......................................................................................................................................................................................................................
 In the early morning hours of Sunday, June 12, a gunman killed 49 and wounded 53 more inside Pulse, a gay nightclub in Orlando, Fla. It was the deadliest mass shooting in American history. The hate crime took place on Latin night, targeting hispanic members of the LGBTQ community.   Above: Friends and family grieve after a list of hospitalized victims was released, implying the death of those who weren't on the list and hadn't been heard from, outside a Hampton Inn & Suites hotel near the Orlando Regional Medical Center in Orlando, Fla., on Sunday, June 12, 2016. 

In the early morning hours of Sunday, June 12, a gunman killed 49 and wounded 53 more inside Pulse, a gay nightclub in Orlando, Fla. It was the deadliest mass shooting in American history. The hate crime took place on Latin night, targeting hispanic members of the LGBTQ community. 

Above: Friends and family grieve after a list of hospitalized victims was released, implying the death of those who weren't on the list and hadn't been heard from, outside a Hampton Inn & Suites hotel near the Orlando Regional Medical Center in Orlando, Fla., on Sunday, June 12, 2016. 

 FBI officials investigate the Pulse crime scene on South Orange Avenue in Orlando, Fla. Omar Mateen began the attack at approximately 2 a.m. with an AR-15-style assault rifle. The club turned into a hostage situation, as Mateen and law enforcement entered a three-hour standoff. 

FBI officials investigate the Pulse crime scene on South Orange Avenue in Orlando, Fla. Omar Mateen began the attack at approximately 2 a.m. with an AR-15-style assault rifle. The club turned into a hostage situation, as Mateen and law enforcement entered a three-hour standoff. 

 A sign is seen taped up at an intersection a few blocks from the Pulse crime scene. 

A sign is seen taped up at an intersection a few blocks from the Pulse crime scene. 

 Jose Hernandez (in gray) holds hands with friend Victor Bayez as they grieve the loss of close friends Amanda Alvear and Mercedez Flores at a vigil held in front of the Dr. P. Phillips Center for the Performing Arts in downtown Orlando.

Jose Hernandez (in gray) holds hands with friend Victor Bayez as they grieve the loss of close friends Amanda Alvear and Mercedez Flores at a vigil held in front of the Dr. P. Phillips Center for the Performing Arts in downtown Orlando.

 Mourners attend a candlelight vigil in downtown Orlando. Honored were those killed in the mass shooting that left 49 dead and many more wounded at an Orlando gay nightclub. Carlos Guillermo Smith of Equality Florida, one of the evening's speakers, told the crowd there’s no mistake the shooting was intended to “send a message of hate against the Latino and LGBT people, which in turn is an attack on all humanity.” 

Mourners attend a candlelight vigil in downtown Orlando. Honored were those killed in the mass shooting that left 49 dead and many more wounded at an Orlando gay nightclub. Carlos Guillermo Smith of Equality Florida, one of the evening's speakers, told the crowd there’s no mistake the shooting was intended to “send a message of hate against the Latino and LGBT people, which in turn is an attack on all humanity.” 

 Anthony Luis Laureano Disla's casket vault is seen moments before a gravedigger buried it at Greenwood Cemetery in Orlando. Disla was one of four Pulse victims buried at the public cemetery, where the city offered free burials following the shooting. 

Anthony Luis Laureano Disla's casket vault is seen moments before a gravedigger buried it at Greenwood Cemetery in Orlando. Disla was one of four Pulse victims buried at the public cemetery, where the city offered free burials following the shooting. 

 Local pastor Annette Stubbs cries and prays in the street near the Pulse crime scene, mourning the lives lost.

Local pastor Annette Stubbs cries and prays in the street near the Pulse crime scene, mourning the lives lost.

 An FBI official is seen at the back wall of Pulse surrounded by bullet casing markers, where a shootout took place between law enforcement and shooter Omar Mateen. A BearCat armored rescue vehicle was used to break through the club wall and free those still alive inside, according to Orlando police chief John Mina. Omar Mateen was killed in the shootout. 

