'I Won't Give Up Hope,' Says Father |
CHICAGO, Dec. 2 - (AP) - A morgue attendant gently lifted a sheet from a charred body and said, “This is a boy.” |
John Jakowski (sic) Sr., leaned over, looked intently at the lifeless form and screamed. |
“Oh my God, my boy, my boy!”. |
Upstairs in the crowded main hall at Cook County Morgue, a deputy coroner intoned into a megaphone. |
“We are looking for the parents of an 11-year-old girl with a medal and cross around her neck. She wore a full school uniform with long black stockings. She can be identified.” |
A little woman in a tan coat cried out, then sobbed uncontrollably into the ends of her scarf. |
A blue-clad student nurse guided the woman to a seat in a smoky meeting room. A policeman led her husband past 20 other anxious parents and relatives and down the long steps to the bodies in the basement. |
In the noisy lobby, Vincent Mucci tugged at the sleeves of coroner's deputies - seeking word of his niece, Elaine Pesoli. |
“She's 9,” he said, “wearing red bobby sox and black suede shoes.” |
Hours later, Elaine's name was posted on the official death list. |
Walter Kalinowski and his red-eyed wife sat in a coroner's jury room, waiting for news of their daughter, Angeline, 14. |
“I haven't given up hope,” Kalinowski said. “I won't, unless they take me down there and show her to me.” |
The megaphone drowned out the rest of his words. |
“Clear the aisle. Keep the aisle cleared,” the deputy coroner ordered. “We'll take you down as soon as we can.” |
The small bodies, covered with blankets, were carried into the morgue from ambulances and squad cars that drew up 10 and 12 deep in the street outside. Police carried the bodies into a waiting room and put them gently down on the cold concrete floor. |