That date in 2014 was a Monday, the first day after the half-term school break at the Paalalinna school in Viljandi, a small town in South Estonia with fewer than 18,000 inhabitants.

A little before 2 p.m., a 15-year-old schoolboy shot his teacher dead.

This was the first and only school shooting ever to have happened in Estonia.

Due to the ensuing court hearings being held behind closed doors, the public did not learn, at least not until much later, how premeditated, openly announced, and, according to some opinions, preventable the tragedy was.

The hearing was closed because the suspect, his friends, and classmates were minors at the time.

Now that those involved are adults, however, "Pealtnägija" gained access to court materials and discovered that lessons remain to be drawn from the shooting a decade on.

"Pealtnägija" interviewed the victim's widower, students who had been in the classroom at the time, and relatives of the shooter, though all wished to maintain their anonymity by not appearing on camera.

The show had also been in contact over a long period with the perpetrator, Vahur (whose full name cannot be revealed for legal reasons). Vahur, now 25, has been released from prison, though "Pealtnägija" producers eventually lost touch with him.

The segment made use of courtroom audio recordings, including testimonies from those involved, along with interviews with police officers, the prosecutor on the case, and the school principal.

Prologue to tragedy

Vahur, then 15, lived on the outskirts of Viljandi and took a 15-minute drive every day to attend Paalalinna School. He was described as an average pupil, occasionally failing his exams and sometimes receiving poor grades, though not consistently.

"Initially, he seemed like a really quiet boy, always studying hard," one of his friends recalled.

"When sitting next to me, he was very well-behaved. But once he got more comfortable with me and spent more time outside, I thought he was actually the most fun person I knew," the friend added.

One of his female classmates remembered that Vahur treated all his peers well and was never mean.

"He didn't really stand out as someone with any violent tendencies or anything that might suggest otherwise," school principal Aavo Palo observed.

Vahur's father, also named Vahur, said: "Quite the opposite, in fact. His class teacher at Paalalinna praised him for being the only boy in class who would volunteer to help carry chairs, lift things, and assist in any way he could."

Another male classmate said Vahur was friendly and usually in a good mood, though he could get easily irritated when things went wrong.

Friends and teachers only recalled a few instances of such behavior, though in hindsight, they acknowledged the most alarming event took place in April 2014—just six months before the tragedy—when Police and Border Guard Board (PPA) officers conducted a drug raid at the school.

During the raid, the PPA found a knife in Vahur's schoolbag.

The PPA spoke with the boy's family about the matter, just 10 days before the shooting.

"Communicating with the family about the knife proved challenging for the police," PPA incident commander Meelis Saarepuu remembered.

Vahur had planned, after ninth grade, to study timber harvesting at the Luua School of Forestry and later become a career soldier after completing conscription. However, it later became clear that at that time, he had been doodling nazi symbols—swastikas, SS runes, and the like—in his school notebooks.

He explained: "I liked that kind of stuff... nazi stuff... I don't know, I just thought it was cool."

His interest in weapons also became evident when he posted related videos on social media.

During a subsequent search, authorities confiscated both toy guns and live ammunition from his belongings. By then, the 15-year-old knew how to handle an air rifle, and his father had shown him the revolver he legally owned and kept in the family's gun cabinet.

Vahur senior explained: "That weapon was for self-defense, to protect the property and family members. The first thing I made clear to him was, 'Listen, young man, you have a military career ahead of you. When it comes to cleaning weapons, many accidents happen... People start cleaning a loaded gun, and they end up dead. This is not a toy.'"

Vahur had three siblings, and his father was actively involved in raising all of them. He was also a member of the Paalalinna school board.

He always wore a uniform, even though he wasn't a registered member of the volunteer Defense League (Kaitseliit).

Principal Palo reflected: "With hindsight, of course, even though people wear Defense League uniforms all the time, even to casual events, I now think that something different was going on."

Only the family members truly know the exact nature of their relationships.
While there were suspicions of domestic violence, Vahur junior did not admit this in court. However, years later in prison, he confessed that his father had been violent towards him since he was seven or eight years old, especially when his grades were bad.

"Of course, I was afraid of that. I was ashamed because others were doing fine, and I wasn't," Vahur said.

His father's version was: "I scolded him, but there was no violence. Sometimes I nudged him or something like that, but there was no beating."

