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6 Lives Stolen on New York City’s 2 Deadliest Days 6 Lives Stolen on New York City’s 2 Deadliest Days
(2 days later)
Among the first people to die during those two cruel days was a nurse in the Bronx, who collapsed after a shower at home. Later that morning, a restaurant worker once known for his spectacular drag performances died alone at Elmhurst Hospital Center in Queens. That night, the virus took a father on Staten Island who had traded a banker’s salary for the luxury of time.Among the first people to die during those two cruel days was a nurse in the Bronx, who collapsed after a shower at home. Later that morning, a restaurant worker once known for his spectacular drag performances died alone at Elmhurst Hospital Center in Queens. That night, the virus took a father on Staten Island who had traded a banker’s salary for the luxury of time.
As the next day broke, New York City lost another father, a grocer in Queens who wanted, above all, for his children to go to college. Then came the death of a grandmother of six who had fled to Brooklyn during the first Persian Gulf war. Just before sundown, a Baptist church deacon known for dispensing straightforward advice succumbed in Brooklyn.As the next day broke, New York City lost another father, a grocer in Queens who wanted, above all, for his children to go to college. Then came the death of a grandmother of six who had fled to Brooklyn during the first Persian Gulf war. Just before sundown, a Baptist church deacon known for dispensing straightforward advice succumbed in Brooklyn.
They all died during one of the city’s bleakest periods: April 6 and 7, the two deadliest days since the coronavirus outbreak began.They all died during one of the city’s bleakest periods: April 6 and 7, the two deadliest days since the coronavirus outbreak began.
Such a bitter milestone came at an incongruous moment. The days were warm, windy and bright, ushering in spring’s first full moon. And yet ambulance sirens tore through the streets as about 1,550 confirmed or probable deaths were recorded in those two days alone.Such a bitter milestone came at an incongruous moment. The days were warm, windy and bright, ushering in spring’s first full moon. And yet ambulance sirens tore through the streets as about 1,550 confirmed or probable deaths were recorded in those two days alone.
The New York Times spoke to the families and friends of six of those who died.The New York Times spoke to the families and friends of six of those who died.
In life, their paths had no reason to cross. They belonged to their own circles, their own tribes.In life, their paths had no reason to cross. They belonged to their own circles, their own tribes.
But they were bound by one thing. They had all come to the city from somewhere else, to remake themselves into the people they wanted to be.But they were bound by one thing. They had all come to the city from somewhere else, to remake themselves into the people they wanted to be.
Every spring, Yaw A. Asante liked going home to Ghana with a barrel full of gifts. He would begin shopping weeks before, loading the barrel at his Bronx home with cereal and cookies, shoes and clothes.Every spring, Yaw A. Asante liked going home to Ghana with a barrel full of gifts. He would begin shopping weeks before, loading the barrel at his Bronx home with cereal and cookies, shoes and clothes.
This year, he was not sure when the pandemic would allow him to travel, but he still shopped. After all, you could not go home empty-handed, not if you had left behind a nursing career in Ghana, as he had, and worked at KFC while studying for the nursing exam in New York, and then, finally, landed a job in the medical surgery unit at Lincoln Medical Center in the Bronx.This year, he was not sure when the pandemic would allow him to travel, but he still shopped. After all, you could not go home empty-handed, not if you had left behind a nursing career in Ghana, as he had, and worked at KFC while studying for the nursing exam in New York, and then, finally, landed a job in the medical surgery unit at Lincoln Medical Center in the Bronx.
Mr. Asante learned on March 24, his 60th birthday, that he had tested positive for the virus. At least one patient in his unit was infected, he had told his family, and nurses on his floor had to reuse protective masks that were meant to be worn and then disposed.Mr. Asante learned on March 24, his 60th birthday, that he had tested positive for the virus. At least one patient in his unit was infected, he had told his family, and nurses on his floor had to reuse protective masks that were meant to be worn and then disposed.
But after a week’s rest at home, he seemed to be on the mend. By April 5, his appetite was back. He asked his wife, Rosina Oppong, to fix him rice and fish prepared in the Ghanaian style, with onions and peppers.But after a week’s rest at home, he seemed to be on the mend. By April 5, his appetite was back. He asked his wife, Rosina Oppong, to fix him rice and fish prepared in the Ghanaian style, with onions and peppers.
“He came back,” Ms. Oppong said. “He was calling people and saying, ‘Thank God, I’m fine.’”“He came back,” Ms. Oppong said. “He was calling people and saying, ‘Thank God, I’m fine.’”
Late that evening, he stepped out of the shower and collapsed to the floor, struggling to breathe. With 911 calls surging, it took an ambulance close to a half-hour to come and take him to Montefiore Medical Center’s Wakefield campus, his family recalled.Late that evening, he stepped out of the shower and collapsed to the floor, struggling to breathe. With 911 calls surging, it took an ambulance close to a half-hour to come and take him to Montefiore Medical Center’s Wakefield campus, his family recalled.
