The emotions swung like a pendulum — from forgiveness, to kindness, to hate, to love, to regret, to gratitude.

For each of the people who spoke Thursday at the formal sentencing hearing for the man who killed 11 people at a Squirrel Hill synagogue nearly five years ago, they recounted their loved ones’ or their own pain from that unimaginable day.

Some even demanded that the man who caused it all look at them.

He would not.

Instead, the defendant, for the first time during trial dressed in a red prison uniform, kept his head down, seemingly oblivious to the challenges they put to him.

As U.S. District Judge Robert J. Colville began imposing the sentence, he thanked court staff, first responders who ran into the synagogue and attorneys on both sides for ensuring a fair trial. He also thanked the victims’ families.

“I will not pretend I can fully understand the depths of the suffering you have endured,” he said. Of those who died, he said, they will not be forgotten.

“Indeed, may their memory be a blessing.”

Colville said he would not address Bowers, even though he typically speaks to defendants directly at sentencing.

“I have nothing specific I want to say to Mr. Bowers,” the judge said. “I am, however, convinced that nothing would be meaningful to him in this moment.”

And then he received his punishment.

“I sentence you, Robert Bowers, to the penalty of death by execution,” Colville said.

It was the end of a court process that began Oct. 27, 2018, when Bowers carried three handguns and an AR-15 into the Tree of Life synagogue building at the corner of Wilkins and Shady avenues and opened fire.

Finally, after 4 years, 9 months and 7 days, it was over.

On Wednesday, the jury that already had found Bowers guilty of all 63 counts against him voted for capital punishment.

The death verdict applied for each of the victims, who were members of the Tree of Life-Or L’Simcha, Dor Hadash and New Light congregations.

Several times throughout the sentencing hearing, their names were read aloud.

Sometimes in groups, sometimes one by one, survivors and family members walked to the front of the courtroom to speak about their loved ones.

Richard Gottfried

Peg Durachko spoke first, directly addressing the defendant.

“You met my beloved husband in the kitchen,” she began. “Your callous disregard for the person he was repulses me.”

She continued: “Richard was the most important person in my life — my whole family.”

Durachko, who is Catholic, told Bowers that God created him for goodness and life.

“What have you done with your life?” she asked. “You have chosen darkness and evil. Have you ever wondered why God kept you alive that day?”

She urged him to repent.

“I suggest you prepare now,” she said. “You’ve got work to do.”

Debi Salvin, Gottfried’s twin sister, said she worked with him for 28 years as his dental assistant. She warmly described how he visited elderly patients in their nursing home to provide care.

“I felt a special bond with him … that’s hard to put into words,” she said.

Salvin then spoke about the practical ramifications of the attack.

“I have known antisemitism in some form my whole life,” she said. “I never worried for my safety. Now I do.”

Carol Black

Black, a survivor and Gottfried’s sister, told the court her brother was smart and humble and, above all, loved his family and friends.

For months after the shooting, Black said she heard gunfire in her head and had trouble sleeping.

“‘Could I have done anything different to save his life and the lives of Dan Stein and Mel Wax?’” she wondered, naming the members of the New Light Congregation who were killed. “I emerged from the building alive, but my brother is dead.”

She called the defendant a “despicable coward,” adding, “There isn’t a punishment severe enough for him.”

Rose Mallinger

Alan Mallinger said, when his mother left for synagogue that morning, the white tablecloth, folding chairs and serving utensils already were out for the family dinner they were to have that night.

The weekend that was to be filled with joy as they welcomed cousins from California turned to one of devastation and sorrow, he said.

Rose Mallinger was known at stores all over Squirrel Hill and had her hair done every Friday. She loved candy, sometimes having licorice and M&Ms as appetizers.

“She lived life full of love and laughter,” Alan said.

He told the judge his mother should have had many years left.

“This is not the way it should have ended,” he said.

Andrea Wedner

Wedner, Mallinger’s daughter who was shot in the arm as she lay under a pew in Pervin Chapel that day, praised her mother, who remained “spirited and vibrant.

“She died protecting me, as almost any mother would,” Wedner said.

Wedner remained on the floor for 40 minutes until she was found by responding public safety officers.

As she waited, she wondered what her family was thinking about.

“‘Do they know what happened? Do they think I’m dead? Will I see my husband and children again?”

She recalled being escorted from the building.

“I am haunted and forever chilled by what I saw as I was being rescued that day.”

The death penalty, Wedner continued, will give them certainty.