Former PPA director Elmar Vaher noted: "If a child gets beaten at home for getting a C or D at school, it would be naive to think that the son will learn to live otherwise. At that age, the young person might even think, 'I'll push myself harder and be an even tougher guy than my dad.' But that's a bad example."

Disputes with a teacher

Despite these challenges, Vahur generally managed at school. However, a particular conflict arose with German teacher Ene Sarap.

Sarap was a highly respected teacher, but in Vahur's opinion, she gave him undeservedly low grades.

Vahur told his friends via a messaging app that he feared the teacher and that she worsened his mood.

He also commented negatively on her appearance.

At one point, the boy told his father about the issues with this teacher, even alleging that she had touched him inappropriately.

He further claimed that when he didn't understand something, the teacher called him stupid and incapable.

"Later, Vahur said the teacher had been 'groping' him," the father recounted.
"This was toward the end of eighth grade. I asked him what exactly it involved."

The boy responded that the teacher had been repeatedly touching him from behind, which made him uncomfortable.

"I told Vahur it seemed to me there was a pedophile tendency going on here," Vahur's father continued.

"If someone systematically touches and strokes a minor, I can't think of anything else to call it. But I didn't report it because this whole topic was new to me."

Chief prosecutor Kaire Hänilene, who handled the case, noted that these claims were unsubstantiated. "It was never proven that the teacher acted maliciously towards the boy or behaved inappropriately."

A later investigation found no signs of harassment.

While Vahur felt that he had issues with this teacher, neither he nor his parents reported the matter to the school or authorities.

School psychologist Karmen Maikalu explained: "What I often hear is parents telling their children, 'Don't complain,' or 'Just ignore it,' leaving the child to deal with it alone."

"Yes, we should teach children problem-solving skills, but they need adult support too," Maikalu added.

According to Elmar Vaher, Vahur was left isolated in this situation. "He wasn't given the tools, and the family didn't support him in a way that could have allowed him to resolve the situation differently," Vaher said.

Preparation

Vahur's plan to kill the teacher he saw as troublesome likely formed over a lengthy period.

He said: "Since I tried to get help before and didn't get any, I thought it would be the same this time."

"It was a week before the break, on a Thursday," he remembered.

"The problem was, she wanted to fail me and mocked me," Vahur recalled.

Throughout that school year, he posted videos and pictures of weapons on his social media accounts, along with messages like: "Don't criticize me for being quiet, no one plans a murder out loud," or simply: "Born to kill," a slogan from the war movie "Full Metal Jacket."

Two weeks before the shooting, he asked a close female friend if she would still be his friend if he were a murderer. She apparently said yes and even pledged to visit him in prison.

Prosecutor Hänilene said this demonstrated that the attack was premeditated and not a spontaneous decision.

PPA operations chief Saarepuu noted: "Global research shows that school shootings are rarely spontaneous; they're usually premeditated. Post-event analysis often reveals that shooters search for information online and talk to others about it."

During the fall school break, Vahur's internet history showed he was researching school shootings, revolvers, prison sentences, and whether a person convicted of such a crime could later serve in conscription.

"I don't remember, I just got interested and searched it, but I wasn't thinking about it at the time," he said.

Prosecutor Hänilene stressed that friends and family must pay attention to warning signs like these.

"Posts, messages, and cries for help should be reported with more care and empathy."

How lonely and troubled Vahur had become was evident from something he wrote on a wooden box at home: "Vahur's box of items; in this box, Vahur keeps his treasures, memories, and feelings, those that he will never feel. Freedom is a treasure that a person only feels when they are in captivity."

October 27, 2014

Ene Sarap's widower recalled that fateful day.

"I saw Ene at around 8 in the morning. We embraced, and I sent her off to work because I had to leave a bit later, and still had some time."

Meanwhile, Vahur's mother had a similarly routine start to the day.

"I got up, put the kettle on for coffee and tea, and turned on the lights in the kids' rooms. They got up shortly after."

Vahur's father added: "The alarm went off, I got dressed, and had breakfast. By then, Vahur had already eaten. I think he passed through the kitchen and then went to the bathroom. After a while, he came back to his room."

Vahur junior took over the chain of events.

"I remember going to my parents' room to search for the gun and the key to the cabinet. It took some time. I finally opened the cabinet—it was tough to unlock. I took out the gun and then looked for the key to the ammo drawer.

At first, I couldn't open it because the lock was tricky. I took out some rounds, locked everything back up, put the key away, and left."

