POST FALLS — When talking about Forrest Chapin and how the congregation at Calvary Lutheran Church felt about him, Pastor Matt Erickson turned to the words of children.

“He was my friend. He was kind, funny and gave good hugs,” Erickson said, reading a note.

His voice breaks with emotion as he continues: “Why would someone do that to him? He was in our church family. I'm scared and I want to move.”

Another note read, “Forrest was like a grandpa to me. He was always so nice to me. It feels like he's still here with us. I will miss his smiles.”

Chapin, 86, was shot and killed in his Post Falls home on Feb. 11. Since his death, family and friends have reflected on Chapin’s life. They want people to know who he was, what he did, and how he impacted those around him.

Erickson said that at the time of his death, Chapin was helping a relative battling addiction by giving her a place to live. The suspect in the case showed up there.

“The reason he ended up dying is because he just loved people,” Erickson said.

Francis D. Gunseor, 35, of Coeur d'Alene, has been charged in connection with Chapin’s death.

Gunseor is being held in the Kootenai County jail on $2 million bond on charges of murder, first-degree attempted murder, robbery, burglary and unlawful possession of a firearm.

According to Post Falls Police, Gunseor forced himself into a residence in the 2100 block of Columbine Court and shot an adult female. He then shot an adult male multiple times before fleeing in a vehicle.

The woman was treated for her injuries, transported to Kootenai Health and was in stable condition.

Gunseor was later located in his vehicle by Coeur d’Alene Police in the area of Ninth Street and Best Avenue. The vehicle was stopped and Gunseor shot himself, police said. He was transported to Kootenai Health.

On Feb. 16, he was released from the hospital and immediately taken to jail.

Police said it's believed Gunseor knew the victims.

The male victim, Chapin, was pronounced dead on the scene.

Police did not identify Chapin as the victim in the shooting, but family and friends did.

Chapin, the son of Roy and Madeline Chapin, grew up in the Rose Lake area on the family farm and could fix pretty much anything. He later served in the Air Force and received several letters of commendation.

He worked as a mechanic in the Silver Valley and lived in Alaska for a time. He loved family, friends, fishing, hunting and woodworking.

His son, Glenn Chapin of Bayview, said his father was firm but fair. He joked that his dad “never heard of child labor laws” because he made his son collect firewood, which he sold for money to buy Christmas presents.

Glenn Chapin said his father worked hard, volunteered and never said no to helping people.

“He did so much for others at his own expense,” Glenn Chapin said. “I think that’s what got him killed.”

Daughter Colleen Roberts of Kingston said her dad was strong, even in his eighth decade on Earth. When he was 84, he helped replace a transmission in an SUV. He also operated a vending machine business, repairing and moving the heavy machines himself.

“He was the best mechanic,” she said. “He just knew how to fix things.”

He was a good provider, Roberts said. She recalled summer camping trips when her father would go off with rod and reel and return with “a mess of fish for dinner.”

“There wasn’t anything dad wouldn’t do for his kids,” she said. “He would go beyond to help you out.”

It didn’t matter if he knew someone for minutes or years; he was their friend and they were his.

Her father taught her to be kind and respectful.

“Please and thank you were very important,” Roberts said.

And while he didn’t have a lot of money, he opened his door to those in need. Some took advantage of his kindness.

“He was that kind of person,” Roberts said. “Unfortunately, that’s how he died.”

She said her father “needed to believe, needed to do right by people, needed to have respect for people.”

“I think that was his greatest asset,” she said.

Chapin for years was a volunteer extraordinaire at Calvary Lutheran. He ushered, handed out bulletins and enjoyed being around children. He was known as a joyful man, with a ready smile and steady hand.

Ronald Voights and Chapin volunteered in the church's Giving Garden. Forrest was the first one to arrive, repairing equipment, tilling the soil and moving hoses.

He offered to do more than asked.

“Every day, he would be more than willing to do anything for anybody,” Voights said.

Another church member, Barry Harris, agreed.

“Forrest didn't have a pot to piss in, but you know, he would do what he could for anybody with whatever he had,” he said.

Randy Teall said when he started going to Calvary Lutheran five years ago, Chapin introduced himself.

“I thought, ‘Who is this strange guy?’ But as I got to know him, he was a special person,” Teall said, smiling.

“He would give the shirt off his back and he didn't have many shirts,” Teall continued. “And when he gave that, he would give the next guy his socks, and his shoes. That's just the way he was.”

He said Chapin was not a scholar, but was a spiritual man who read the Bible, prayed, and had a close relationship with Jesus Christ.

“I remember every Sunday when we'd go up for communion, Forrest would be the last one up from kneeling,” Teall said. “And I knew why he was there. He was bringing his heart out.”

Erickson said Chapin would talk to him about opening his home to those in need. He knew it came with some risk as people brought their troubled backgrounds with them. Some stole from him. Yet, the doors stayed open.

“He knew that welcoming struggling addicts into his home was not a safe thing to do. But he knew that there wasn't a possibility for them to get beyond that if somebody didn't give him a chance,” Erickson said. “I think his attitude was, ’What do I have to lose? I've had a good life. I got my stuff taken care of. I’m all right.’”

Following Chapin’s death, Erickson sent an email to the congregation and spoke about what happened during a Sunday service.

He said he has no doubt that Chapin would do the same thing over, even if he knew it meant he would die.

“I think he would do it still. I think he would,” Erickson said. “It wasn't naivety. It was hope. And he just hoped that, ‘Boy, this time, it's going to be different. This time, they're going to figure it out. This time, they're going to get the help they need.’”

This time, maybe they will.