Teens Whose Parents Died in Shooting Focus on One Another

They long for the routine, the simple things they will never get back: their mother’s home-cooked meals and even those nagging phone calls at 10 p.m. asking, “When are you coming home?”

They try to eat but have no appetite. They try to sleep but are haunted by visions of gunfire and their parents dying in front of them.

This is what the days have become for the three children of May Tran, 42, and Khiem Nguyen, 41, who were killed Tuesday afternoon inside their Garden Grove home by a gunman police believe was angry over a failed relationship with Nguyen.

Two of the children, 14 and 17, were also wounded, but are recovering. The oldest son, 19, came home to the chaos 30 minutes later. Early Wednesday morning, police fatally shot the alleged killer after he opened fire on SWAT officers, injuring one.

In the pediatrics unit at UCI Medical Center, Nancey Tran, the youngest, barely sleeps. Cartoons and upbeat movies, designed to distract, are constantly blaring from the television. Her brothers crack jokes and refrain from talking about the shooting.

“The first thing on our minds was not to talk about what happened,” said Minh Tran, her oldest brother. “We knew what happened.”

But Nancey can’t stop reliving the shooting.

“I have a vision,” she said softly, closing her dark-brown eyes. “I see the man with the gun, coming at us.”

The man, Thu Van Tran, was not a stranger to the family. Police believe he was romantically involved with Nguyen and became angry after May Tran returned home from Atlanta, where he had been trying to open a Vietnamese restaurant and relocate the family.

Thu Van Tran’s family painted the picture of a generous businessman finalizing a divorce from his wife of 20 years, but struggling financially because of taxes he owed and frustrated over his deteriorating relationship with Nguyen.

But Nguyen’s children said their mother never allowed the relationship to move beyond friendship and had asked her husband to return to Garden Grove because she felt Thu Van Tran “was crossing the line.”

“My mom was a very traditional Vietnamese wife,” Minh Tran said. “Occasionally, he would bring gifts to the family to try to earn my mother’s heart. But my mom didn’t want to see him anymore.”

In the last few months, she tried to distance herself from him. But he continued to call and visit, a pattern that became so worrisome that she asked her husband to come home. After May Tran returned, he tried to intervene.

It didn’t work, though no one thought Thu Van Tran would resort to violence. “He didn’t strike me as the type of guy who could do that,” Minh Tran said.

The three teens will never know why. Instead, they focus on each other and on getting by, one day at a time.

The middle child, Hien, 17, doesn’t talk much. He sits with his foot elevated, the pain of the bullet wound dulled by Vicodin. He said he does not know how to express what he is feeling. His relatives see him shaking his head and wiping away tears.

The teens gathered Thursday at the hospital for the first time since their parents died, a family of five now reduced to three.

Nancey was not told until late Wednesday that her parents were dead. She cries at the mention of them, begs to see them and wants the details of how many times they were shot.

“I have to stay strong and watch out for my sister,” Hien said.

His brother added: “My mom was her closest friend.”

On Wednesday, the La Quinta High School freshman drank only water. Thursday, she forced herself to sit up in her hospital bed and eat. She even laughed. Friday, she took a few hesitant steps on crutches and her family hopes she will soon be strong enough to walk out of the hospital.

“I said, ‘You need to eat, focus on sleep and be healthy for tomorrow,’ ” said Long Nguyen, the children’s uncle. “We have to move on and do the funeral. She didn’t eat, but I said, ‘You want to see them one last time? You have to eat.’ ”

Minh Tranh, a part-time Orange Coast College student who works half days at a video store, said he is the luckiest of the siblings -- if it can be considered lucky -- because he didn’t have to witness the same “nasty things.”

But as the eldest child, he bears a different burden: “I guess I’m the oldest because my age says I am, but I don’t consider myself the head of the household. I have to try to measure up to the expectations.”

Friends and family said the couple were devoted to their Catholic faith. May Tran helped resettle his hometown church in Vietnam to Garden Grove.

One longtime friend recalled a time he was supposed to meet May Tran for coffee, only to have the get-together canceled because Tran had bought $300 worth of hot dogs and had planned a cookout at Edinger Park for anyone needing a free meal.

As generous as they were to strangers, they were more so with their children. A tight budget didn’t stop May Tran from presenting his son with a bronze Honda Prelude on his 18th birthday.

The parents hoped life would be even better in Atlanta.

“They were talking like a happy family,” said relative Thanh Nguyen, who saw them the night before they died.

“Then boom-boom-boom, this happens. How can I believe it?”