An FBI official is seen at the back wall of Pulse surrounded by bullet casing markers, where a shootout took place between law enforcement and shooter Omar Mateen. A BearCat armored rescue vehicle was used to break through the club wall and free those still alive inside, according to Orlando police chief John Mina. Omar Mateen was killed in the shootout. 

 Wayne Dominici, 23, cries as he is consoled by his aunt, Ada Dominici, at a memorial outside Pulse nightclub. Wayne Dominici lives in New York City, but said that he felt deeply affected by the tragedy as a hispanic gay man and needed to visit the memorial. 

Wayne Dominici, 23, cries as he is consoled by his aunt, Ada Dominici, at a memorial outside Pulse nightclub. Wayne Dominici lives in New York City, but said that he felt deeply affected by the tragedy as a hispanic gay man and needed to visit the memorial. 

 Patience Carter, a survivor of the Pulse shooting, is overcome with emotion after speaking about the events of that night to the media at Florida Hospital. Carter sustained gunshot wounds to both legs. 

Patience Carter, a survivor of the Pulse shooting, is overcome with emotion after speaking about the events of that night to the media at Florida Hospital. Carter sustained gunshot wounds to both legs. 

 Christina Rivera pays her respects to the lives lost at Pulse with a custom haircut and 49 candles in the shape of a heart, one for each victim of the shooting, at a memorial in front of Pulse in Orlando. Rivera is an Orlando resident and member of the LGBT community.

Christina Rivera pays her respects to the lives lost at Pulse with a custom haircut and 49 candles in the shape of a heart, one for each victim of the shooting, at a memorial in front of Pulse in Orlando. Rivera is an Orlando resident and member of the LGBT community.

 Tiffany Findley (left) kisses partner Adriana Kelley during a counter-protest held in opposition of the threatened presence of Westboro Baptist Church outside a wake honoring the life of Javier Jorge-Reyes at Family Funeral Care in Orlando. 

Tiffany Findley (left) kisses partner Adriana Kelley during a counter-protest held in opposition of the threatened presence of Westboro Baptist Church outside a wake honoring the life of Javier Jorge-Reyes at Family Funeral Care in Orlando. 

 Family and friends mourn loved ones, killed exactly one month prior by a gunman inside Pulse nightclub, at Greenwood Cemetery in Orlando, Fla., on Tuesday, July 12, 2016. Seen here, buried are Alejandro Barrios Martinez, Cory James Connell, Anthony Luis Laureano Disla and Leroy Valentin Fernandez. The plots were provided by the city at no charge. 

Family and friends mourn loved ones, killed exactly one month prior by a gunman inside Pulse nightclub, at Greenwood Cemetery in Orlando, Fla., on Tuesday, July 12, 2016. Seen here, buried are Alejandro Barrios Martinez, Cory James Connell, Anthony Luis Laureano Disla and Leroy Valentin Fernandez. The plots were provided by the city at no charge. 

 Angel Santiago, a Pulse survivor who was shot in both legs, stares out the window of his room at HealthSouth Rehabilitation Hospital in Altamonte Springs, Fla. Family and friends came to visit when they could, but 25 days spent in hospital facilities still resulted in periods of isolation and loneliness. ( Angel's story for the Tampa Bay Times )

Angel Santiago, a Pulse survivor who was shot in both legs, stares out the window of his room at HealthSouth Rehabilitation Hospital in Altamonte Springs, Fla. Family and friends came to visit when they could, but 25 days spent in hospital facilities still resulted in periods of isolation and loneliness. (Angel's story for the Tampa Bay Times)

 Angel Santiago does resistance exercise with physical therapist Saloni Agarwal in the therapy gym at HealthSouth Rehabilitation Hospital in Altamonte Springs, Fla. Santiago joked about needing a pedicure while at Florida Hospital, so the nurses there arranged one for him. Only his right foot could be pedicured, as his left foot was still bandaged because of a healing bullet wound. 

