This is the story of Kathyanna Gon Thi Nguyen, as told by her daughter, Marie, to editorial writer Rodger Jones in interviews and e-mails.
Kathyanna Nguyen was murdered in her Houston store on Sunday, May 17, 1998. Her killer is scheduled to die for his crime in Huntsville on Wednesday, Aug. 22, 2007.
"Her place of birth was Vinh Long, Vietnam. It was very small, a village. Her age, we speculated, was 57. She was basically orphaned as a child, so she was never sure of her true birth date. ...
"Growing up, my mother always reminded me of how fortunate I was to be in a land where opportunity was everywhere. She told me stories of how she grew up on the streets of Vietnam since she had 'lost' her family when her village was raided by soldiers from one of the many battles the people of Vietnam had gone through. Her mom had other babies she had to hold on to when they were running.
"At age 5 she was homeless. Even at this young age, she became someone's nanny and then, ultimately, a farm girl. Her adopted 'parents' would not allow her to go to school, so when she brought me to America, she made sure I would get all the education that this country had to offer. ...
"Because she was never allowed to go to school, she taught herself how to read and write in Vietnamese, and when she came here, she taught herself how to read and write in English. ...
"I know my mother had found her mother again when she turned 18. She had always told me that she yearned for her mother for so many years, and when she was able to, she left to find her."
"Like so many, she escaped when Saigon fell. I remember her telling me that we stood in a long line waiting to get on a boat and a nice American soldier came over and picked me up out of her arms and brought me onto the boat as she followed closely so that she would not lose me, as her mother had lost her when they escaped another war.
"We went to Guam and eventually ended up in Fort Chaffee, Ark. We were sponsored by a wonderful elderly couple, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson (I called them Grandma and Grandpa, and my mother referred them as Mama and Daddy), and a local Methodist church. Grandma and Grandpa Johnson had lost their only child, a son, to the Vietnam War. When my mother told me this story, I cried and cried for them and for the fact that I never once felt I did not 'belong' to them. They had always treated us so well. When I was a little girl, I truly thought they were my family."
"My mother and I moved to Houston when I was 5. It was an unfortunate incident that led us to Houston. One night we were grocery shopping and were mugged behind the church that we attended. It was two black men who remain faceless to me but the incident is still very clear. They ended up shooting her in the chest, but she was grateful that it had happened that way, because the original bullet was meant for me.
"I remember hearing my mother's frantic voice as they took her purse and pointed the gun at me. She begged them not to hurt me. My mother pulled me out of the way, and that is when he lifted the gun and shot her. I still remember seeing her on the ground bleeding and running to get help. Even at that young age, I was exposed to this type of violence.
"She moved to Houston because she had heard that there was more opportunity for work there. She decided to stay, because she really liked the people, and it seemed she had more job possibilities."
"She spoke broken English but it was good enough to own and run her small businesses. ... My mother owned a convenience store with a gas station, north of downtown. She worked there from 6 a.m. to 11 p.m., sometimes midnight ...
"She worked 18-hour days for more than 20 years and had never had a vacation, but she never complained. She was grateful that she had her freedom. ...
"She was well known in Houston for her ability to turn businesses around. While growing up, I would see so many people come to her for advice about how to set up their convenience stores. She would even make me work all day at her store so she could go to someone else's business and help them start up. ...
"She enjoyed the neighborhoods she worked in. She always made it a point to make friends with her neighbors, especially, the people from the neighborhood in which she died. People would come by and sit for coffee. She knew most of her customers by name. She knew their kids and what everybody liked. She was very attentive to people's needs and wants. She would even offer people food if they happened to come by while she was cooking in the back.
"She was like a big kid, always laughing and playing practical jokes. She loved to laugh and make others happy."
"She loved America. When she became an American citizen, it was one of the happiest days of her life. ...
She told me she wanted to do it. We got the little book, and she and I would go through the book page by page. If she didn't understand something, I would translate it into Vietnamese, and would teach her to say the words. Like, 'George Washington.' She found a lot of joy in it. ...
"When she finally got her paperwork, she was very excited. We went to an auditorium, and she was sworn in with a lot of people.
"When it was announced that they were citizens, she turn to me and hugged me. She was so happy and was crying. She felt complete. She was so honored to be allowed to vote.
"That day she actually found somebody to help at the store so she could go. Afterward, we went right back to work. ...
"Her favorite holiday was the Fourth of July. We used to always love watching fireworks together in front of her store. Even now, when I see fireworks, I think of her. She was very childlike when she would see the sparkling lights. That holiday meant so much to her, because she truly knew the value of freedom. ...
"She learned another important aspect of being in America – the power of the people's collective voice! She found out the city had planned to close off a street in the neighborhood that would adversely affect her business and also others' easy access to their homes, so she started a petition and got enough signatures that the local councilman, Felix Fraga, came to her and agreed to support her cause. The city changed the plans, and now the street is accessible again."