“The repugnant beliefs of this man have irrevocably changed not only my life but the lives of my family forever.”

Bernice and Sylvan Simon

Mark Simon spoke at length about his parents and described their loss as “immeasurable loss times two.”

He told the court that he still has his parents’ blood-soaked clothing and the prayer shawl his father wore at Shabbat services that morning.

His mom held it on Sylvan’s wounds to try to stop the bleeding after he was shot.

“I can’t part with them,” Simon said. “My parents died alone without any living soul to hold their hand or comfort them.”

The idea that his mother had to watch as his father died for 7 minutes and 37 seconds, Simon said, is an unspeakable torture.

Throughout his statement, Simon repeated the phrase “that man,” referring to the defendant more than 20 times.

“You will never be forgiven,” he said. “Your baseless and misguided hatred of Jews is inexplicably rampant.

“I almost feel a tiny speck of sorrow for what you could have become.”

Instead, Simon continued, “your voice … is permanently silenced.”

Michele Weis told the court she did not believe she could lose both of her parents — the most important people in her life — at the same time.

“This monster robbed me of that day and every day since,” she said.

Joyce Fienberg

Anthony Fienberg told the court that, after his mother was killed, he and his family couldn’t even mourn privately.

Now, nearly five years later, the impact of the loss of her and the loss of security remains.

“It never really stops,” he said.

When he enters a building for the first time, he looks for a place to hide or escape in case of attack.

“We have picked up the pieces and moved forward, but we haven’t moved on,” Fienberg said. “We have not let darkness win. We have not abandoned Pittsburgh or Judaism.”

Pittsburgh SWAT Officer Timothy Matson

Pittsburgh police Sgt. Jonathan Craig, who responded to the synagogue minutes after the attack was reported, described how it felt entering the building and then watching as his long-time friend, partner and SWAT team member, Tim Matson, crawled out of a classroom after being shot multiple times.

Then, Craig recounted how Bowers, who had been wounded in the shootout, called out for help.

“I couldn’t help but think how cowardly a request that was,” Craig said. “He wanted help and mercy after he showed neither to any of the victims.”

He remembered training his rifle on Bowers as he crawled out, hoping the suspect would do something violent “so I could end his life.

“It took every ounce of strength that I had not to do it anyway.”

Pittsburgh police Officer Michael Smigda

Smigda, who was one of the first responding officers and got shrapnel in his face when his partner was wounded, said he continues to feel hatred and rage toward Bowers.

“Even right now, I have a hard time quelling the rage and sadness,” he said. “The things I’ve thought about doing to him.”

Smigda said he has tried to move past it but can’t.

“One man shouldn’t have that much rage for another.”

Rabbi Jeffrey Myers

Myers, who leads the Tree of Life congregation, escaped the attack that day, hiding in a bathroom upstairs.

He told the court he sometimes is inconsolable and can’t concentrate. Still, he said, he feels an obligation to be a voice for hope to counter the hateful discourse that still exists.

As he was driving past the synagogue more than a year after the attack, he thought to himself that the granite of the building looks like a mausoleum.

“That’s when I came to the realization that the Tree of Life (synagogue) died that day,” he said. “My beloved synagogue is the twelfth victim.”

Audrey Glickman

Glickman, a member of Tree of Life, also escaped Pervin Chapel and hid among donated clothes upstairs, with her partner, Joe Charny.

“We survived together,” she said. “Our friends were killed in front of us.”

Glickman said Bowers entered the synagogue that morning as if they were in a war.

“This scum of a creature is, himself, less than nothing,” she said. “He came in hate. He acted in hate. He lives in hate.”

Stephen Weiss

Weiss, who led the junior congregation at the synagogue and escaped that morning, said he moved to a new community and now carries a gun with him to services.

“I will not allow myself to be vulnerable to anyone with antisemitic animus in my place of worship,” he said.

Martin Gaynor

Gaynor, a member of Dor Hadash who escaped the attack, said he thanks God every morning that he is still alive.

“But I struggle to accept that I survived while others did not,” he said.

He sometimes sees Dr. Jerry Rabinowitz, his good friend and fellow congregant, in his dreams.

When he wakes, Gaynor said, he feels sad and empty.

“It takes only one person who has let hate into their heart to commit grievous harm,” he said.

Doris Dyen and Deane Root

Members of Dor Hadash since 1987, they had just arrived at the synagogue when they heard shooting inside. They never made it into the building.

“I came within seconds of losing my own life,” Dyen said.

