A lot of people are talking about The Drama. Much of that conversation has focused on how it was marketed, how it landed with audiences, and whether it went too far — or not far enough — in depicting a young person on the brink of violence.

Those are valid questions. But they are not the most important ones.

What if, instead, we asked: What does this story show us about the moments before violence — and what we can do about them?

Thirteen years ago, my six-year-old son Dylan was killed at Sandy Hook Elementary. I don’t watch films like this the same way anymore. My mind doesn’t go first to the plot or the performances. It goes to the before. The warning signs. The missed opportunities. The moments when something could have been different.

Violence — whether directed outward or inward‚ is rarely spontaneous. It is almost always preceded by signals that, in hindsight, feel painfully clear.

In The Drama, those signals are there.

We see Emma, the protagonist, struggling with isolation and disconnection. We see the impact of bullying and her consumption of media steeped in school shooting culture. We see a lack of meaningful support from her community and a growing sense of invisibility. There are hints of depression, despair, even suicidal thinking. And there is access to — and practice with — her father’s rifle, the element that can turn ideation into action.

No single one of these tells the whole story. Together, they form a pattern we have seen too many times in real life.

At Sandy Hook Promise, our work rests on a simple but urgent truth: these patterns can be recognized, and when they are, tragedies can be prevented. Through our Know the Signs programs, we teach students, educators, and community members how to recognize warning signs — and, just as importantly, when and how to respond.

That second part matters. Awareness without action is not prevention.

The Drama offers a glimpse of what intervention looks like. There is a moment — subtle but pivotal — when Emma connects with a peer, shares an emotional opening, and is welcomed into a community of students working on gun violence prevention. That connection interrupts a trajectory that seemed to be heading toward harm. Emma could have moved forward with her plans. Instead, she dumps them into a pond.

It is easy to overlook, but it is the most important part of the story. When a young person feels seen, supported, and connected, outcomes change.

The question is whether we, as viewers, recognize that moment for what it is.

Too often, we assume intervention requires expertise or authority —that only professionals can step in. In reality, prevention is driven by ordinary people deciding to act. In the film, a student walks up to Emma after class with a simple hello and an invitation. That’s the whole thing.

It can be as simple as reaching out to someone who has withdrawn. Taking a troubling comment seriously instead of dismissing it. Connecting a young person to a trusted adult. Creating a moment of belonging where there was none before.

So much of this was missed in Emma’s case. I was left wondering: Would it have taken another mass shooting before anyone intervened? Were her parents having conversations about her loneliness, her change in appearance? Did they secure the firearm? Did the school see any of the warning signs along the way?

These actions are not dramatic. They don’t make for cinematic climaxes. But they save lives.
We also tend to believe we would recognize when something is wrong — that the signs would be obvious. The truth is, recognition is a skill. It can be learned, practiced, and strengthened.

That is where the real opportunity lies.

If you have seen The Drama, you have already been exposed to the warning signs we teach every day. You have seen how they accumulate, how they are missed, and how — at a critical moment — they can be used to interrupt violence before it happens.

The next step is to move from observation to reflection, and from reflection to action.

Where did you notice the signs? What moments stood out as opportunities for someone to step in? What might you do differently, now that you have seen them?

These are not abstract questions. They are the foundation of prevention.

We cannot control every outcome. But we can change how prepared we are to respond. We can build a culture where people are more attuned to one another, where warning signs are taken seriously, and where stepping in is seen not as overreacting, but as caring.

Stories like The Drama will continue to be told. They reflect a reality that is already part of our lives. The question is whether we treat them as entertainment – or as an opportunity to learn how to change the ending.

Because the most important work doesn’t happen on the screen.

It happens in the moments before.

Nicole Hockley is co-founder and CEO of Sandy Hook Promise and the mother of Dylan, who was killed at Sandy Hook Elementary School.