A shrine, a shame
Outside the charred remains of a ruined home in South Boston, a makeshift shrine has sprung up.
It is full of good wishes for the souls of the two girls who used to live there, the sisters who lost their lives in a gruesome arson. The shrine includes pictures and poetry and expressions of shock and anger. But mostly, it expresses grief.
A few blocks away, in South Boston Municipal Court, Nicole Chuminski was arraigned yesterday on charges of murder in the deaths of 14 year-old Acia Johnson and her 3-year-old sister, Sophia.
Chuminski has been called the lover of Anna Reisopoulos, the mother of the girls. Lover seems like a jarring description for someone who is accused of setting the blaze that took the lives of two children.
After pleading not guilty, Chuminski was ordered held on $1 million cash bail. After the arraignment, her attorney, William M. White, insisted that his client would never have committed such a horrible act.
"She had a relationship with those children," he said on the courthouse steps. "She certainly has been very emphatic that she did not commit this crime." He described Chuminski as very sad about the whole thing.
Even by the standards of a city that has grown accustomed to seeing young people die, this crime was shocking. Prosecutors say Reisopoulos and Chuminski had an argument earlier that evening, a fight in which Chuminski allegedly hit Reisopoulos after accusing her of stealing a wallet at a family wedding. Authorities say that a few hours later Chuminski decided to burn her house down, a house she knew to have a family inside. Reisopoulos and her son managed to survive the blaze.
A jury will ultimately decide what happened, but at first blush, White faces a daunting task. Prosecutors say that an accelerant found at the scene matches an accelerant on Chuminski's clothes. They also say they have witnesses who can place her at the scene at the time of the blaze, which was 3:07 a.m. That could be a lot to explain away.
Not surprisingly, the friends and family of the victims are wracked with grief and not a little anger. "I can't really wish death on anyone," said Michael Davis, a cousin of the girls' father. "It's not for me to say who should live or die. But I don't think she should be breathing the same quality air I do."
He said his cousin is doing as well as could be expected. He added that the fire has left Reisopoulos essentially homeless.
He wasn't the only distraught relative on hand. One group of relatives and friends stood outside the courthouse with T-shirts bearing pictures of the fire's victims.
"We want justice," said Aida Ramos, a family friend.
Emotion boiled over into a brief street-corner confrontation on East Broadway. Some of the girls' relatives, who had addressed the media, were still outside the courthouse as Chuminski's sisters made their way to their car. They followed them down the street, yelling and cursing. The Chuminskis drove away silently.
Shrines have become a common sight at homicide scenes, but the one on West 6th Street seemed especially forlorn. Part remembrance and part emotional outlet, it attempted to express the inexpressible.
"RIP Cece-n-Bookie" read one sign. "Cece Johnson never made it to her career" said another. One poem talked about everlasting friendship; another, called "Sent To Heaven," needs no explanation. Down the block, some of the friends and relatives who had been at the courthouse earlier milled around the corner without any apparent purpose.
Whatever mystery may surround this crime, this much seems certain: Two girls lost their lives in an act of stunning cruelty and stupidity. Their mother will live with that act forever, as will whoever committed it.
Reisopoulos seems to have contributed to the shrine herself. A simple sign read, "I love you Acia and Sophia. Love you always Mommy."
Adrian Walker is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at walker@globe.com.
