They were united in life by a love of movement — of sashays and sways and spins on the dance floor — and again in death by the devastating reality that they took their final breaths within the place they’d long considered a sanctuary.
Among the many 11 victims killed in the weekend massacre on the Star Ballroom Dance Studio in Monterey Park — including one one who later died within the hospital — were a beloved aunt with a flair for fashion, a father of two who loved to sing and a manager whose effervescent energy filled the studio.
They were all of their 50s, 60s and 70s, in accordance with the Los Angeles County coroner.
4 were identified Monday by officials: My Nhan, 65; Lilan Li, 63; Xiujuan Yu, 57; and Valentino Alvero, 68. Family and friends identified two others as Ming Wei Ma, whose age was not immediately available, and Nancy Liu, 63.
Nine others were injured Saturday when a gunman opened fire contained in the Monterey Park studio, where people had gathered for a dance party to count down the hours leading to the Lunar Recent Yr.
The gunman, identified by police as Huu Can Tran, 72, then fled to a second dance hall in Alhambra, where a person working the front desk wrestled a semiautomatic pistol away from him.
The subsequent day, Tran fatally shot himself as police approached his van in a Torrance parking zone, in accordance with officials.
In keeping with law enforcement sources, the investigation is concentrated on Tran’s interactions on the two dance studios and whether he was motivated to kill by jealousy over a relationship.
The shooting, in the guts of the region’s Chinese community, shocked Monterey Park’s sense of self and devastated the nation. On Monday, a small memorial to the victims sprung up outside City Hall.
People left heart-shaped balloons, a pot of lavender, oranges and a bouquet of white roses with a note reading “With deepest sympathy.” On the perimeters of the note card, someone scrawled a message in pen: “STRICTER GUN LAWS. WHY? LOVE.”
My Nhan, 65, was considered one of the Monterey Park shooting victims.
(Tiffany Liou)
For Fonda Quan, the devastation was deeply personal.
Her family got a call this weekend informing them that Nhan — her aunt, known to family members as Mymy — had been shot within the massacre. Before long, the coroner called to verify that Nhan was among the many victims.
“It’s gut-wrenching,” said Quan, 32, who grew up sharing a house together with her aunt, in addition to her parents and grandmother. “It’s been difficult to process.”
For years, she said, her aunt spent weekends taking classes on the Star studio. On Saturday, Nhan had decided to dart out early to go home and arrange a family shrine to pay homage to ancestors for Lunar Recent Yr.
But just as Nhan and her dance partner were backing their automotive out of the studio parking zone, the gunman approached from the motive force’s side, in accordance with an account relayed to Nhan’s family by the partner.
The shooter pointed the gun at them and fired, striking Nhan several times, before sprinting into the ballroom. Her partner, who was seated beside her within the automotive, was not hit, Quan said, and didn’t recognize the gunman.
Nhan, who grew up in Ho Chi Minh City and emigrated to Rosemead together with her family within the Eighties, had an infectious cheerfulness and an eagerness to rejoice the wins of those in her wide circle of friends. She loved ballroom dancing, Quan said, and all things fashion.
Together with a press release the family posted on Twitter was an image of Nhan smiling proudly in a teal dress and a pair of wispy earrings, her hair curled and styled in a half ponytail.
“Unfairly, Saturday was her last dance,” the statement read. “We’re starting the Lunar Recent Yr broken.”
One in every of Nhan’s longtime instructors, Maksym Kapitanchuk, said her presence breathed life into each the Star Ballroom Dance Studio and Lai Lai Ballroom and Studio in Alhambra, where the shooter went after gunning down the Monterey Park victims.
Kapitanchuk met Nhan at Lai Lai in 2010, soon after he moved to the U.S. from Ukraine. Nhan was his very first student, he said, and her passion was undeniable.
“Dance was her life,” he said, adding that she attended classes every night of the week. “She was just the sunshine of the category and the sunshine of the studio.”
His client base started off small, but Nhan quickly tapped into her vast network of friends. Before long, she was bringing five or 10 — sometimes even 20 — latest people to his classes. And she or he was all the time there herself.
