Connecticut school shooting: Teachers tell how they hid with children to escape gunman At their £350,000 four-bedroom home, the 20-year-old loner had earlier confronted his mother, Nancy, raised a semi-automatic pistol to her face and shot her dead. The gun was one of several legally registered in her name. The two lived there alone. Mrs Lanza's former husband, Peter, a company executive, had moved out before their 2009 divorce and her other son, 24-year-old Ryan, lives just outside New York. Still wearing his camouflage gear, Lanza drove his mother's Honda Civic to the school, set back in the woods up a hill at the end of a road. He had at least three of Mrs Lanza's guns - a Glock and a Sig Sauer, both semi-automatic pistols, and a .223-calibre Bushmaster rifle. Mrs Hochsprung had recently introduced new security measures requiring all visitors after 9.30am to show identification to obtain entry to the school. That was to be no impediment to Lanza. Police confirmed yesterday that he had "forced his way" into the building, not being allowed inside, though they declined to elaborate how. The consequences of what happened next are clear, however. Shortly after 9.30am, the first emergency calls reporting shooting inside the school reached dispatchers. Carrying the two pistols, Lanza walked into two neighbouring classrooms and systematically shot dead many of the small children and at least two teachers. Screams and gunshots filled the air. But amid the horror there were remarkable acts of heroism by teachers that saved many more lives. Maryrose Kristopik, a music teacher, herded the terrified children into a cupboard in her classroom, locked the door and urged them to remain quiet. Later she said: "I told them that I loved them. I said there was a bad person in the school. I didn't want to tell them anything past that. I told them that we had to keep quiet and we were in hiding and nobody knew we were there. We held hands and we hugged and I just tried to talk to them a little. Elsewhere, yards from where the shootings were taking place, Kaitlin Roig led 14 first-graders - aged five and six - into a bathroom, blocked the door and told them she loved them and that everything would be fine, even as gunfire ripped through the school. She taught in one of four first grade classrooms near the entrance. Two were targeted by the killer. Kaitlin Roig (ABC) Miss Roig said later: "I told them we had to be absolutely quiet. Because I was so afraid if he did come in, then he would hear us and just start shooting the door. If they started crying I would take their face and tell them, 'I need you to know that I love you all very much and that it's going to be OK. Because I thought that was the last thing they were ever going to hear and that we were all going to die. One mother, who gave her name only as Erin, said her daughter, Lauren, had been in Miss Roig's class when they heard a noise. She said: "The teacher took them all into the bathroom, locked them in and told them they all had to be very quiet. She crowded 14 of them in a tiny space and made them stand on the lavatory. The teacher said, 'You're going to have to show me some ID before I open this door" and they slid a badge under. Another staff member ran down corridors warning that there was a gunman on the loose. Mrs Hochsprung had rushed out of her staff meeting towards the source of the shooting with Natalie Hammond, her deputy, and Mary Sherlach, the school psychiatrist. Only Mrs Hammond survived as the gunman turned his weapons on them in a corridor. She was shot in the arm and leg as she blockaded a door with her body. Diane Day, the school therapist, who was in the meeting with Mrs Hochsprung and Mrs Sherlach, said: "We were there for about five minutes chatting and we heard, 'Pop, pop, pop." They didn't think twice about confronting or seeing what was going on. Gerald Stomski, a senior local council official, said of Mrs Hochsprung: "She died protecting the children that she adored so much. It's just incredibly shocking."" To alert staff members that a shooting was under way, a staff member at one stage switched on the public intercom system. The terrifying sounds of the bullets and screams saved many more lives, according to Mary Ann Jacob, the school librarian. The intercom went off and we could hear a kind of scuffle going in the office. I thought it had been set off by mistake so I called the office and the school secretary answered and said it was a shooting. As far as I am concerned she is a hero as she was right where it was happening. "I yelled 'Lock down!" in our room and ran across the hall to tell them to lock down too. We locked all the doors and covered the windows and got all the kids somewhere they could not be seen. We told them to sit down and be quiet. We do drills so it was doing what we normally do in those. We had 18 kids with us and four adults. The kids were all scared - they usually are even when we do drills. These are young children and it can be scary. There was one moment though when we had to come out from cover because we realised one of the doors was unlocked. We took them into a storage room at the back of the library where the servers are. We tore up bits of paper and handed out crayons to give the kids something to do. We were there for around an hour before people starting banging on the door saying they were the police. We didn't open the door for a while until they put a badge under the door. Victoria Soto Victoria Soto, who had taught at Sandy Hook Elementary School for five years and was described by one distraught 10-year-old as "really nice and funny," offered the ultimate sacrifice, throwing herself between the gunman and her pupils. One first-grade pupil described how Miss Soto moved all the children towards the back of the classroom when it became apparent that there was a gunman in the school. He said Lanza then came in and shot Miss Soto in front of the children. The boy, who spoke to CNN, said he was then able to run away past the gunman. Jim Wiltsie, Miss Soto's cousin, said: "She put herself between the gunman and the children and that's when she was tragically shot and killed. It brings peace to know that Vicki was doing what she loved, protecting the children and in our eyes she's a hero. There was a brief lull in the shooting, apparently as Lanza reloaded the weapons that were found later at the scene. By the time he finished his murderous rampage, he had fired off more than 100 shots and 20 children and six adults were dead or dying. With his final shot, he killed himself. The spree had lasted barely 10 minutes. Parents had already received an automated telephone call with the news that a shooting was under way at the school. They left their homes and work, jumping into cars and speeding to a scene that was already in police lockdown. Shocked mothers and fathers were led to the nearby brick fire station. Children were brought there during the course of the day for tearful reunions. By late morning, heavily armed police swarmed into the Lanza home, where they found the gunman's mother. For much of the day, it was reported that Mrs Lanza had been a teacher at Sandy Hook, but yesterday education board officials confirmed that she had no connection to the school. Back at the fire station, even as cartoons blared incongruously in one room for the children, another room was set aside for grief-stricken parents who were still waiting for their sons and daughters. As the light of the winter's day faded, so did their hopes. With local clergymen and professional grief counsellors present, 20 sets of parents were told on Friday evening that there would be no reunion. Among the dead was Grace McDonnell, six, who lived with her mother, Lynn, 45, her father, Christopher, 49, a business executive, and brother, Jack, 11, in Sandy Hook, just one street away from where Lanza lived. Dorothy Werden, 49, a neighbour, said: "I just choke up when I think about it. Grace was utterly adorable. Another victim was Ana Marquez-Greene, six, who moved to Connecticut from Canada with her family this year. Her father, Jimmy Greene, is an American saxophonist who spent the past three years in Winnipeg, working at the University of Manitoba's school of music. His wife, Nelba, is a therapist who worked at the University of Winnipeg. They moved to Sandy Hook in July, with Ana and her older brother, Isaiah, enrolling at the school. He survived the shooting. Lanza also shot Jesse Lewis, a six-year-old who loved riding and maths. His father, Neil Heslin, 50, recalled how on the morning of the shooting, Jesse was looking forward to making gingerbread houses in class. Everybody knew Jesse. He was terrific with animals," said Mr Heslin. Many of the bereaved spent the night at the fire station, too torn apart by sorrow and grief to go home alone. Monsignor Robert Weiss, the pastor of St Rose of Lima Catholic Church, was among those consoling the bereaved. At one stage, he tried to explain to a young boy that his sister would not be coming home. The boy's response, he said, with tears in his eyes, was simply: "I'm not going to have anyone to play with any more."