Karena Cartwright, of Seekonk, lights a candle on the cross memorializing her uncle, Bill Cartwright, who lost his life when The Station burned. She was among more than 200 people to visit the West Warwick site for a memorial service yesterday.

The Providence Journal / Frieda Squires

WEST WARWICK -- Mark Hyer stood far back from the crowd as the names of the dead were read aloud: 100 people who lost their lives in the Station nightclub fire six years ago this Friday.

“I hate crowds,” he said. “I hate coming here now.”

Hyer lost his youngest brother, Eric Hyer, 32, of Scituate, in the fire. But despite his dislike for the site and all of the raw feelings that it evokes, there was no way around it: He felt he had to pay tribute yesterday, one of more than 200 people who came to the muddy lot where the nightclub once stood to attend a memorial service.

Once the civil lawsuits filed by the victims are settled –– $176 million has been offered by the defendants — there are plans to build a memorial park at the site. But for now, it is filled with makeshift crosses, one for each of those who died at The Station, in the fourth-deadliest nightclub fire in U.S. history.

The family members and friends who came yesterday to pay tribute to the victims brought colorful bouquets and balloons to decorate the crosses. Some knelt in the snow to say a prayer before the invocation was read. Many wept during the roll call of the dead.

Hyer, 45, of Coventry, comes from a big family –– he was one of five brothers. Four are still alive, as are his parents. But he was alone yesterday, pacing in the mud while others clung to each other and bowed their heads in prayer.

The fire, he said, ripped his family apart. “We don’t talk to each other.” It still angers him that it took seven days for his brother’s remains to be identified. He calls the prosecution of those charged “a joke. If I killed 100 people,” he said, “I’d never get out of prison.”

He pointed to the cross dedicated to his brother –– the one with the bright yellow hardhat that hangs from the top. This is where he slept almost every night for two years after the fire, he said. He had been in Alcoholics Anonymous before the fire, but for four years after Eric died, he went back to drinking and it wasn’t pretty. He’s back in AA now. “I still take his fishing poles with me every time I go fishing,” he said.

After the ceremony, the victims and their families were invited to coffee across the street at the Cowesett Inn, but many opted out. That’s where they’d all been directed to go after the fire to await the news of the missing. It was the place where many of them learned that a son, daughter, brother or sister had died.

“Can’t go there,” said Paula A. McLaughlin as she stood in front of the cross erected in memory of her brother, Michael Hoogasian, and his wife, Sandy Hoogasian, who both died in the fire.

Her mother, Claire Hoogasian, stood by her side. The gold locket she wears around her neck is etched with a photo of Michael and Sandy. She never takes it off.

Claire Hoogasian’s husband died when he was only 51. “But he was sick,” she pointed out. “These were healthy kids enjoying an evening out.” Suddenly, they were gone.

tbreton@projo.com