“I actually don’t know the way I’m going to handle it at once,” he said, “teaching without her.”
Elena Krifuks, an instructor at Lai Lai, said that in social dances just like the event on Saturday, Nhan all the time sat at the identical table, simply to the left of the stereo system. Tucked there, she sipped tea during breaks before jumping back onto the ground to samba or tango.
Krifuks said she relied on Nhan to get the word out about showcases and other events.
“She had everyone’s phone numbers,” Krifuks said, “and he or she was friends with everyone.”
Each instructors were featured in a 2019 Oscar-nominated documentary short, “Walk Run Cha-Cha,” which highlighted the Lai Lai studio. Amongst the big forged of scholars were many individuals who had initially been brought there by Nhan.
One other victim, Alvero, shared that love of ballroom dance and for years had dropped in at events at Star, in accordance with a relative who declined to be identified.
The relative, who learned of the shooting from TV Sunday morning, said Alvero was married and had two children of their 30s.
“He was a cheerful guy,” the relative said. “He wants to bounce or sing.”
At Star, Ma was a relentless presence — a talented social connector, friends said, who worked and danced on the studio.
Within the moments before the gunman opened fire Saturday, Ma, who helped manage the studio, had been acting as DJ, playing a song called “Light Rain in March,” in accordance with an eyewitness who asked to be identified only by her first name, Grace. A couple of dozen people were on the dance floor when the barrage began, she said.
“Heartbreaking,” said Dariusz Michalski, an instructor on the studio. “We are only speechless and can’t find the words to explain how we feel at once.”
One other instructor, David DuVal, said that Ma — known affectionately as Mr. Ma — had emigrated along with his wife from China, where he had been a part of a widely known dance group.
A 3rd instructor, Lauren Woods, posted about Ma on Facebook, saying she had run into him on the studio within the hours before the shooting. As she arrived that day to show a non-public lesson, she spotted Ma, who eagerly offered to assist her seek for a parking spot along streets full of people attending the Lunar Recent Yr festival. Later, she saw Ma chatting with dancers, offering them encouragement.
“I’m personally thankful to have that last beautiful interaction,” she wrote. “He was the guts of Star Ballroom.”
Ma didn’t speak much English, Woods said, but he never struggled to speak his affection to her, often greeting her with excitement and a kiss on the cheek.
“My teacher! My teacher!” he would say, swooping her right into a hug. “Love you! Love you!”
Lily Ko, who has taken a category at Star every Tuesday for 2 years, recalled sneaking glimpses of Ma teaching one other class — he was really good, she remembers considering.
Each time he spotted her group dancing, Ko said, he made a degree to encourage them.
“Very great,” he told them. “Very excellent.”
Her Tuesday classes ended around 10 p.m., and Ma often waited for her so she wouldn’t should walk to the automotive alone.
“He made sure I used to be secure,” she recalled.
On Twitter, Juno Blees said her mother — identified by the Recent York Times as Liu — died within the shooting.
“My mom is gone. She never made it out of the dance studio,” Blees wrote. “My family is devastated.”
For the communities at each dance halls, Saturday’s shooting decimated a way of safety.
Alyce Harley said her mother, Marlene Xu, had been going to the studio for seven years but wasn’t there Saturday. It had turn into a sanctuary for Xu, an immigrant from China who found a renewed sense of belonging on the studio.
It was a spot for the 67-year-old to rejoice holidays and meet up with friends — friends whom she is now mourning.
Two of the dead were Taiwanese American, said the Taipei Economic and Cultural Office in Los Angeles. One was a Chinese citizen, Chinese consular officials said.
“She is actually, really struggling,” Harley said of her mother. “Folks like my mother and plenty of other immigrants were capable of partake in something very Western without it feeling very foreign to them.
“They might feel like they might participate in the humanities without feeling like they were ‘othered’ or feeling like they were unnoticed,” she added. “That’s what Star Ballroom was.”
Times staff writers Alexandra E. Petri, Grace Toohey, Christian Martinez, Julia Wick, Jeong Park and Hayley Smith contributed to this report.
