The relatives of several Station fire victims give emotional statements in court as the three-day sentencing hearing starts for the ex-tour manager of rock band Great White.

12:23 AM EDT on Tuesday, May 9, 2006

BY TRACY BRETON
Journal Staff Writer

PROVIDENCE -- Paula A. McLaughlin, who lost her brother and sister-in-law in the Station nightclub fire, stood at a podium in Judge Francis J. Darigan's courtroom, her husband and mother by her side.

"Do you know what it's like," she asked the judge, her voice cracking, "to hear your mother cry like a child, repeating 'no' over and over again? Do you know what it's like to have two people you love so much die in such a horrific manner that they can only be identified by dental records?"

"Have you ever had to pick out a gravesite for a young couple that was just married 16 months earlier?

"Have you ever had to tell your 4-year-old daughter that two people she loved so much wouldn't be coming to play with her anymore?

"Have you ever had to receive a plastic bag filled with what was left of your younger brother's belongings that smelled so toxic of fire and smoke that you had to soak them in bleach just so you could hold on to them, and not receive a bag for your sister-in-law?"

The questions hung in the air, evoking no response except tears from others who were listening who had experienced a similar loss -- the relatives of the 100 people who died in the Feb. 20, 2003, West Warwick nightclub fire.

More than 50 of them packed the spectator section of a fifth-floor courtroom in the Licht Judicial Complex yesterday for the start of a three-day sentencing hearing for Daniel M. Biechele, the 29-year-old tour manager for the rock band Great White who has pleaded guilty to 100 counts of involuntary manslaughter.

Biechele has admitted setting off pyrotechnics inside the nightclub without a permit, which led to the deaths of the patrons. Sparks from the fireworks ignited highly flammable polyurethane foam that lined the walls of The Station. The overcrowded club was engulfed in flames within a few minutes and patrons were trapped inside and overcome with toxic fumes. More than 200 people were injured in addition to the 100 who died.

The nightclub owners, Michael and Jeffrey Derderian, each face 200 involuntary manslaughter charges -- under two different theories of the law -- and are scheduled to go to trial this summer.

Biechele, who now lives in Winter Springs, Fla., is the only one thus far to admit guilt. As part of a plea-agreement with the attorney general's office, he faces up to 10 years in prison. Attorney General Patrick C. Lynch is asking the court to impose the maximum 10 years allowed under the plea deal. Biechele's lawyers are asking that the just-married first-time offender be sentenced to community service. They say he didn't know the soundproofing inside The Station was flammable, that he didn't intend to harm anyone and is filled with remorse. Darigan will impose sentence tomorrow, after hearing more victim-impact statements today, beginning at 10 a.m.

In gut-wrenching presentations yesterday, McLaughlin and 20 other family members told the court the impact Biechele's criminal act has had on their lives.

Never before in a Rhode Island courtroom had there been such a huge outpouring of grief.

The proceeding, which lasted more than three hours, was more like a memorial service for 100 dead people than a criminal hearing. The judge's clerk, Marie Collins, set out a container of white tea roses next to the speakers' podium, along with a box of Kleenex, tissues, a carafe of water and plastic cups. There were over more than a dozen grief counselors on hand for support. As the family members testified, Biechele remained expressionless. But his mother, Patricia, closed her eyes, and his wife, Mandy, clutched a tissue. Even Darigan's stenographer, had to fight back tears.

Since that winter's night in 2003, life has stood still for so many of the victims' families. And for some, it has gotten worse.

They spoke of mood swings, depression, migraine headaches, the inability to sleep more than two hours a night, the inability to work.

"We have been sentenced to life without parole," Eileen DiBonaventura said as she spoke of her 18-year-old son, Albert Anthony, whom she lost in the fire.

"It has been said that time heals all wounds. I disagree," said George Leocadio, who lost his sister, Sandy Hoogasian.