Angel Santiago does resistance exercise with physical therapist Saloni Agarwal in the therapy gym at HealthSouth Rehabilitation Hospital in Altamonte Springs, Fla. Santiago joked about needing a pedicure while at Florida Hospital, so the nurses there arranged one for him. Only his right foot could be pedicured, as his left foot was still bandaged because of a healing bullet wound. 

 Angel Santiago wheels his way toward the therapy gym at HealthSouth Rehabilitation Hospital in Altamonte Springs, Fla., with physical therapist Saloni Agarwal. Santiago experienced significant muscle atrophy following the shooting, and needed to regain strength despite continuing pain from his injuries. 

Angel Santiago wheels his way toward the therapy gym at HealthSouth Rehabilitation Hospital in Altamonte Springs, Fla., with physical therapist Saloni Agarwal. Santiago experienced significant muscle atrophy following the shooting, and needed to regain strength despite continuing pain from his injuries. 

 Angel Santiago lies exhausted on his bed after struggling to get upstairs from the living room of his home in Sanford, Fla. Limited to a walker or crutches to get around with the use of only one leg, it was a tiring ordeal for Santiago just to navigate his own home. 

Angel Santiago lies exhausted on his bed after struggling to get upstairs from the living room of his home in Sanford, Fla. Limited to a walker or crutches to get around with the use of only one leg, it was a tiring ordeal for Santiago just to navigate his own home. 

 Angel Santiago inspects the healing entry wound where a bullet went through his knee while sitting on his bed at his home in Sanford, Fla., more than a month after the shooting. Another bullet pierced his left heel, shattering the bone. 

Angel Santiago inspects the healing entry wound where a bullet went through his knee while sitting on his bed at his home in Sanford, Fla., more than a month after the shooting. Another bullet pierced his left heel, shattering the bone. 

 Angel Santiago kisses infant nephew Roman Santiago at their home in Sanford, Fla. Angel's sister-in-law Ashley Santiago gave birth to Roman prematurely nine days after the Pulse shooting, leaving her husband and Angel's brother, Sam Santiago, commuting between two hospitals. Angel balanced uncle-duties with his own rehabilitation once he was released to go home. 

Angel Santiago kisses infant nephew Roman Santiago at their home in Sanford, Fla. Angel's sister-in-law Ashley Santiago gave birth to Roman prematurely nine days after the Pulse shooting, leaving her husband and Angel's brother, Sam Santiago, commuting between two hospitals. Angel balanced uncle-duties with his own rehabilitation once he was released to go home. 

 Angel Santiago (second from left) holds hands with fellow members of QLatinX, a support group founded in response to the Pulse shooting and with the mission of empowering LGBTQ Latinos, in Orlando, Fla., on Thursday, Sept. 22, 2016. Santiago attends weekly gatherings, where members work to empower one another in overcoming the challenges of being part of a marginalized community. The founders of the group felt that while there were already organizations dedicated to Latino communities and others dedicated to LGBTQ communities, none existed to support individuals living at the intersection of those identities. 

Angel Santiago (second from left) holds hands with fellow members of QLatinX, a support group founded in response to the Pulse shooting and with the mission of empowering LGBTQ Latinos, in Orlando, Fla., on Thursday, Sept. 22, 2016. Santiago attends weekly gatherings, where members work to empower one another in overcoming the challenges of being part of a marginalized community. The founders of the group felt that while there were already organizations dedicated to Latino communities and others dedicated to LGBTQ communities, none existed to support individuals living at the intersection of those identities. 

 On the one-year anniversary of the shooting at Pulse, survivor Angel Santiago walks past the nightclub memorial with brother Sam and nephew Roman. The site will be turned into a permanent memorial and museum honoring the 49 lives lost. 

On the one-year anniversary of the shooting at Pulse, survivor Angel Santiago walks past the nightclub memorial with brother Sam and nephew Roman. The site will be turned into a permanent memorial and museum honoring the 49 lives lost. 

