Her name was Erin. And that was all they knew.
Since the night of Thursday, Feb. 20, when fire consumed The Station
nightclub, a question haunted twin sisters Lisa Ann and Cara Ann Del
Sesto: what had happened to Erin?
The woman was stuck so tightly in the pile at the front door of the
burning nightclub that the twins could not budge her as they tried to
pull her free. In the commotion, they only learned her first name.
"Don't worry," the sisters told Erin. "We'll get you out. We're not
going to let go."
But then the cyanide-laced smoke that belched from the club hit the
twins in the face, driving them back, forcing them to let go.
This woman they had never really met lingered amid the memories that
haunt survivors of the worst fire in Rhode Island history.
What happened to Erin? Did she get out? Was she all right?
THAT THURSDAY had already been melancholy for the Del Sesto sisters, 27
and both from Johnston. Their aunt had just died and Thursday evening
was her wake. But Cara's boyfriend had gotten her tickets to the Great
White concert as a Valentine's Day present. Lisa did not feel like
staying home either.
After a quick trip to a hamburger joint, the trio arrived at The Station
a little after 9. They split up and wandered around the club, chatting
with friends. Almost by coincidence, they met up near the rear of the
concert hall, not far from the hallway leading to the front door, just
as Great White was taking the stage.
They saw the flames, and, like many in the club, did not think the fire
was serious, but decided to leave just to be safe. They figured they
could always get back in if nothing was wrong. They put their drinks
down and calmly walked toward the front door, a few feet ahead of the
Channel 12 cameraman who captured the fire on video. After exiting the
club, they walked toward the street.
THAT THURSDAY, Erin Marie Pucino, 25, a single mother with a 6-year-old
boy who likes monster trucks, had been working for Michael A. and
Jeffrey A. Derderian, co-owners of The Station nightclub. She was behind
the register at their Shell gas station in Erin's hometown of North
Kingstown. She had gotten free tickets as part of a promotion at the gas
station. Two of her friends were already at the club when she called
around 10:30 to say she was getting off work and would meet them near
the front door.
It took Erin about 15 minutes to get to The Station. About 15 minutes
later, one of her friends remembers the two balls of flame merging above
the stage and moving across the ceiling of the club. That is the moment
they realized the building was on fire. Erin told one friend to grab the
loops on the shoulders of her leather jacket, and the women held onto
each other as they headed for the door. They were about 10 people behind
the Channel 12 cameraman.
The women stayed calm. They figured they would just walk out the front
door. Erin even carried her drink with her. But that calm evaporated as
the women passed through the short hallway leading to the door. Thick
black smoke descended on them. The lights went dark. The fire alarm
blared. The crowd suddenly surged forward and toppled like dominos.
The women lost their grip on each other as they fell, landing half
inside the building, half out. One wound up on one side of the pile, one
on the other and Erin in the middle. None of them could free themselves.
AT THE EDGE of the parking lot, Cara's boyfriend turned to the twins.
"I'm going back," he said.
"The hell you're not," said Cara.
Nevertheless, all three made their way toward the tangle of bodies at
the front door of the club.
At one side of the entrance, a man pulled one of Erin's friends from the
pile.
At the other side, a police officer dragged Erin's other friend out and
down the front steps to safety.
In the middle, Lisa and Cara Del Sesto reached for Erin. They stood in
the parking lot, a few feet below the landing outside the nightclub's
front door. They had to lean forward and under the railing on the
landing, giving them little leverage.
Lisa thinks she asked Erin her name. And the twins reassured Erin,
telling her that they would get her out, that they would not leave her.
But the smoke grew thicker, and the sisters had to forsake Erin in the
doorway. In the chaos that followed, they never found out what happened
to her.
"I thought about her every day," said Lisa.
AFTER THE JOURNAL published a list on Sept. 21 of 412 people who had
been in the fire, the Del Sesto twins came forward to say they had been
missed. The Del Sestos were among 15 such people added to The Journal's
list in the week after Sept. 21, bringing the total to 427. Since then,
The Journal has added three more names to its list, for a total of 430.
When the Del Sestos told their story of trying vainly to free a woman
named Erin, a reporter checked the newspaper's list and found two Erins.
One of the Erins had escaped through a window. But the other had been
stuck in the front door, where she said two women tried to pull her free.
Her name was Erin Marie Pucino.
Monday night, seven months after the fire, Cara and Lisa met Erin along
with one of Erin's friends, Laurie A. Hussey.
"I'm so sorry we didn't get you out," Lisa told Erin.
"It's not you guys's fault," said Erin.
"I am so glad you're OK and you got out," said Lisa.
HOW DID ERIN get out?
After the smoke forced the twins to give up, a man with a shaved head
and tattoos on his arms raced up the front steps and grabbed Erin's
arms. He pulled, but Erin's legs were pinned.
She tried wiggling them. "Please keep pulling," she begged the man. "I
think I'm moving."
Erin suddenly popped free -- shoeless -- and rolled down the stairs into
the parking lot, hurting her back. A man shouted at her to hurry up and
get out of the way, but her legs were numb and she couldn't stand. She
crawled to a parked car and pulled herself up.
Erin was lucky to be buried in the middle of the pile. "There were so
many people on top of me," she told Lisa and Cara. "The part of me that
was still inside the building was under so many people that nothing fell
on me."
A number of survivors, including Erin's friend Laurie, were burned by
molten material that dripped from the ceiling onto their arms, legs and
backs.
The women compared notes on what happened that night, where they were
when the fire broke out, how they escaped the club.
Erin described being trapped in the pile, as smoke roiled around her.
"The whole thing that kept going through my head was, 'Oh, my God, I'm
going to die. My son's not going to have a parent. I'm going to die
here.' "
"Did you lose anyone?" one of the women asked.
Erin said she had acquaintances who died in the fire, but no one close.
"Our friend Kevin just got there," said Cara, recalling his last words
to them: "I'm going to the bathroom. I'll be right back."
As news of the fire spread in the early hours of Feb. 21, all of the
women got an avalanche of phone calls -- some from friends they had not
spoken with in months. "At one point, I was talking on two phones," said
Erin.
The women also talked about coping.
"I can't do anything anymore," said Erin. "I can't go to the movies. I
can't go on the elevator." When she does venture out, "I stand by the
exit door the whole time."
Cara and Lisa suggested counseling, but Erin said she prefers talking to
her friends who are also survivors. They know what she went through,
what she is feeling, said Erin.
With reports by staff writer Mike Stanton.