For months afterward, she was numb, depressed and angry but couldn’t cry. It took three months to realize she needed help. She’s been in weekly trauma counseling since.

She said she is, in principle, opposed to capital punishment.

“But,” she said, “he has forfeited the privilege of living because his actions show he does not respect life.”

Root was a music professor and chair of his department at the University of Pittsburgh when the attack happened. Afterward, he could no longer concentrate and had to retire.

During the trial, he said he felt anguish hearing that Bowers enjoyed listening to the testimony.

“Every time I see his name or picture in the newspaper, I blot it out.”

Dan Leger

Leger, who was gravely wounded as he ran to help the others that morning, expressed his gratitude to the jurors and attorneys in the case, including the defense team, “for valuing the sanctity of life even while their client does not.”

He challenged Bowers.

“Look at me — the Jew he needed to kill. I’m not a dirty (Jewish slur),” Leger said. “I’m the Jew he tried to kill.”

Leger said the attack has led some to become vengeful but has moved others to form friendships and recognize beauty.

“That I’m alive today is a miracle that I’m grateful for every morning,” he said. “I live every day wondering why I didn’t pull Jerry in the direction of Marty.

“I live every day in my gratitude and the unfairness that I am alive and 11 others were so brutally murdered.”

Irving Younger

Jared Younger, whose father was killed in the attack, began with a prayer, thanking God for creating everyone in the room. A Christian, he told the court about learning of the shooting while at his home in California.

“I remember begging God, pleading with God, one more hug,” he said.

Instead, his sister called, “Dad’s been shot, and he’s dead.”

Younger then spoke directly to the defendant.

“I want to say to you, Robert Bowers, I completely forgive you,” he said. “You are completely forgiven by me.”

He recounted the Lord’s Prayer, which calls on man to forgive those who have trespassed against them.

“What Robert Bowers did was pure evil — dark, twisted and demonic,” Younger said, calling him a sinner before adding that he could still redeem himself and find God.

“As long as there is breath in his lungs, there is time,” Younger said. “I love everyone in this courtroom … and that man, Robert Bowers, is no exception.”

Dan Stein

Sharyn Stein spoke briefly about her husband, a member of the New Light congregation. They had been married for 46 years, and, just seven months before the attack, had welcomed their first grandson.

Sharyn said her husband was her best friend, and they had been looking forward to retirement.

She described Danny, as she called him, as loving with a strong Jewish faith for which he was proud.

Cecil and David Rosenthal

“The boys,” as they were known, had Fragile X syndrome which caused developmental delays. Although they could not read, they participated fully in services with the Tree of Life congregation.

“My brothers died together, but we still stand together as a family,” Diane Rosenthal said.

She also thanked the judge, the prosecutors and investigators, saying that the death verdict will honor the lives lost that day.

Her husband, Michael Hirt, spoke for several minutes, criticizing Bowers’ defense team for their work during the trial, saying they employed delay tactics, were disorganized and verbose.

He also said their displays of compassion — including back pats — toward the defendant were “contemptible.”

“Doing your job is one thing, but displays of affection right in front of us were just plain wrong,” Hirt said. “The only conversations our family have with the boys occur at the cemetery.”

Addressing Bowers directly, he asked, “I wonder now if you are man enough to look up at us?”

Pausing for several uncomfortable seconds, Hirt concluded: “I didn’t think so.”

Robert Kennedy, Michele Rosenthal’s husband, called Bowers a coward.

Michele Rosenthal told the defendant that, before he killed her brothers and nine others that morning, she hadn’t thought much about immigration — a motive for the attack. Now, she said, she does. She said her family plans to make a donation to an immigration aid organization every year on Oct. 27 in Bowers’ name.

Then they will send him the receipt on death row.

“Cecil and David would have welcomed him to their synagogue, because that’s who they were,” Michele Rosenthal said. “The defendant did not.”

Jerry Rabinowitz

Although no one spoke from his family, Rabinowitz’s brother-in-law testified about him during the penalty-selection phase of the trial.

Daniel Kramer said then that he could not remember a time when Rabinowitz wasn’t smiling.

He remembered him as a kind physician who lived by a philosophy: “It’s better to be kind than to be right.”

Melvin Wax

Wax’s daughter, Jodi Kart, was in attendance at the sentencing hearing but did not give a statement. She previously testified about her father, who served in Germany during the Korean War.

“He was very much aware of antisemitism, and I was raised that way, as well,” she said. “He lived it. He had witnessed the Holocaust.”

She testified that her father had unconditional love for her.

“I knew to my core how much he loved me.”

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