"I hid the gun in my jacket, put the bullets in my pocket, and waited until it was time to leave for school."

Vahur's father continued: "We hugged in the kitchen, then got in the car. He always sat in the front passenger seat."

Vahur junior added: "I got out of the car at the bus stop near the school, walked to school, and everything seemed normal."

The first five classes passed without incident.

German was the sixth class for the ninth-graders that day. Since it was an elective, only five students were present: Three boys and two girls. During the break, Vahur loaded his revolver in the bathroom, slid it into his waistband, and showed it to two other boys in the classroom before the lesson started.

One classmate remembered: "Before the German lesson, he showed it to us. I wasn't particularly interested."

Another classmate added that they even thought it was a toy gun.

"The question remains: Even if they weren't sure whether it was a real gun, they should have notified the teachers or the administration," Prosecutor Hänilene remarked.

"When a gun is displayed and it's loaded, one should think it might go off," Elmar Vaher added.

Vahur described what followed.

"Everything was calm. The teacher asked us about our break, and we talked about what we had done. She began explaining a new topic, and we were supposed to write it down in our notebooks. She was standing in front of the board, writing."

"I suddenly stood up and shot her."

A girl in the class recalled: "It all happened so quickly. He just stood up, and we barely had time to react."

Vahur said he didn't even aim. "I just pointed the gun at the teacher and pulled the trigger."

His classmates confirmed that the teacher had been writing on the board at the time and spun around after a few shots were fired.

She looked at the class and screamed.

"After the shots, he ran to the board and told us that the teacher was dead," one classmate recounted.

"He then took a matchbox from his pocket, put the spent cartridges inside, and reloaded. He also took a key from the teacher's desk and locked the door," another classmate continued.

"He told us that he was now a criminal, and we were his hostages," added another.

PPA operations chief Saarepuu confirmed that no one could leave the room. "The risk that this could have resulted in more deaths was real at that point."

After some pleading from his terrified classmates, Vahur allowed them to leave. One classmate recalled asking him why he did it. "It's unbelievable that you did this."

"He told us to call the police," the classmate added.

The students ran to the end of the hallway, to the bathroom, and then to their class teacher.

Vahur had fired six times, emptying the revolver's chamber.

Three bullets struck the teacher, and the board bore several bullet holes. Before other teachers arrived, Vahur managed to send a message to his friend, stating: "I shot the German teacher."

"I don't remember why I sent that message," Vahur later admitted. "I was in shock and didn't understand what I was doing."

According to former PPA chief Elmar Vaher, the police knew the shooter still had ammunition and had reloaded, as if preparing to continue his attack. But he didn't.

"He had the chance, but instead he let his classmates go and didn't carry on, which often happens in school shootings," Vaher noted.

"Shooters frequently realize there's no going back, so they take more lives and, sadly, often their own," he added.

Vahur remembered that after his classmates fled, the homeroom teacher came to the door, and he opened it for her.

Soon after, the principal and the school information officer arrived.

Principal Palo recalled being notified of the incident.

"The Russian language teacher came down and said something was wrong. I was sitting in the office at the time. That's the first thing I can remember. I went upstairs to see what had happened. The teacher was lying in a pool of blood in front of the class, and the children were terrified. The gun was on the first desk in the classroom."

The school information officer recalled asking Vahur what had happened.

"He told me he had shot the teacher and to call the police. Afterward, it was just me and Vahur in the classroom. He asked for water, so I gave him some. We left the room and sat on a bench in the hallway. Vahur was frightened. I put my arm around him and asked if I could hold him. He allowed it. One of the first things he said was that his mother would now be very disappointed in him."

Estonia's first school shooting

Ene Sarap's husband remembered being at home cooking when he heard the first reports on the radio about a shooting at the school.

"Then I looked at the time and thought, this was during her class; I can't call her now. Her phone is probably off. I thought I'd call her later. But not much later, the school principal called me and told me that Ene had died."

The police arrested Vahur and followed standard protocol for such incidents.

All the other students were gathered in a separate room with the cooperation of school staff.

"We kept the children together in the gym, informed them about what had happened, and asked them to wait there. When the police gave the all-clear, we let them go home calmly," Principal Palo recounted.

Vahur's father said the news came as a massive shock.

"After Vahur's class teacher called me to say that Vahur had shot his German teacher, I called my wife at home and told her to check the gun cabinet."

