Professional Documents
Culture Documents
html
In keeping with Vietnamese tradition, they were well-behaved boys at home who
bowed their heads to their parents, according to their father, Bim Khac Nguyen. Loi,
21, Pham, 19, and Long, 17, always listened to him, he recalled sadly.
Away from home, however, some saw them as troubled young men. Immigrants from
Vietnam, they had difficulty adapting in American society and all had problems in
school. Long Nguyen, the youngest, was expelled in March with his friend, Cuong
Tran, after they were caught trying to set fire to their high school, officials said.
But no one expected their lives to erupt in the violence of 11 days ago when the
Nguyen brothers and Tran seized a Good Guys electronics store near their south
Sacramento home, taking 41 hostages.
As sheriff’s deputies stormed the store, at least two of the youths began
shooting the hostages, killing two employees and a customer and wounding 11
others, authorities said.
Pham and Long Nguyen, along with their friend Tran, 17, died in shooting it
out with deputies. Loi Nguyen, who was seriously wounded but survived, is
charged with three counts of murder and 51 other felonies.
Those who knew the young gunmen are still groping to understand why they
threw away their lives in such a desperate act. Their parents are struggling to
come to terms with the charge that their boys became killers.
“I wanted them to finish school, become successful and still keep the
Vietnamese traditions,” Nguyen said last week in Vietnamese. “Now there are
no words left to say. I never envisioned something like this would happen.”
Sacramento County Sheriff Glen Craig said the Good Guys siege was
motivated in part by the youths’ frustration with their lives in America and the
problems they faced as refugees seeking to adapt.
Craig said the youths were members of a violent, loose-knit Asian gang, the
Oriental Boys. Apparently they were trying to make some sort of statement,
not rob the store, he said.
During negotiations with sheriff’s deputies, the youths demanded such things
as tea made from 1,000-year-old ginger roots and a helicopter to fly them to
Thailand so they could fight the “Viet Cong.”
“It was dissatisfaction with the life that they had here in this country, a
frustration,” the sheriff said after the shooting. “They were very, very unhappy
people.”
Others who know the youths are not so sure about the sheriff’s explanation.
Teachers and relatives, for example, say they knew of no gang activity by the
Nguyens. However, leaders of the Vietnamese community and academic
experts say the problem of acculturation can be especially acute for children
whose parents--like the Nguyens--have not learned English or found jobs
since arriving in this country.
The Nguyen family left Vietnam 12 years ago, believing their lives could not
get any worse. “I knew my family and I would rather die at sea than to be
under Communist rule,” said Bim Nguyen, 54.
The former South Vietnamese soldier, his wife and six children escaped with
51 other people cramped together in a small fishing boat. They spent seven
months at sea and at anchor off the coast of Malaysia, where they repeatedly
were raided by pirates. Hungry and penniless, they spent four more months in
a refugee camp in Indonesia waiting to come to the United States.
Since arriving in California in 1980, the Nguyens said, they have survived on
welfare. In Sacramento, they live in a two-bedroom unit of a run-down
apartment building half a mile from the Good Guys store. Before the shoot-
out, two young daughters slept in one room with their parents, while four
sons, Loi, Pham, Long and Phu, 15, shared the second bedroom and the living
room.
Cuong Tran also was born in Vietnam. But unlike the Nguyens, his family was
relatively affluent. His parents, Trong Van and Hoa Thi Tran, bought a house
15 months ago in a newly built, middle-class neighborhood in nearby Elk
Grove. Hoa Thi Tran helps operate a manicure shop. But little more is known
about the family because the Trans have declined to talk publicly since the
siege.
Cuong Tran and Long Nguyen were classmates at Florin High School until
they were expelled for stealing athletic equipment and trying to set fire to the
school, said principal Bill Huyett.
The pair also had been arrested on a separate criminal offense and were due in
juvenile court for a restitution hearing on the day after the shoot-out. Juvenile
authorities would not discuss the case or whether other criminal charges were
ever filed against them.
None of the four youths were successful in school, a factor that likely
contributed to their alienation, some former teachers and family friends said.
