A penchant for hate was a common bond

Suspected killers openly admired Hitler, spoke of war, guns.

The Associated Press

LITTLETON, Colo. -- Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris hurled insults at Jews, blacks and Hispanics at Columbine High School. But they REALLY hated the athletes, who had power and popularity -- everything they didn't. "All jocks stand up!" one of the attackers yelled during their murderous spree Tuesday. "We're going to kill every one of you." They killed 13 people in the deadliest school massacre in recent years. Then Klebold and Harris turned their guns on themselves. As horrible as their assault on classmates was, it didn't come out of the blue. Klebold, Harris and others in a band of outcasts who called themselves the Trenchcoat Mafia had a long-running feud with Columbine athletes, including a recent confrontation in which the "mafiosi" showed up carrying swords and brass knuckles. The Trenchcoat Mafia was no secret society. Members posed for a yearbook photo last year. They had their own special spot in the cafeteria, near the stairs. They wore black trench coats -- no matter the season -- and berets with German crosses. They openly admired Hitler. They spoke constantly of war and guns, and Harris had made a video at school in which he bragged about his new guns. After Paducah and Edinboro, Jonesboro and Springfield, how could such provocative behavior not raise alarm?Rather easily, it turns out. If fellow students at Columbine were concerned -- and some now say they were -- they said little to adults, figuring they could handle these troublesome misfits themselves. If teachers and police noticed, they passed it off as teen-age rebellion, unpopular kids looking for a sense of belonging. And if parents like Steve Cohn worried about their children's safety, they rested easy knowing that Columbine High was the nicest of schools in the nicest of areas. "We moved here 11 years ago because of the schools," Cohn said. "It's been a great neighborhood. Until now." Cohn's son, Aaron, 15, narrowly escaped execution Tuesday. Lying on his stomach in the library, Aaron cowered as one of the masked gunmen leveled a shotgun at his head. A few moments earlier, a girl had jumped on Aaron's back, covering the baseball slogan on his shirt. The gunman moved on and chose another victim. A few weeks ago, the big news at Columbine High was pranksters putting Superglue in all the outside door locks. Most cliques here would be familiar on any U.S. high school campus: band kids, nerds, stoners, skateboarders and, at the top of the pecking order, athletes. More difficult to label were the dozen members of the Trenchcoat Mafia. Some fellow students described them as resembling "Gothics," sharing a penchant for black clothes and ghoulish makeup. Their long black dusters fit the Gothic style but also that of Old West villains. Members of the group simply said the coats kept them warm. Their interest in Hitler and World War II was well-known around school. They played war games and bragged about their guns. Harris and Klebold sometimes spoke German in the hallways and made references to "4-20," Hitler's birthday, said Aaron Cohn, who lives five doors down from the tidy, two-story home on a quiet cul-de-sac where Harris' family moved in a couple of years ago. The massacre took place on Hitler's birthday. Cohn said Harris, 18, was nonetheless a quiet kid who hadn't caused him any problems. Other neighbors echoed that. Harris and Klebold were arrested last year for breaking into a car and completed their probation in January. Klebold, 17, and other Trenchcoats had reputations for being smart and skilled at computers. Choir teacher Lee Andres remembers the 6- foot-4, blond Klebold as a smart kid. He ran the sound for one of last year's school musicals. School officials said they had had no discipline problems with Klebold or Harris, and they passed under the radar of the Jefferson County Sheriff's Department, said spokesman Steve Davis. After the shooting, investigators questioned other members, but Davis said there was no indication other members took part in the actual shooting. Steve Cohn finds it difficult to believe that school authorities or police didn't notice the group. "Wasn't it obvious, to someone?" he asked. "All the kids knew about it. You'd think a teacher would notice. You'd think the sheriff's department would know."

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