Gunfire on a campus is a nightmare that never ends.

The full scope of what happened early Sunday morning on the Duquesne University campus is only beginning to unfold. It will take weeks, months and years to fully comprehend what this act of violence, enabled by our gun-obsessed society, means for the players involved, the basketball team for which they play, the university they attend and the city and region where they live.

All of those entities will be negatively impacted because of some punk with a gun.

For the moment and the foreseeable future, thoughts and prayers are focused on the victims, particularly Sam Ashaolu, who is fighting for his life in Mercy Hospital with a bullet in his head.

He was one of five Duquesne players originally hospitalized by a hail of bullets after an on-campus dance Saturday night. Only one other player, Stuard Baldonado, remains hospitalized. His condition is not life threatening and possibly not threatening to his basketball career.

A police investigation has revealed the shooting was the result of an age-old motive: jealousy. Oh, that this could have been resolved with what once was the age-old method of handling such disputes: Fists.

But in the United States of the 21st century guns are the preferred method of intimidation and settling scores.

While Ashaolu remains critical and Baldanado works toward resuming a normal life, the collateral damage continues to pile up.

Duquesne will be hit hard by this and what a rotten shame that is for this fine and honorable institution. Duquesne had been regarded as one of the safest urban campuses in the country. Tucked, as it is, in an almost forgotten neighborhood called The Bluff, about a mile from the heart of Downtown, it was possible to live on the campus and be virtually untouched by city life. Sure, for decades students have found their way to the more rough-and-tumble Uptown section where they frequented bars and restaurants. But once back up the hill to the campus, there was always a feeling of security.

No more.

A stigma is attached to Duquesne, which it doesn't deserve but will wear for the longest time. To young men considering a place to further their basketball careers and to parents looking for a college for their children, Duquesne will be known as the place where those basketball players were shot. That status will not encourage enrollment.

The very nature of its reputation will help Duquesne reduce that stigma but it won't soon be overturned.

And it's not just Duquesne. Its neighboring schools, maybe a mile or so away, Carlow and Pitt, will be affected. Fairly or not, any college in Pittsburgh will be linked to this act of violence, just as the city and the region will.

The schools, the city and the region will survive this. Whether the snakebitten Duquesne basketball program can do the same remains questionable. Among the more than 300 schools that play Division I basketball, the Dukes have ranked near the bottom for most of the past decade. They've had one winning season out of the past 20 and were 3-24 last season.

But in these ruins there was hope. A bright, energetic, savvy athletic director, Greg Amodio, had taken over. He was steering Duquesne on a better path. The best move he made was hiring Ron Everhart, a dynamic rebuilder of broken programs. Everhart is tremendously well-connected in the world of amateur basketball. If a player was available, regardless of location, he knew about him.

This skill allowed Everhart to recruit virtually an entire new team composed mostly of players wanting or needing a second chance. Only two players from last season stayed with the program. Everhart brought in 10 new players in one of the most sweeping turnarounds in the recent history of Division I basketball.

While their attention is focused on the injured players, Amodio and Everhart have to wonder about the future. Both are intent on repairing the school's reputation because they know it has been tarnished.

"What we have to stand on is a historical record of having been a very, very safe campus with a great record of public safety," Amodio said. "It was an isolated incident and nothing like that ever has happened before."

He's right, of course, and it can only be hoped people will hear his words and believe them.

Asked to look to the future, Everhart could not. His concern was with the present.

"I haven't thought much about the future," he said. "My first thought is with these guys. I think my players have shown through their actions what kind of people they are. The way they acted during this senseless act of violence makes me proud.

"If I were a guy who played on a team, these are the kind of guys I'd want to play with."

A tough and troubling road is ahead for Duquesne on and off the basketball court.

In this tragedy, starting at the top with president Charles Dougherty and down to Amodio and Everhart, there's been outstanding leadership.

It's what Duquesne will need in the weeks and months ahead. That and a lot more.

A stigma is attached to Duquesne, which it doesn't deserve but will wear for the longest time.