McLaughlin, whose brother Michael Hoogasian was married to Leocadio's sister, told Darigan, "Today is day 1,142 of our never-ending nightmare."

She hugs her dead brother's coat each night "so I can go to sleep." She keeps her sister-in-law's bridal gown in her closet.

Leland Hoisington, who lost his daughter, Abbie, told the judge: "I'm struggling to find a reason to get up in the morning . . . When someone's snatched away suddenly, there's always unresolved issues."

Gina Russo, of Cranston, who suffered burns over 40 percent of her body in the fire and has undergone 45 surgeries as a result, is now back at work at Rhode Island Hospital. But she lost her fiancé, Alfred Crisostomi, in the blaze and told Darigan that "while I was in a coma for 11 weeks, my family had to cancel" their wedding and honeymoon plans.

Richard Moreau wept uncontrollably as he talked about how the death of his 21-year-old daughter has affected him. He described the last day of her life: She'd spent it at a funeral. He recounted what she wore to The Station the night she perished: a light blue sweater that "matched her eyes," tan slacks and black boots. He described the scene at The Station after the fire, when he and his wife went to look for Leigh Ann in the rubble of the nightclub. "It looked like 9/11," he said.

And he said he became such a wreck after his daughter's death that he had to enter a day program at a hospital to get counseling, and that because he didn't have tenure and had to take time out from work, he lost his job as a special-education teacher. He says he's had to take jobs doing "manual labor" to help pay the family's bills.

"We have aged 20 years in the last 38 months," Moreau told Darigan. "Now we're in a club that nobody wanted to be a part of," he said. "The membership fees were awfully high. The price was our daughter's life."

The fact that Biechele showed no emotion during the hearing bothered some of the victims' families. "I was mainly just looking at him -- to see his reaction and there was none," Patricia Belanger, mother of fire victim Dina A. DeMaio, said during the lunch break. DeMaio, a single mother who worked as a waitress at The Station, died in the fire on her 30th birthday.

Some who spoke were upset that Darigan would not allow them to display photographs of their loved ones, or to give their opinion on what sentence should be meted out. Some said they wanted to address Biechele, who in recent weeks had sent each family a personal letter expressing his remorse. A few stated in court that they believed Biechele had committed "murder." But the judge cut anyone off who voiced an opinion on what the sentence should be.

Outside the courtroom, some family members were still expressing outrage that the attorney general had permitted Biechele to enter into a plea bargain that would bring him no more than 10 years behind bars.

Belanger, and her daughter, Jessica Garvey, were among those who said they felt dissatisfied.

"He needs to go to jail," Belanger said outside the courthouse. "He killed 100 people" and injured 200 more. "Ten years is not enough. He really should be going away for life. Anyone else wouldn't have gotten a cushy deal like he did. People get life for killing just one person," said Belanger.

But Evelyn King, wife of fire victim Tracy King, a bouncer at The Station who died in the fire, told Darigan she appreciated that Biechele had spared the families of the fire victims a trial. "I can only hope that others will spare us the same tragedy," she said.

James Gahan III, who lost his only son in the fire, agreed. He said the families of the victims were grateful "we were spared the heartache" of a trial.

He then asked the court to show "a measure of mercy" in fashioning a sentence for the man who has admitted causing his son's death.

Standing before the court -- wearing his son's Nichols College press pass on a lanyard around his neck -- Gahan said his son "Jimmy would want" the court to show mercy.

Jimmy Gahan, 21, of Falmouth, Mass., was a DJ at his campus radio station and went to The Station the afternoon of Feb. 20, 2003, with a college buddy to interview Great White. After the interview, the band gave him and his fellow DJ, Michael Ricardi, tickets for the show. They had front-row seats. Ricardi and Gahan's press pass survived the blaze. Jimmy Gahan never made it out that night.

EXTRA: Read excerpts from each victim's statement, listen to audio from the hearing, and get live coverage of today's session, at:

http://projo.com

tbreton@projo.com / (401) 277-7362