Loi Nguyen, the eldest, dropped out of Valley High in his senior year. Thanh
Nguyen, a family spokesman but no relation, said Loi was “slow” and did
poorly in school. “His mind is always elsewhere, never to what’s at hand,” he
said in Vietnamese, adding, “He didn’t have very many friends.”
Loi also had trouble finding a job. Though unemployed, he was able to afford a
car and--weeks before the shooting--bought three handguns at $300 each,
authorities said.
Pham, the only one of the gunmen still in school, was attending Daylor
William High School, a continuation school, taking three classes a day. He was
transfered from Valley High because of attendance problems, officials said,
but was expected to graduate in June.
“When Asians feel they are succeeding academically in the school, they feel all
the difficulty of the new society can be compensated for,” said Song Hahn,
himself a Korean immigrant and one of Pham Nguyen’s former teachers.
“When they fail academically, they feel their life has ended. Pham felt he had
failed.”
But even with the youths’ later troubles, some teachers remembered Pham,
Long and Cuong Tram as obedient and pleasant students.
Jay Tinsman, one of Pham’s teachers at Daylor, said the 19-year-old seemed
more comfortable at the smaller school and with a more limited class
program. “He was a quiet kid,” Tinsman said. “I considered him very bright.
He did very well in his school work. He never missed a day.”
On the morning of the shooting, he said, Pham came to school and asked to be
excused from class, saying he had a toothache and wanted to go to the dentist.
“I think it’s ironic,” Tinsman said, “that he came and asked permission to be
out of school that day, the day of the crime.”
Despite Tran’s expulsion from school, former teachers also recalled him fondly
and were shocked most of all that he was involved in the Good Guys siege.
Florin High School teacher Bob Saari said that during the previous school
year, Tran came to his classroom early every day to play chess and visit with
other students.
“He was a good-natured kid, a funny kid, a giving kid,” Saari said. “It’s hard to
put in perspective that what happened was the same kid I saw in my room.”
Long Nguyen also came with Tran to Saari’s “Breakfast Club,” but was quieter
and attracted less notice. “He was always polite to me, a pleasant kid from my
experience,” Saari recalled.
Even now, Bim and Sao Thi Nguyen, 47, have trouble believing Sheriff Craig’s
conclusion that their sons belonged to a gang. But they declined to discuss any
details of the boys’ lives or the shoot-out.
The brothers often went with them to Mass and occasionally helped out at the
Vietnamese Catholic Martyrs’ Church, where their parents worshiped. They all
enjoyed fishing along the Sacramento River, Bim Nguyen said.
On the morning of the siege, the brothers asked their parents for permission
to go fishing on their own.
“That’s what we do for fun; I always drive my sons to the river to fish,” the
father said, as he wiped tears from his eyes. “The last time I saw them, they
asked if they could go fishing.”
The family fishing rods now hang over the Nguyens’ kitchen window, a sad
reminder of April 4.
In the living room of the $400-a-month apartment stands a three-tier wooden
mantle with candles and a crucifix. On one wall are two miniature South
Vietnamese flags; on the other are pictures of the family’s ancestors.
The Nguyens vividly remember standing in line with their children waiting for
their rations. When they arrived in California, they were completely
unprepared for their new lives.
“We didn’t even know how to go about looking for housing,” recalled Bim
Nguyen. “But, right away, we knew education was important so we put all of
our children into school. . . . It was so frustrating for me because they would
come home asking me for help with school work and I wouldn’t know what to
say.”
Academics who did not know the gunmen but are expert in the assimilation of
Vietnamese immigrants said it has been most difficult for the boat people, the
wave of refugees that left Vietnam between 1978 and 1980. Usually, these
people had few possessions and spent months or years in refugee camps
before arriving in the United States.
“All who are Vietnamese are sad because of this tragedy,” said Viet Le, former
chairman of the state Forum on Refugee Affairs and himself one of the boat
people. “Something of this magnitude has never happened to our people
before. It could’ve happened to any community, any ethnic group, but
unfortunately it happened in our community and now we are in the spotlight.”