In the early morning hours of Sunday, June 12, a gunman killed 49 and wounded 53 more inside Pulse, a gay nightclub in Orlando, Fla. It was the deadliest mass shooting in American history. The hate crime took place on Latin night, targeting hispanic members of the LGBTQ community. 

Above: Friends and family grieve after a list of hospitalized victims was released, implying the death of those who weren't on the list and hadn't been heard from, outside a Hampton Inn & Suites hotel near the Orlando Regional Medical Center in Orlando, Fla., on Sunday, June 12, 2016. 

FBI officials investigate the Pulse crime scene on South Orange Avenue in Orlando, Fla. Omar Mateen began the attack at approximately 2 a.m. with an AR-15-style assault rifle. The club turned into a hostage situation, as Mateen and law enforcement entered a three-hour standoff. 

A sign is seen taped up at an intersection a few blocks from the Pulse crime scene. 

Jose Hernandez (in gray) holds hands with friend Victor Bayez as they grieve the loss of close friends Amanda Alvear and Mercedez Flores at a vigil held in front of the Dr. P. Phillips Center for the Performing Arts in downtown Orlando.

Mourners attend a candlelight vigil in downtown Orlando. Honored were those killed in the mass shooting that left 49 dead and many more wounded at an Orlando gay nightclub. Carlos Guillermo Smith of Equality Florida, one of the evening's speakers, told the crowd there’s no mistake the shooting was intended to “send a message of hate against the Latino and LGBT people, which in turn is an attack on all humanity.” 

Anthony Luis Laureano Disla's casket vault is seen moments before a gravedigger buried it at Greenwood Cemetery in Orlando. Disla was one of four Pulse victims buried at the public cemetery, where the city offered free burials following the shooting. 

Local pastor Annette Stubbs cries and prays in the street near the Pulse crime scene, mourning the lives lost.

An FBI official is seen at the back wall of Pulse surrounded by bullet casing markers, where a shootout took place between law enforcement and shooter Omar Mateen. A BearCat armored rescue vehicle was used to break through the club wall and free those still alive inside, according to Orlando police chief John Mina. Omar Mateen was killed in the shootout. 

Wayne Dominici, 23, cries as he is consoled by his aunt, Ada Dominici, at a memorial outside Pulse nightclub. Wayne Dominici lives in New York City, but said that he felt deeply affected by the tragedy as a hispanic gay man and needed to visit the memorial. 

Patience Carter, a survivor of the Pulse shooting, is overcome with emotion after speaking about the events of that night to the media at Florida Hospital. Carter sustained gunshot wounds to both legs. 

Christina Rivera pays her respects to the lives lost at Pulse with a custom haircut and 49 candles in the shape of a heart, one for each victim of the shooting, at a memorial in front of Pulse in Orlando. Rivera is an Orlando resident and member of the LGBT community.

Tiffany Findley (left) kisses partner Adriana Kelley during a counter-protest held in opposition of the threatened presence of Westboro Baptist Church outside a wake honoring the life of Javier Jorge-Reyes at Family Funeral Care in Orlando. 

Family and friends mourn loved ones, killed exactly one month prior by a gunman inside Pulse nightclub, at Greenwood Cemetery in Orlando, Fla., on Tuesday, July 12, 2016. Seen here, buried are Alejandro Barrios Martinez, Cory James Connell, Anthony Luis Laureano Disla and Leroy Valentin Fernandez. The plots were provided by the city at no charge. 

Angel Santiago, a Pulse survivor who was shot in both legs, stares out the window of his room at HealthSouth Rehabilitation Hospital in Altamonte Springs, Fla. Family and friends came to visit when they could, but 25 days spent in hospital facilities still resulted in periods of isolation and loneliness. (Angel's story for the Tampa Bay Times)

Angel Santiago does resistance exercise with physical therapist Saloni Agarwal in the therapy gym at HealthSouth Rehabilitation Hospital in Altamonte Springs, Fla. Santiago joked about needing a pedicure while at Florida Hospital, so the nurses there arranged one for him. Only his right foot could be pedicured, as his left foot was still bandaged because of a healing bullet wound. 

