In a powerful and painful moment of remembrance, survivors and families of the 49 people killed in the 2016 Pulse nightclub massacre are stepping back into the Orlando venue for the first — and final — time before it’s razed. The emotionally charged visits are happening over four days this week, marking the ninth anniversary of one of the deadliest mass shootings in U.S. history. For many, it’s a return to the space that shattered lives — and a last chance to say goodbye before it’s transformed into a permanent memorial.
The building, shuttered since the night Omar Mateen opened fire during Latin night on June 12, 2016, killing 49 and wounding 53, will be demolished later this year. The city of Orlando bought the Pulse property in 2023 for $2 million after years of failed attempts by a private foundation to create a memorial. A new $12 million city-backed monument is slated to open in 2027, finally offering a space worthy of the lives lost and the community that endured.
Only about 250 people — survivors and family members — have been invited to walk through the haunting structure. The atmosphere is tightly controlled: no photos, no videos, just quiet reflection and, for those who want it, conversations with FBI agents who investigated the massacre. Mental health counselors are present to support visitors reliving the darkest night of their lives.
Brandon Wolf, who survived the massacre by hiding in a bathroom and has since become a prominent LGBTQ advocate, chose not to attend. “I want to remember Pulse as it was — full of joy and music and laughter,” he said. “For survivors, the last time they were in that space was the worst night possible.”
The LGBTQ+ community has long called for more than just promises and platitudes. The original plan for a memorial, spearheaded by the onePulse Foundation and helmed by former club owner Barbara Poma, collapsed under scrutiny and controversy. Accusations swirled that Poma prioritized profit over legacy, while millions raised never turned into concrete progress. The museum plans were eventually dropped entirely, and the foundation disbanded.
But the city is now moving forward with something more grounded — and hopefully more healing. County commissioners recently approved a $5 million funding package to support the effort, and the scars left by years of dysfunction and delays are beginning to mend.
Yet for many in the LGBTQ+ community, the wounds go deeper than a building. Pulse wasn’t just a nightclub — it was a safe space. A sanctuary. The shooting was not just an attack on individuals but a brutal reminder that LGBTQ people are still vulnerable, still targeted, still fighting for safety and visibility in their own country.
“The building may come down, and we may finally get a permanent memorial,” said Wolf. “But that doesn’t change the fact that this community has been scarred for life.”
Even as Orlando prepares to commemorate the past, the future hinges on what comes next — not just in bricks and mortar, but in the resources and support that survivors and the broader queer community continue to need. Because remembrance without action is just silence. And the people of Pulse deserve more than that.