"My class teacher called, saying Vahur had gotten into big trouble and had shot the teacher. I didn't know what to think," Vahur's mother recalled.

The case stunned Estonia.

Condolences poured in from across the country, including from high levels of government, to the family, colleagues, and friends of the deceased teacher. But many questions arose about how such a tragedy could have occurred.

Elmar Vaher admitted that the PPA had expected that a school shooting would eventually happen in Estonia. The question was when.

The event occurred just a few years after Finland experienced two high school shootings with multiple fatalities less than a year apart, in 2007 and 2008.
"We had time to prepare because of similar events in Finland, Germany, Sweden, and the U.S.," Vaher explained.

"So we improved our training: training crisis negotiators, rapid response units, and, by that time, we had already trained officers that the first patrol on the scene must enter the school immediately—not delay, not evacuate—but first apprehend or, if necessary, neutralize the perpetrator."

In the fall of 2015, the highly publicized trial began but was declared closed to the public.

Elmar Vaher noted that the defendant's testimony was incoherent.

"He justified his actions with claims of inappropriate touching, groping, pedophilia. His father supported him, but whether he truly understood what he had done is hard to say."

Vahur was sentenced to nine years in prison, which he served at Viru Prison in Jõhvi.

Lessons to be drawn

Elmar Vaher stressed that not talking about the tragic event would have made things worse.

"If we don't address that even a broomstick can fire a shot—that any weapon brought into school is dangerous—then we're ignoring the reality that our families are not as healthy as we wish. The breadwinner, the man meant to protect his family, should not be the one beating his children and wife."

Meelis Saarepuu noted that one outcome of the case was that schools began taking emergency planning much more seriously.

"Schools started contacting the PPA more often. The police provide advice, but it's the schools' responsibility to make these plans themselves. That really picked up after the shooting."

In the aftermath, schools began conducting snap drills and preparing for similar situations, but according to the long-serving police director, these practices have largely faded 10 years later.

"Unfortunately, when tragedies happen, there are a lot of promises—metal detectors, evacuation plans, drills—but much of it remains on paper. Today, I think our readiness is more theoretical than practical," Vaher said.

Even if drills aren't as frequent anymore, PPA and school leaders remain vigilant, emphasizing that it's always better to overreact than underreact if a student brings any dangerous object to school.

Over the past six years, 113 weapons or weapon-like items have been confiscated from schools, including 12 this year. Most are knives or replica guns, though in one case, a real firearm was brought in.

"PPA's stance is zero tolerance, even for toy guns. We make sure even a 'broomstick' can't fire a shot," Vaher said.

The main lesson is the need to pay attention and respond.

While the Paalalinna case remains Estonia's only school shooting, young people have occasionally committed other shocking crimes outside school hours.

Again and again, in the aftermath, people say the warning signs were there.

Principal Palo commented: "We have a lot of diversity in our schools and many unusual situations. Look at our group—450 students, meaning about 900 parents. Among them, there are some very, very different people. We've been paying attention, and if a parent deviates from the norm, we've involved the police and child protection."

Karmen Maikalu noted that over the past decade, young people's awareness of mental health issues and warning signs has increased significantly.

"Young people have come to realize that if they see a friend post something concerning, it's not 'snitching' or betraying them to report it. It's about seeking help for their friend," Maikalu emphasized.

Epilogue

Vahur, the perpetrator, expressed remorse during his conversations.
"I feel terrible. It's not easy to live knowing I've destroyed other people's lives. If I had the chance, I would want to apologize to them, to tell them how sorry I am."

Despite opposition from the prison service, a court granted Vahur early release after he served half of his original sentence.

He served four-and-a-half years in prison for murder.

Since 2019, when he was barely out of his teens, he has been free.

Initially, he returned to Viljandi to work with his father, but the attention he received in the small town made it impossible for him to stay.

The Paalalinna school does not hold a formal memorial for the events of October 27, ten years ago. Instead, a single rowan tree stands in front of the building as a quiet reminder.

Despite stating that he wants to, Vahur has not personally apologized to the victim's family.

By way of a final word, Ene Sarap's widower said: "A life like that will never come back — someone who takes care of you, someone waiting for you when you come home."

*Note: Vaher used the phrase "Et luuavarrest tuleb pauku," an Estonian idiom that loosely translates to "even a broomstick can make a bang"—meaning that surprising or seemingly unlikely things can always happen.

--

Follow ERR News on Facebook and Twitter and never miss an update!