Angel Santiago wheels his way toward the therapy gym at HealthSouth Rehabilitation Hospital in Altamonte Springs, Fla., with physical therapist Saloni Agarwal. Santiago experienced significant muscle atrophy following the shooting, and needed to regain strength despite continuing pain from his injuries. 

Angel Santiago lies exhausted on his bed after struggling to get upstairs from the living room of his home in Sanford, Fla. Limited to a walker or crutches to get around with the use of only one leg, it was a tiring ordeal for Santiago just to navigate his own home. 

Angel Santiago inspects the healing entry wound where a bullet went through his knee while sitting on his bed at his home in Sanford, Fla., more than a month after the shooting. Another bullet pierced his left heel, shattering the bone. 

Angel Santiago kisses infant nephew Roman Santiago at their home in Sanford, Fla. Angel's sister-in-law Ashley Santiago gave birth to Roman prematurely nine days after the Pulse shooting, leaving her husband and Angel's brother, Sam Santiago, commuting between two hospitals. Angel balanced uncle-duties with his own rehabilitation once he was released to go home. 

Angel Santiago (second from left) holds hands with fellow members of QLatinX, a support group founded in response to the Pulse shooting and with the mission of empowering LGBTQ Latinos, in Orlando, Fla., on Thursday, Sept. 22, 2016. Santiago attends weekly gatherings, where members work to empower one another in overcoming the challenges of being part of a marginalized community. The founders of the group felt that while there were already organizations dedicated to Latino communities and others dedicated to LGBTQ communities, none existed to support individuals living at the intersection of those identities. 

On the one-year anniversary of the shooting at Pulse, survivor Angel Santiago walks past the nightclub memorial with brother Sam and nephew Roman. The site will be turned into a permanent memorial and museum honoring the 49 lives lost. 

