ways than one, Shields provided that change.

“When I pulled Ray from the gunfire, I felt like the person I wanted to be was there,” Connor said.

Most of Shields’ friends have moved away from Bend or passed away. Though he had seven sisters, he has no children of his own. He and his wife realized long ago they weren’t cut out to be parents. But when he thinks about the shooting, he thinks about how any adult would feel an instinct to help another person’s child if they were in danger.

Over the past year, Shields came to a realization.

“In a way, I do see Travis as my son,” he said.

The Bend community was devastated on Aug. 28, 2022 when a gunman killed two people at the eastside Safeway store before turning a gun on himself. In the year since, residents have healed, taken stock and reflected. 

A year of mourning and loss ends in reflection: A year later, Bend still mourns the loss from Safeway shooting

Two men create bond, friendship after their chance meeting during the shooting: They saved each other in the Bend Safeway shooting. They’ve been friends ever since.

Community members talk about how Bend has changed: In a Bend changed by violence, community urges love

For the first time, Police Chief Mike Krantz speaks out: Bend Police chief reflects on Safeway shooting one year later