 |
||||||||
 |
||||||||
|
||||||||
|
Latest victim lived a quiet life in the Bronx, friends say©Washington Post
© St. Petersburg Times, NEW YORK -- In life, Kathy Nguyen was just another working-class immigrant in another big apartment building in the South Bronx. She didn't own a car or a home. She had no court records. She did what so many people in her neighborhood do -- rode the No. 6 elevated train to Manhattan, worked hard, came home late at night to a small apartment with a deadbolt lock, then did it again the next day. In death, however, the tiny Vietnamese woman who lived alone is the focus of national attention -- and rising national anxieties. She's the first person to die of anthrax with no obvious connection to tainted letters authorities had believed to be the source of the outbreak. Nguyen, 61, had worked for years in the basement stock room of Manhattan Eye, Ear and Throat Hospital on the Upper East Side. She brought medicine and supplies to the emergency room and operating rooms. She didn't handle mail, but worked next to the mail room. As FBI agents descended on her neighbors seeking details of her until-now ordinary life, and men in moon suits tested her third-floor flat for anthrax, bioterror seemed to have taken another big step into America. What do you tell the FBI about a beloved neighbor? That she had shiny black hair and always wore hats? That she never complained when children made noise? That she spoke amazing English? (She had a slight accent, but to her Dominican and Puerto Rican neighbors, it was the King's English.) "She came from job to home, that's what Kathy did," said Jenny Espinal, who had known Nguyen for 25 years. "She was always saying, "Hello. How you doing? How's the family?' " Nguyen was the only Vietnamese in the building, her neighbors said. "She would share anything," said Anna Silva. "She was too friendly, you understand? She had a good, great big heart." Nguyen had known tragedy. She told neighbors she lived comfortably in Vietnam, but left in 1977 with nothing. They said she'd married and divorced, and that a son had died years ago in an automobile accident. They said her life focused almost entirely on work and home, a one-bedroom apartment she kept immaculate, paying rent of nearly $700 a month. One of her best friends was Josefa Richardson, a Dominican who speaks little English. They swapped recipes and brought each other dishes of food: chicken and plantains from Richardson, won ton soup and duck from Nguyen. "We don't have the same language but we loved each other," Richardson said as a nephew translated. Richardson last saw her friend last week, when Nguyen was fighting what she thought was a cold. "She just said to me: "I'm tired, I'm tired,' " Richardson said. "Then I leave a message for her on Saturday, tell her to come to my house. But there's nothing, just her machine." Nguyen went to Lenox Hill Hospital on Sunday, her anthrax already too advanced for doctors to stop it. As a woman alone, Nguyen was often on the minds of younger neighbors. They even had warned her about anthrax. "I told her, "You see a letter with powder, you throw it away,' " Silva said. "She couldn't believe that someone would do something like that. She'd say, "For real? You really think people would do something like that?' "I said, "Yes, Kathy. I do.' " - Information from the New York Times was used in this report.
 © 2006 • All Rights Reserved • St. Petersburg Times
490 First Avenue South • St. Petersburg, FL 33701 • 727-893-8111 
|
From the Times wire desk
From the AP |