 In the early morning hours of Sunday, June 12, a gunman killed 49 and wounded 53 more inside Pulse, a gay nightclub in Orlando, Fla. It was the deadliest mass shooting in American history. The hate crime took place on Latin night, targeting hispanic members of the LGBTQ community.   Above: Friends and family grieve after a list of hospitalized victims was released, implying the death of those who weren't on the list and hadn't been heard from, outside a Hampton Inn & Suites hotel near the Orlando Regional Medical Center in Orlando, Fla., on Sunday, June 12, 2016. 
 FBI officials investigate the Pulse crime scene on South Orange Avenue in Orlando, Fla. Omar Mateen began the attack at approximately 2 a.m. with an AR-15-style assault rifle. The club turned into a hostage situation, as Mateen and law enforcement entered a three-hour standoff. 
 A sign is seen taped up at an intersection a few blocks from the Pulse crime scene. 
 Jose Hernandez (in gray) holds hands with friend Victor Bayez as they grieve the loss of close friends Amanda Alvear and Mercedez Flores at a vigil held in front of the Dr. P. Phillips Center for the Performing Arts in downtown Orlando.
 Mourners attend a candlelight vigil in downtown Orlando. Honored were those killed in the mass shooting that left 49 dead and many more wounded at an Orlando gay nightclub. Carlos Guillermo Smith of Equality Florida, one of the evening's speakers, told the crowd there’s no mistake the shooting was intended to “send a message of hate against the Latino and LGBT people, which in turn is an attack on all humanity.” 
 Anthony Luis Laureano Disla's casket vault is seen moments before a gravedigger buried it at Greenwood Cemetery in Orlando. Disla was one of four Pulse victims buried at the public cemetery, where the city offered free burials following the shooting. 
 Local pastor Annette Stubbs cries and prays in the street near the Pulse crime scene, mourning the lives lost.
 An FBI official is seen at the back wall of Pulse surrounded by bullet casing markers, where a shootout took place between law enforcement and shooter Omar Mateen. A BearCat armored rescue vehicle was used to break through the club wall and free those still alive inside, according to Orlando police chief John Mina. Omar Mateen was killed in the shootout. 
 Wayne Dominici, 23, cries as he is consoled by his aunt, Ada Dominici, at a memorial outside Pulse nightclub. Wayne Dominici lives in New York City, but said that he felt deeply affected by the tragedy as a hispanic gay man and needed to visit the memorial. 
 Patience Carter, a survivor of the Pulse shooting, is overcome with emotion after speaking about the events of that night to the media at Florida Hospital. Carter sustained gunshot wounds to both legs. 
 Christina Rivera pays her respects to the lives lost at Pulse with a custom haircut and 49 candles in the shape of a heart, one for each victim of the shooting, at a memorial in front of Pulse in Orlando. Rivera is an Orlando resident and member of the LGBT community.
 Tiffany Findley (left) kisses partner Adriana Kelley during a counter-protest held in opposition of the threatened presence of Westboro Baptist Church outside a wake honoring the life of Javier Jorge-Reyes at Family Funeral Care in Orlando. 
 Family and friends mourn loved ones, killed exactly one month prior by a gunman inside Pulse nightclub, at Greenwood Cemetery in Orlando, Fla., on Tuesday, July 12, 2016. Seen here, buried are Alejandro Barrios Martinez, Cory James Connell, Anthony Luis Laureano Disla and Leroy Valentin Fernandez. The plots were provided by the city at no charge. 
 Angel Santiago, a Pulse survivor who was shot in both legs, stares out the window of his room at HealthSouth Rehabilitation Hospital in Altamonte Springs, Fla. Family and friends came to visit when they could, but 25 days spent in hospital facilities still resulted in periods of isolation and loneliness. ( Angel's story for the Tampa Bay Times )
 Angel Santiago does resistance exercise with physical therapist Saloni Agarwal in the therapy gym at HealthSouth Rehabilitation Hospital in Altamonte Springs, Fla. Santiago joked about needing a pedicure while at Florida Hospital, so the nurses there arranged one for him. Only his right foot could be pedicured, as his left foot was still bandaged because of a healing bullet wound. 
 Angel Santiago wheels his way toward the therapy gym at HealthSouth Rehabilitation Hospital in Altamonte Springs, Fla., with physical therapist Saloni Agarwal. Santiago experienced significant muscle atrophy following the shooting, and needed to regain strength despite continuing pain from his injuries. 
 Angel Santiago lies exhausted on his bed after struggling to get upstairs from the living room of his home in Sanford, Fla. Limited to a walker or crutches to get around with the use of only one leg, it was a tiring ordeal for Santiago just to navigate his own home. 
 Angel Santiago inspects the healing entry wound where a bullet went through his knee while sitting on his bed at his home in Sanford, Fla., more than a month after the shooting. Another bullet pierced his left heel, shattering the bone. 
 Angel Santiago kisses infant nephew Roman Santiago at their home in Sanford, Fla. Angel's sister-in-law Ashley Santiago gave birth to Roman prematurely nine days after the Pulse shooting, leaving her husband and Angel's brother, Sam Santiago, commuting between two hospitals. Angel balanced uncle-duties with his own rehabilitation once he was released to go home. 
 Angel Santiago (second from left) holds hands with fellow members of QLatinX, a support group founded in response to the Pulse shooting and with the mission of empowering LGBTQ Latinos, in Orlando, Fla., on Thursday, Sept. 22, 2016. Santiago attends weekly gatherings, where members work to empower one another in overcoming the challenges of being part of a marginalized community. The founders of the group felt that while there were already organizations dedicated to Latino communities and others dedicated to LGBTQ communities, none existed to support individuals living at the intersection of those identities. 
 On the one-year anniversary of the shooting at Pulse, survivor Angel Santiago walks past the nightclub memorial with brother Sam and nephew Roman. The site will be turned into a permanent memorial and museum honoring the 49 lives lost.