It was just after midnight on April 6 when they called the hospital to check on his condition. An emergency room doctor said he had died.It was just after midnight on April 6 when they called the hospital to check on his condition. An emergency room doctor said he had died.
There was a time, in the mid-1990s, when Alberto Sevilla, an immigrant from Puebla, Mexico, slipped into the identity of a woman he had created and called Zulma Zanelly.There was a time, in the mid-1990s, when Alberto Sevilla, an immigrant from Puebla, Mexico, slipped into the identity of a woman he had created and called Zulma Zanelly.
Where Mr. Sevilla was a bit reserved, his alter-ego, Ms. Zanelly, was fearless. While he had come to New York and found work in a grocery store, she could lip-sync the songs of Mexican pop stars like Paulina Rubio and Thalia.Where Mr. Sevilla was a bit reserved, his alter-ego, Ms. Zanelly, was fearless. While he had come to New York and found work in a grocery store, she could lip-sync the songs of Mexican pop stars like Paulina Rubio and Thalia.
For over a decade, he performed as Ms. Zanelly in the gay Latino nightclubs of Queens. The wigs were luscious, the clothes spectacular. “His personification from man to woman was tremendous,” his friend Gustavo Sanchez recalled. “One would look at him and say ‘Wow, what a woman.’”For over a decade, he performed as Ms. Zanelly in the gay Latino nightclubs of Queens. The wigs were luscious, the clothes spectacular. “His personification from man to woman was tremendous,” his friend Gustavo Sanchez recalled. “One would look at him and say ‘Wow, what a woman.’”
“He went from working at a supermarket to being the diva of the night,” said Jose Colon, his roommate in Elmhurst for 10 years. “It became his life.”“He went from working at a supermarket to being the diva of the night,” said Jose Colon, his roommate in Elmhurst for 10 years. “It became his life.”
But putting on a show became exhausting. And Mr. Sevilla slowly grew more comfortable in his own skin. He got a job at a Manhattan restaurant. He stopped performing. Zulma Zanelly, he would sometimes say, had been put away in “a trunk of memories.”But putting on a show became exhausting. And Mr. Sevilla slowly grew more comfortable in his own skin. He got a job at a Manhattan restaurant. He stopped performing. Zulma Zanelly, he would sometimes say, had been put away in “a trunk of memories.”
Not long ago, he told a friend he would bring her out for his next birthday.Not long ago, he told a friend he would bring her out for his next birthday.
Mr. Sevilla, 51, was unable to keep that promise. By April 1, he was in the emergency room of Elmhurst Hospital Center, flush with fever. It took a full day for a bed to open up.Mr. Sevilla, 51, was unable to keep that promise. By April 1, he was in the emergency room of Elmhurst Hospital Center, flush with fever. It took a full day for a bed to open up.
He texted Mr. Colon around midday on Sunday, April 5. Mr. Sevilla badgered his friend to get tested for the virus. “I love you so much and I hope you’re okay,” Mr. Sevilla wrote.He texted Mr. Colon around midday on Sunday, April 5. Mr. Sevilla badgered his friend to get tested for the virus. “I love you so much and I hope you’re okay,” Mr. Sevilla wrote.
The next morning, he was gone.The next morning, he was gone.
Growing up in Alberta, Va., population 300, Levester Thompson Jr., had aspired to be a banker in Manhattan. Tall skyscrapers. Big money.Growing up in Alberta, Va., population 300, Levester Thompson Jr., had aspired to be a banker in Manhattan. Tall skyscrapers. Big money.
Mr. Thompson, 46, earned a degree in finance from New York University and worked at a series of bare-knuckled banking jobs. He survived the 2008 financial crisis, at times commuting two and half hours from his home on Staten Island, and supporting his wife as she earned her doctorate in psychology.Mr. Thompson, 46, earned a degree in finance from New York University and worked at a series of bare-knuckled banking jobs. He survived the 2008 financial crisis, at times commuting two and half hours from his home on Staten Island, and supporting his wife as she earned her doctorate in psychology.
Then, he decided it was time for a change.Then, he decided it was time for a change.
“As you get older, you realize there’s more to life,” his wife, Dr. Simone Andrews, a psychologist, said.“As you get older, you realize there’s more to life,” his wife, Dr. Simone Andrews, a psychologist, said.
He returned to his passion — sports — and became the equipment manager for N.Y.U.’s athletics department. Suddenly, he had what many New Yorkers crave: time.He returned to his passion — sports — and became the equipment manager for N.Y.U.’s athletics department. Suddenly, he had what many New Yorkers crave: time.
