At a community music night Tuesday, Marilyn Shutter led 65 people in Trinity Free Lutheran north of Bemidji in a rousing version of "She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain."

About 9:30 p.m. Thanksgiving Day, Ted Shutter called the Beltrami County Sheriff's Office to say Marilyn had been shot. She was pronounced dead at North Country Regional Hospital in Bemidji, where she had worked for decades.

Shutter's grandson was taken into custody in connection with the shooting, according to Beltrami County Sheriff Keith Winger, who released little other information.

The shooting death struck deep among friends and family of Shutter, who described her as a wonderfully talented person who gave herself to a variety of efforts in a community she has lived since she was a child.

Shutter didn't attend church there, but loved the community music nights. In the past two years, Shutter had taken up the Dobro, a guitar with aluminum resonators. She laid it flat on her lap to play. She had just bought two new ones.

Tuesday night in Trinity, the regular musicians sat in a circle, taking turns with songs. When it was her turn, Shutter got everyone involved, said Mary Ann Lewis.

"She had a little brown paper bag filled with spoons, little metal cups, measuring cups," Lewis said. "She passed them around and they were supposed to make noise in time with the song, "She's Be Comin' Round the Mountain," with Marilyn leading. She would do this in old folks' homes, with senior citizens, she was really into this. She was a wonderful piano player. Really a group leader and everyone loved her for it."

"She just had a way with people," said Wendy Hempel, who worked with Shutter. "When you are providing medical equipment, you are working with a lot of elderly people or people in serious health situations, and they always appreciate a kind person and someone who understands. And she has worked with the hospital for many, many years and has a good rapport with people."

Manager Gary Johnson said, "She was my first hire, in 1987. She was my reimbursement manager. She was exceptional. She was extremely talented and knowledgeable in the insurance billing service."

Shutter also was certified to work professionally with patients, fitting prosthetic breasts on women who had cancer surgery, for example. Such devices need regular adjustments and new fittings, Johnson said. "This will affect our patient population because Marilyn has worked with people for years, building day-to-day relationships. So this will be affecting us for years to come.

"She liked to do what she liked to call unconventional things, like play at funerals for people that we had served." Plus, she wrote jingles for radio advertisements for the company.

"Marilyn was the spark plug for the fair association," said Paul Hokuf, facilities manager. "She was the treasurer, but along with that she filled the role of being the one that knew where everything was and how to get things done. She was the spokesman when someone came around asking questions. She was the one who knew what needed to be done."

Marilyn Shutter grew up a preacher's kid, playing piano in church. Her father served Nazarene congregations in South Dakota, North Dakota and Minnesota.

"She was just incredibly gifted musically," said a relative who asked not to be named. "She could hear something once and play it flawlessly on the piano. If you started talking to her about the Dobro, she just sparkled. But she sparkled anyway."

This fall, at music night in Trinity, Shutter played a novelty instrument she had made of a cowboy boot, two hubcaps and screen-door springs, Lewis said. "She played it with a stick and stomped the boot and everyone sang along with it. That is a good rendition of what Marilyn is. It shows the exuberance of Marilyn and what she does for people."

"Mary Ann, you always seem to choose the song my heart needs," Shutter wrote, Lewis said, unable to read it without weeping. "I feel blessed to be there. Hang in there. The Lord is touching this unique ministry."

"She was always positive when she talked about him, but you could tell she had a challenge to work with him," said a close friend. "But she never complained about it."

The Shutters hunted deer each fall and had several guns in the house, friends said. This year, the grandson "had gotten a really nice buck," said Hokuf. "And he was so proud of that."

Trinity church is only a few miles from the Red Lake Indian Reservation on state Highway 89. Last March at a music night, Shutter talked to the St. Paul Pioneer Press about the school shooting by a 16-year-old that took 10 lives.

"I had a father and I had a church full of fathers who cared about me when I was growing up," Shutter said in March. "What's been going on in my mind the last couple days is that maybe we ... haven't taken enough time to get to know kids. Our churches are huge. Our schools are huge. Our communities are huge. And kids need adults that think they're terrific. Maybe I can do a better job of that."

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