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Store Opens Doors to Grief

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Times Staff Writer

The floors at the Northpark Plaza Albertsons were as sparkling as ever Tuesday morning. The boxes and cans were lined up on shelves with military precision. But it wasn’t business as usual.

In the 48 hours since the Irvine store had opened last, two employees had been killed and several others injured by a mentally disturbed employee wielding a three-foot sword. About 100 employees had received grief counseling.

As customers trickled in after the store opened at 7, employees stood between the soft drink displays and the refrigerated cheese, remembering the slain Judith Fleming, a 28-year Albertsons veteran, as “a mother hen.”

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Next to the green Incredible Hulk cupcakes, they talked about praying at church for John Nutting, who was stabbed near the heart in the bizarre attack Sunday morning. Between stacks of cakes and bins of rolls, employees wearing tiny black ribbons hugged one another.

Customers shared their grief, adding daisies, sunflowers, roses, carnations and irises to a makeshift memorial outside the store in a strip mall nestled amid gated communities.

“We wanted to give them a hug and tell them we will keep coming,” said Betty Martinez, who lives down the block from the store at Irvine Boulevard and Culver Drive.

Joseph Parker, who bagged groceries at the store, went on a rampage Sunday morning, killing Fleming, 55, and Nutting, 60, before police shot him to death.

In a short prayer before the store opened, Irvine Police Chaplain Michael Anthony reminded workers of the heroic actions of customers and employees, including store manager Tony Fitzgerald, who cornered Parker in the back of the store and was cut on the hand.

“Like with 9/11, the events of Sunday morning revealed the truth of what we’re made of,” Anthony told the group. “We discovered the true definition of a hero. It was seen in Tony and several customers who put their own lives at risk so others could flee to safety.”

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The mystery of how and where Parker got the sword deepened Tuesday. Police said they had found a receipt for the sword used in the attack. But the owner of the Stanton martial arts store where the receipt came from says Parker bought a special-order sword that won’t be in for another week.

Terry Miller said Parker first came into the store last Wednesday and browsed for more than an hour.

“I’d never seen him before,” she said. “He’s not a regular customer -- I got the feeling he was walking by and just came in.”

The next day, she said, he showed up again.

“He knew exactly what he wanted,” she said. “He seemed like a nice guy; there were no red flags. He asked me about the color of the handle and such. I thought he was a collector.”

She said Parker ordered an ivory-handled sword, decorated with a dragon’s head, from a catalog and paid $430.99 with a credit card. The next day, she said, he called to give her a phone number, which she promised to call once the sword came in.

The next time she heard of Parker, Miller said, was in newspaper accounts.

On Tuesday, supermarket customers made excuses to themselves to come to the store so they could show support for the employees. They bought few items, but lingered in the aisles to chat. Others, like Irvine resident Mary Sackman, brought cards and flowers.

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They not only remembered Nutting and Fleming, but, eerily, the times they had dealt with Parker.

Shopper Aidee Suarez said Parker “would help me with my groceries. He seemed very nice, very friendly and helpful.”

But she noted that Parker, described by many shoppers and co-workers as an odd man who often talked to himself, “was the first person to come to my mind, unfortunately” when she heard of the attack.

Suarez came to the store because the employees “are like my extended family.”

Cathy Aronson said she waited outside the store four hours Sunday to make sure her favorite checkout clerk had survived. On Tuesday, still scared by what had happened, she forced herself to return.

Customer Beth Collins cried at the checkout counter, at the makeshift memorial and as she returned to her car.

“You feel like you lost your family,” she said.

“You think things are safe, and then you see this can happen anywhere.”

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