Mourning After

Stuffed animals, handwritten cards, lit candles and enormous bouquets and wreaths of flowers tumbled against the fence bordering the neat one-story beige house the Covarrubias-Valdez family had called home. On the porch, a wind chime in the shape of the cross fluttered silently.\nThe gentle roar of a jumbo jet flying above the street was the only noise that broke through the quiet stillness of Sunday evening's memorial service for the seven members of the Eastside family, who were killed last Thursday night in Indianapolis. Police and public officials are calling the home invasion the worst case of mass murder the city has seen in more than 25 years.\n"By coming together as a community, I think we sent a powerful message," Indianapolis Mayor Bart Peterson said in a phone interview, reflecting on the weekend event. "To see unity and hope come out of that was uplifting."\nWednesday, mourners gathered at a collective funeral for six of the seven slain last Thursday. \nBut Sunday's remembrance was unique in its spontaneity. Three days after the rampage occurred, the bold blue sky and sunlit street bore no trace of the screams and gunshots heard by the neighbors, save a thin stripe of yellow police tape in front of the house on Emerson Street and the mass of almost 1,000 people that had gathered. It was the crowd that was most remarkable.\nJust five rows of chairs had been set up in front of a small tent on the sidewalk, but as the 6 p.m. service began, the number of people spilled out past the street and sidewalks, onto neighbor's yards and porches. They were black, white and Hispanic, praying side-by-side. And they were all there to honor the memory of Alberto Covarrubias, 56, and his wife Emma Valez, 46, along with their children and grandchild. They were there to begin to heal from the murders that had tried to tear the community apart.\n"There are few events in the life of a city that are defining," Peterson said. "It was a defining moment that people of all colors and cultural backgrounds came together in that way."\n"I'm speechless," Maria Flores said, gazing around. The younger sister of Valdez, Flores seemed shocked by the enormous crowd of supporters that had turned out. "It means a whole lot to us," she said. "It really shows us that we are not alone."\nDesmond Turner, 28, the man accused of unleashing at least 30 rounds with an assault rifle on the family, is alone. He is currently in jail after turning himself in Saturday night, after a two-day manhunt for him. Police said that Turner, along with another suspect, James Stewart, 30, were attracted to the house after being told there were large amounts of cash and other valuables stashed inside, stories that have proved fictional since the crime. \nDeputy Chief of Operations Cliff Myers insisted that the murders were an isolated incident. \n"Indianapolis is a safe community," he said. "We have a long history of great neighborhoods, and I truly believe that's what led to such a quick capture." \nBetween 60 and 80 police officers attended Sunday's event, not only to ensure a safe service, but also to show the family their support. \n"It tore their hearts out, what happened," Indianapolis Police Department Public Information officer Sgt. Matthew Mount said. "They wanted to be here to show their support."\nValdez and her family were remembered with love during the hour long bilingual service. Her young sons, David, 11, and Alberto, 8, were welcome members at Shepherd Community Church. Pastor Jay Height, the director of Shepherd Community Center, choked back tears as he remembered the young boys who had regularly attended the programs held there.\nIn the front, the Valdez family broke down in tears, sometimes audibly sobbing, as the various religious leaders in the city spoke not only about the unity that the community had shown in the midst of the horrific violence, but about the family that would be so missed.\nOne small blonde girl named Jasmine watched quietly, not yet fully comprehending that her grandmother and father, Valdez' son Magno Albarron, 29, were never coming back, while her mother cried behind thick black sunglasses. Picture frames standing against the fence showed the most recent photos of Flora Albarron, 22, and her 5-year-old son Luis, who had just gone in the house for a visit with his grandmother when the attack occurred.\nBy the end of the service, the tears had, momentarily, ended, as the family stood together in solidarity, thanking the many well-wishers that had cared enough to help them remember the lives of their loved ones.\n"We were expecting something, but not that much," Valdez' brother-in-law, Luis Juarez of Dallas said. Then, a small smile stretching across his face, he nodded towards the family. "It's good to see them laughing now." Now was the time for healing.