The Nguyens spend their days holed up in their apartment, their curtains
drawn, replaying the siege over and over in their minds. They leave home only
to visit Loi at the hospital, where he remains under armed guard.
“This is a very sad time for all of us,” said Sao Nguyen. “My husband and I are
sorry for everything. My family is very troubled right now. . . . I just don’t
know what to say.”
Оглядываясь назад, кажется, что три брата Нгуен вели двойную жизнь.
Те, кто знал молодых боевиков, все еще пытаются понять, почему они отдали
свои жизни в таком отчаянном поступке. Их родители изо всех сил пытаются
примириться с обвинением в том, что их мальчики стали убийцами.
Шериф округа Сакраменто Глен Крейг сказал, что осада "Хороших парней"
была частично мотивирована разочарованием молодежи в своей жизни в
Америке и проблемами, с которыми они столкнулись как беженцы,
стремящиеся адаптироваться.
“Это было недовольство жизнью, которую они вели здесь, в этой стране,
разочарование”, - сказал шериф после стрельбы. “Они были очень, очень
несчастными людьми.”
Семья Нгуен покинула Вьетнам 12 лет назад, полагая, что их жизнь не может
стать хуже. “Я знал, что моя семья и я скорее умру в море, чем окажусь под
коммунистическим правлением”, - сказал 54-летний Бим Нгуен.
Куонг Чан также родился во Вьетнаме. Но в отличие от Нгуенов, его семья была
относительно богатой. Его родители, Тронг Ван и Хоа Тхи Тран, купили дом 15
месяцев назад в недавно построенном районе среднего класса в соседней Элк-
Гроув. Хоа Тхи Тран помогает управлять маникюрным магазином. Но о семье
известно немного больше, потому что после осады Транс отказался говорить
публично.
Куонг Чан и Лонг Нгуен были одноклассниками в средней школе Флорина, пока
их не исключили за кражу спортивного инвентаря и попытку поджога школы,
сказал директор Билл Хьюетт.
Лой Нгуен, самый старший, бросил школу Вэлли на последнем курсе. Тхань
Нгуен, представитель семьи, но не родственник, сказал, что Лой был
“медлительным” и плохо учился в школе. “Его мысли всегда где-то далеко,
никогда не о том, что под рукой”, - сказал он по-вьетнамски, добавив: “У него
было не очень много друзей.”
У Лои тоже были проблемы с поиском работы. Несмотря на то, что он был
безработным, он смог позволить себе машину и-за несколько недель до
стрельбы-купил три пистолета по 300 долларов каждый, сообщили власти.
“Когда азиаты чувствуют, что они преуспевают в учебе в школе, они чувствуют,
что все трудности нового общества могут быть компенсированы”, - сказал Сон
Хан, сам корейский иммигрант и один из бывших учителей Фама Нгуена.
“Когда они терпят неудачу в учебе, они чувствуют, что их жизнь закончилась.
Фам чувствовал, что потерпел неудачу.”
Учитель средней школы Флорина Боб Саари сказал, что в течение предыдущего
учебного года Тран каждый день приходил в свой класс пораньше, чтобы
поиграть в шахматы и навестить других учеников.
Лонг Нгуен также пришел с Тран в “Клуб завтрака " Саари, но был тише и
привлек меньше внимания. “Он всегда был вежлив со мной, приятный ребенок
из моего опыта", - вспоминал Саари.
Даже сейчас Бим и 47-летний Сао Тхи Нгуен с трудом верят в вывод шерифа
Крейга о том, что их сыновья принадлежали к банде. Но они отказались
обсуждать какие-либо подробности жизни мальчиков или перестрелки.
“Мы даже не знали, как искать жилье”, - вспоминал Бим Нгуен. “Но сразу же
мы поняли, что образование важно, поэтому мы отдали всех наших детей в
школу ... Это было так неприятно для меня, потому что они приходили домой и
просили меня о помощи в школьной работе, и я не знал, что сказать.”