He could accompany his daughter, Jade, to fencing tournaments. He could pick up his son, Chase, from school and help his football team. He could work out every day.He could accompany his daughter, Jade, to fencing tournaments. He could pick up his son, Chase, from school and help his football team. He could work out every day.
And so even when he got sick in the middle of March, his family was betting on him to recover.And so even when he got sick in the middle of March, his family was betting on him to recover.
“Daddy has a way of getting through things,” Jade reassured her mother, who agreed. Her husband was a strong and healthy man.“Daddy has a way of getting through things,” Jade reassured her mother, who agreed. Her husband was a strong and healthy man.
But on March 24, six days after he was hospitalized, he had to be intubated. Almost two weeks later, on the night of April 6, Dr. Andrews played a Smashing Pumpkins song her husband liked on the phone, hoping he could hear.But on March 24, six days after he was hospitalized, he had to be intubated. Almost two weeks later, on the night of April 6, Dr. Andrews played a Smashing Pumpkins song her husband liked on the phone, hoping he could hear.
Just before 11:30 p.m., he died.Just before 11:30 p.m., he died.
Around the same time Mr. Thompson’s family was counting on him to conquer the virus, in the Ditmas Park section of Brooklyn, Mehmooda Rehman was doing what she had always done: supporting her son, Kashif Hussain, who was organizing food donations for emergency workers.Around the same time Mr. Thompson’s family was counting on him to conquer the virus, in the Ditmas Park section of Brooklyn, Mehmooda Rehman was doing what she had always done: supporting her son, Kashif Hussain, who was organizing food donations for emergency workers.
Ms. Rehman was once a badminton coach in her native Lahore, Pakistan, and then, a stay-at-home mother as her family made new homes around the world, first in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, and then in Brooklyn.Ms. Rehman was once a badminton coach in her native Lahore, Pakistan, and then, a stay-at-home mother as her family made new homes around the world, first in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, and then in Brooklyn.
Mr. Hussain, the eldest of three children, was 14 when they moved to New York. He and his father worked whatever jobs they could find: restaurant, bodega, pharmacy. They handed over the money they made to Ms. Rehman.Mr. Hussain, the eldest of three children, was 14 when they moved to New York. He and his father worked whatever jobs they could find: restaurant, bodega, pharmacy. They handed over the money they made to Ms. Rehman.
Quietly, she helped the neediest people in their Pakistani immigrant community, giving them food or cash on the condition that they keep it under wraps, Mr. Hussain learned much later.Quietly, she helped the neediest people in their Pakistani immigrant community, giving them food or cash on the condition that they keep it under wraps, Mr. Hussain learned much later.
By late March, Ms. Rehman was sick at home. By April 2, she was in an ambulance headed to SUNY Downstate Medical Center in Brooklyn. She tested positive for the virus and was soon on a ventilator. She was 71 and diabetic, putting her among those at highest risk.By late March, Ms. Rehman was sick at home. By April 2, she was in an ambulance headed to SUNY Downstate Medical Center in Brooklyn. She tested positive for the virus and was soon on a ventilator. She was 71 and diabetic, putting her among those at highest risk.
Updated August 4, 2020 Updated August 6, 2020
Mr. Hussain, a deputy city public advocate, said he called his mother on video phone.Mr. Hussain, a deputy city public advocate, said he called his mother on video phone.
“I saw fear in her eyes,” he said. “You want to touch your mom’s face, hold her hands. You can’t do that. That’s the hardest part.”“I saw fear in her eyes,” he said. “You want to touch your mom’s face, hold her hands. You can’t do that. That’s the hardest part.”
On Tuesday morning, April 7, she died.On Tuesday morning, April 7, she died.
Roberto Tejada, 45, did not die alone.Roberto Tejada, 45, did not die alone.
He died at home before he could get to the hospital, even before he could be tested. His is among the probable virus-related deaths that the city has been tracking.He died at home before he could get to the hospital, even before he could be tested. His is among the probable virus-related deaths that the city has been tracking.
Mr. Tejada dropped out of school in the Dominican Republic, played baseball for a while in Puerto Rico and then came to New York. He got a job at a grocery store in Harlem and stayed in the business all his life. It suited him, his wife, Marleni Lora, said. He talked about saving up to buy his own store, and he complained nonstop when his employer closed down because of the pandemic, leaving him with nothing to do at home in College Point, Queens, except walk the dog.Mr. Tejada dropped out of school in the Dominican Republic, played baseball for a while in Puerto Rico and then came to New York. He got a job at a grocery store in Harlem and stayed in the business all his life. It suited him, his wife, Marleni Lora, said. He talked about saving up to buy his own store, and he complained nonstop when his employer closed down because of the pandemic, leaving him with nothing to do at home in College Point, Queens, except walk the dog.
