DALLAS (AP) — As shots rang out in the hallways and classrooms of Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, one of the terrified teachers who frantically dialed 911 described "a lot, a whole lot of gunshots," while another sobbed into the phone as a dispatcher urged her to stay quiet.

"Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry!" the first teacher cried before hanging up.

Those calls, along with bodycam footage and surveillance videos, were included in a massive collection of audio and video recordings released by officials of the city of Uvalde on Saturday after a prolonged legal fight. The Associated Press and other news organizations brought a lawsuit after the officials initially refused to publicly release the information from one of the worst school shootings in U.S. history.

One of the first calls police received on the morning of May 24, 2022, came from a woman who called 911 to report that a pickup truck had crashed into a ditch and that the occupant had run onto the school campus.

"Oh my God, they have a gun," she said.

In a 911 call a few minutes later, a man screams: "He's shooting at the kids! Get back!"

"He's inside the school! He's inside the school," he yells as the screams of others can also be heard.

"Oh my God in the name of Jesus. He's inside the school shooting at the kids," he says.

The delayed law enforcement response to the shooting — nearly 400 officers waited more than 70 minutes before confronting the gunman in a classroom filled with dead and wounded children and teachers — has been widely condemned as a massive failure.

The gunman, 18-year-old Salvador Ramos, was fatally shot by authorities at 12:50 p.m. He had entered the school at 11:33 a.m., officials said.

Just before arriving at the school, Ramos shot and wounded his grandmother at her home. He then took a pickup from the home and drove to the school.

Ramos' distraught uncle made several 911 calls begging to be put through so he could try to get his nephew to stop shooting.

"Maybe he could listen to me because he does listen to me, everything I tell him he does listen to me," the man, who identified himself as Armando Ramos, said on the 911 call. "Maybe he could stand down or do something to turn himself in," Ramos said, his voice cracking.

He said his nephew, who had been with him at his house the night before, stayed with him in his bedroom all night, and told him that he was upset because his grandmother was "bugging" him.

"Oh my God, please, please, don't do nothing stupid," the man says on the call. "I think he's shooting kids."

But the offer arrived too late, coming just around the time that the shooting had ended and law enforcement officers killed Salvador Ramos.

Multiple federal and state investigations into the slow law enforcement response laid bare cascading problems in training, communication, leadership and technology, and questioned whether officers prioritized their own lives over those of children and teachers in the South Texas city of about 15,000 people 80 miles (130 kilometers) west of San Antonio. Families of the victims have long sought accountability for the slow police response.

Brett Cross' 10-year-old nephew, Uziyah Garcia, was among those killed. Cross, who was raising the boy as a son, was angered relatives weren't told the records were being released and that it took so long for them to be made public.

"If we thought we could get anything we wanted, we'd ask for a time machine to go back in time and save our children but we can't, so all we are asking for is for justice, accountability and transparency, and they refuse to give this to us," he said. "This small, simple ask that I feel that we are due."

Two of the responding officers now face criminal charges: Former Uvalde school Police Chief Pete Arredondo and former school officer Adrian Gonzales have pleaded not guilty to multiple charges of child abandonment and endangerment. A Texas state trooper in Uvalde who had been suspended was reinstated to his job earlier this month.

In an interview this week with CNN, Arredondo said he thinks he's been "scapegoated" as the one to blame for the botched law enforcement response.

Some of the families have called for more officers to be charged and filed federal and state lawsuits against law enforcement, social media, online gaming companies, and the gun manufacturer that made the rifle the gunman used.

Just before officers finally breached the classroom, one officer can be heard on a body camera expressing concern about friendly fire.

"I'm kind of worried about blue on blue," an officer said. "There are so many rifles in here."

The classroom breach was followed by about five to six seconds of gunfire. Officers rushed forward as someone shouted, "Watch the kids! Watch the kids! Watch the kids!"

Less than a minute into the chaos, someone shouted, ""Where's the suspect?" Someone else immediately answered, "He's dead!"

The police response included nearly 150 U.S. Border Patrol agents and 91 state police officials, as well as school and city police. While dozens of officers stood in the hallway trying to figure out what to do, students inside the classroom called 911 on cellphones, begging for help, and desperate parents who had gathered outside the building pleaded with officers to go in. A tactical team eventually entered the classroom and killed the shooter.

Previously released video from school cameras showed police officers, some armed with rifles and bulletproof shields, waiting in the hallway.

A report commissioned by the city, however, defended the actions of local police, saying officers showed "immeasurable strength" and "level-headed thinking" as they faced fire from the shooter and refrained from firing into a darkened classroom.