"She did well, but her hours were long, and as she got older, it got harder. It was definitely not close to our house so eventually, she had to move her belongings to the back of the building, and we lived there for many years. For the most part, she worked there by herself. When I think back, I imagine it being very lonely for her. She did not have time to shop for fun or relax like other people. ...
"When I was 27, I made a deal with her that if she would just sell the store, I would work for Continental Airlines and use the benefits to take her places. To my surprise, she agreed and put the store up for sale. I had started my second week of training when I found out my mother had been killed. It was a Sunday, one week after the last time I had seen her, which was Mother's Day, and one day before the closing of the sale of her business.
"I never got to take her anywhere. I really regret that I did not have the chance to make her happy and give her the rest that she deserved."
"By advice from others, she had built a bulletproof casing around her counter, but she never liked it. She felt that it 'disconnected' her from her customers. She liked to put their groceries in the bags for them instead of sliding it under the opening. That's why she would open the small opening in the front. She would only do that when she knew the people.
"The policemen knew that about her, so they gathered that Johnny Ray Conner had been to the store before, maybe checking it out, and therefore my mother recognized him and did not feel threatened. She also had a video camera, but somehow that day, the camera stopped working."
"My grandmother, my mother's birth mother, died a month after my mother died. I was told by my relatives in Vietnam that she died the day she found out my mother had passed. You see, they lived in the country and did not have easy access to a phone, so my uncle wrote her a letter telling her about my mother's death. His youngest brother reported that when he finished reading the letter to my grandmother, she was so distraught and complained of a headache. She finally went to lie down and never woke back up.
"It was strange because the night of her death, before I had even learned about it, I had a dream that I was attending some religious ceremony in which there was a feeling of sadness. ...
"I think my bond with my mother was also very strong, because the day she died, almost to the minute that she was shot, I was experiencing a very painful headache. I remember leaving the Continental training room to splash water on my face in the restroom. I kept looking in the mirror and repeating to myself, 'I'm dying, I'm dying.' I only thought that because my head hurt so much and I was being overly dramatic.
"Little did I know, my mother had been shot three times in the head and was being rushed to the Ben Taub emergency room. I remember the time because I went back to my desk to look at the time on the computer, hoping a break would be coming up soon. What came was a note that I had to gather my belongings and go downstairs where my friend was waiting for me to take me to the hospital.
"When I asked the details of what happened, the detectives told me the time frame of the robbery and the time she was shot. It was the same time I was experiencing the head pains."
"There were so many things I discovered after she died. I truly became a woman after her death because, until then, I had always been her baby. I grew up very quickly, taking over her business (while working at Continental) so that I could get it sold. Going through all her belongings made me see her as a woman, not just my mother.
"I discovered her need to buy things in bulk and store them because she was a child of war and poverty. She always lived in fear of having to uproot and run or not have any food for our next meal. It was embedded in her psyche, the instinct to survive at a very basic level.
"You know, when 9/11 happened, I was not totally surprised. I grew up in America and had always felt very secure, as most people did, but my mother, because of the things she had gone through, had always told me never to be too secure anywhere, even in the United States. I always thought she was overreacting, until Sept 11, 2001."
"After the trial and he was found guilty, I was satisfied. Then the DA told me they had to decide about death. I did not know about all that. I did not know the difference. ...
"They said, 'If he gets life, there's the possibility of parole, and we want to make sure he doesn't do it again.' ...
"So many people, witnesses, told about his history of abuse. They were afraid, but they testified. He was very hostile to women. ...
"It was a very difficult decision for the jury. They went through all the criteria that were put forth. They found that he would do it again. If he got life, there would be the possibility of parole. ...
"I am numb about the execution right now. It's not closure to me. I have found that through my faith in God. He has carried me through my mother's death, and I know he will carry me through this. My family has been praying for Mr. Conner and especially his family. They are suffering also.
"I know God has His plan.
"So far, I am planning to go. My purpose is not to go watch a man die for his mistake. He was lost long before my mother's life was ever taken. My mission is to let Mr. Conner know I have forgiven him. I don't know if this will make this any easier for him. I am not sure, but I want to find some peace for all of us, and if this will help him on that day, I would like to do that.
"I think about his family and what they must be going through. I know they are losing someone they love, and I feel for them."
"My children will never know their grandmother, so anything that I can share with them will be helpful to me in painting the picture of her for them. ...
"I am an only child. She now has a wonderful son-in-law, Danny Nguyen, and two grandsons, Jordan (16 months), and Darrell (four months). Both are exactly one year apart. They share the same birth date. Cool, huh? ...
"I am still so very sad that my mother is not here. I wish she could have been here for my wedding and the birth of my children. All we had was each other.
"When she died, she took with her a part of my spirit. I am working on rebuilding it with each laugh my husband and children bring to my life." ">