Ms. Lora was visiting family in the Dominican Republic when her husband became sick in late March.Ms. Lora was visiting family in the Dominican Republic when her husband became sick in late March.
The illness crested and waned. One day, he would cough and vomit. The next, he would feel better. His conditioned worsened so much on April 5, that his son, Christopher, home from Buffalo State College, called 911.The illness crested and waned. One day, he would cough and vomit. The next, he would feel better. His conditioned worsened so much on April 5, that his son, Christopher, home from Buffalo State College, called 911.
The paramedics told the elder Mr. Tejada the emergency rooms were swamped. So long as he could breathe normally, as he could that day, he had a better shot at recovering at home, Christopher heard them say.The paramedics told the elder Mr. Tejada the emergency rooms were swamped. So long as he could breathe normally, as he could that day, he had a better shot at recovering at home, Christopher heard them say.
“They told him it’s his choice,” Christopher recalled. “He decided to stay.” Mr. Tejada also had two daughters.“They told him it’s his choice,” Christopher recalled. “He decided to stay.” Mr. Tejada also had two daughters.
On Tuesday morning, while Ms. Lora was on a flight back to New York, Christopher found his father on the bathroom floor. By the time the paramedics came, it was too late.On Tuesday morning, while Ms. Lora was on a flight back to New York, Christopher found his father on the bathroom floor. By the time the paramedics came, it was too late.
Ms. Lora said her priority now was to find a new place to live — her son is terrified of going back home — and then to make sure he finished college. Neither she nor her husband graduated from high school.Ms. Lora said her priority now was to find a new place to live — her son is terrified of going back home — and then to make sure he finished college. Neither she nor her husband graduated from high school.
“Your father, all the time his dream is that you graduate from college,” she told her son. “You get that diploma.”“Your father, all the time his dream is that you graduate from college,” she told her son. “You get that diploma.”
Ruth Mazyck Corbett, 76, was the person you went to when you were hurting. That is how her two daughters described her, not just in their own lives but in the life of Emmanuel Baptist Church, in the Clinton Hill section of Brooklyn, where she had worshiped for 40 years.Ruth Mazyck Corbett, 76, was the person you went to when you were hurting. That is how her two daughters described her, not just in their own lives but in the life of Emmanuel Baptist Church, in the Clinton Hill section of Brooklyn, where she had worshiped for 40 years.
“She would quietly come around you, put her hand around your waist and whichever way she was walking, you went,” said her older daughter, Charlene Thomas.“She would quietly come around you, put her hand around your waist and whichever way she was walking, you went,” said her older daughter, Charlene Thomas.
The last time she did this was when a mentally ill man walked up the aisle at her church, interrupting the service. She went to him, took him to a quiet corner and calmed him down.The last time she did this was when a mentally ill man walked up the aisle at her church, interrupting the service. She went to him, took him to a quiet corner and calmed him down.
“It was her gift,” said a friend, Patricia Huggins. “She would be the one to say, ‘Come with me, baby.’”“It was her gift,” said a friend, Patricia Huggins. “She would be the one to say, ‘Come with me, baby.’”
As a teenager, Ms. Corbett had followed her siblings to New York from a sparsely populated, unincorporated patch of coastal South Carolina known simply as Cross. For most of her working life, she was an administrative assistant. At 60, she fulfilled a lifelong goal by earning a college degree, in ministerial counseling.As a teenager, Ms. Corbett had followed her siblings to New York from a sparsely populated, unincorporated patch of coastal South Carolina known simply as Cross. For most of her working life, she was an administrative assistant. At 60, she fulfilled a lifelong goal by earning a college degree, in ministerial counseling.
Ms. Corbett, known in her church as Deacon Corbett, or to some as Mama Corbett, became sick at home in late March. By April 1, she was in the hospital. She had diabetes, and her insulin levels soon went haywire. Her daughters spoke to her on the phone.Ms. Corbett, known in her church as Deacon Corbett, or to some as Mama Corbett, became sick at home in late March. By April 1, she was in the hospital. She had diabetes, and her insulin levels soon went haywire. Her daughters spoke to her on the phone.
“She was trying to talk, but she couldn’t,” said her younger daughter, Natasha Corbett.“She was trying to talk, but she couldn’t,” said her younger daughter, Natasha Corbett.
On April 7, at 6:22 p.m., when a doctor came to check on her, she no longer had a pulse.On April 7, at 6:22 p.m., when a doctor came to check on her, she no longer had a pulse.
On Facebook, Ms. Huggins imagined the message that Ms. Corbett would convey to those who mourned her loss: “Shucks,” Ms. Huggins could hear her say. “Don’t cry for me. I know where I’m going.”On Facebook, Ms. Huggins imagined the message that Ms. Corbett would convey to those who mourned her loss: “Shucks,” Ms. Huggins could hear her say. “Don’t cry for me. I know where I’m going.”