71. The Inferno (The Station nightclub fire)

Support for swindled comes from Simply Safe.

For the longest time, I thought home security meant an alarm going off after someone broke in.

But if the alarm is already blaring, it's too late.

The damage is done.

That's a reactive approach, and it leaves you with that awful feeling of violation, even if the intruder runs away.

That's why I switched to Simply Safe.

They've completely changed the game with Active Guard outdoor protection.

designed to stop crime before it starts.

Their smart, AI-powered cameras don't just detect motion.

They can tell you when there's a person lurking on your property.

That instantly alerts SimplySafe's professional monitoring agents in real time.

And here's the game changer.

The agents can actually intervene while the intruder is still outside.

Talk to them through two-way audio, hit them with a loud siren and spotlight.

and call 911 if needed.

It's proactive security, and that's real security.

I trust SimplySafe because there are no long-term contracts, no hidden fees, and a 60-day money-back guarantee.

They've been named best home security systems by U.S.

News and World Report for five years in a row, and I can see why.

Get 50% off your new SimplySafe system at simplysafe.com/slash swindled.

That's 50% off your new SimplySafe system by visiting simplysafe.com/slash swindled.

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This episode of Swindled may contain graphic descriptions or audio recordings of disturbing events which may not be suitable for all audiences.

Listener discretion is advised.

Apparently somebody who is serious ass with that screen was made and they are uncomfortable.

Monday, February 17th, 2003, just after 2 a.m.

It was ladies' night at the E2 Nightclub above the Epitome Restaurant on South Michigan Avenue in Chicago.

A fight breaks out between two women near the DJ booth on the crowded dance floor.

Purses are flying through the air.

Punches are thrown.

Others join in to create what one witness called an endless circle of people fighting.

To stop the violence, One of E2's bouncers sprayed the crowd with pepper spray.

The chemical fumes spread throughout the club, burning the lungs and eyes of unsuspecting patrons.

Confusion abounded.

What's in the air?

Why are people choking?

I'll bet it's bin Laden, someone yelled.

Well, some people was like, it's bin Laden.

I'm like, they was saying silly stuff.

Invoking that name anywhere, during the height of anthrax scares and color-coded terror alerts, was akin to yelling fire in a crowded theater.

Everyone in the club screamed and ran for the exit.

There was one way out, through the inward opening doors down a steep and narrow flight of stairs and out into the street.

A stampede of people burst through the doors, knocking those on the other side down the stairwell.

Many stumbled and fell.

The rush kept coming.

Bodies piled up on the ground floor, six feet high, until they completely blocked the exit.

People stomping on each other, just trembling on each other, man.

It was just chaotic.

We're all screaming and praying that, you know, people don't step on us.

It was like the Titanic at a nightclub.

I picked a person up with his face crushed.

Face was crushed.

Blood, nose, broke, everything.

Two ladies I picked up died.

People collapsed right in front of our face.

Tell my mama I love her, man.

I don't think I'm going to be able to make it no longer.

The club's security guards tried freeing people from the pile until emergency services arrived.

Police and firefighters used sledgehammers to open additional windows and doors.

doors.

It took half an hour to untangle the carnage.

At the bottom of the pile were 21 lifeless bodies, 12 women and 9 men, between the ages of 19 and 43 years old.

The coroner's office later determined that the main cause of death was compressional asphyxia.

The weight of the pile had compressed the victims' bodies so much that their vital organs were deprived of oxygen.

More than 50 others were injured.

Anton Myers, who died in the tragedy, left a newborn baby daughter behind.

Maurice Robinson was out celebrating his 23rd birthday, but didn't live to see it.

Nicole Patterson, Bianca Ferguson, Teresa Gordon, and 16 others lost their lives far too soon.

It was an accident, sure.

The victims' families understood that.

But surely, there must be someone responsible.

This club needs to be shut down, man.

How do you have 1,500 people in there and one way up out of there?

This was a terrible tragedy that never should have occurred, Chicago's Mayor Richard Daly said in a statement later that day.

We will take whatever steps are necessary to make sure that nothing like this ever happens again.

Police in Chicago are investigating a deadly stampede early today at a crowded nightclub.

At least 21 people were killed, scores more injured.

Many in the community were not surprised that disaster had finally occurred at E2.

In the past two years, ever since the club had relaxed the dress code, police had been summoned more than 80 times for everything from assaults to shootings.

This could have been avoided, Derek Mosley, president of a neighborhood group, told the New York Times.

The club owner was more interested in money than saving people, he said.

The investigation revealed multiple building code violations.

For starters, E2 reportedly allowed more than 1,100 people into the club that night.

A fire prevention expert calculated that the maximum capacity of the room was 240.

Inspectors had also determined that the club's exits lacked sufficient lighting, and many of the alternative routes the night of the stampede were barricaded with bags of laundry and other hazards.

Furthermore, months before the tragedy, in the summer of 2002, City officials had actually filed a court order to bar patrons from the second floor of the building because of shoddy construction.

However, E2's owners would would later claim that they thought the ruling only applied to the VIP mezzanine that had been built above the dance floor.

So the club continued to operate as normal, just without the skybox.

The city should have known, the club owners' lawyers argued.

Huge crowds of people were coming and going every night.

They were advertising on the radio and the internet.

If the club was supposed to be shut down, the club's defenders posed.

Why was the injunction not enforced?

Attorneys for the city of Chicago claimed that they thought the swarms of people belonged to the ground floor restaurant, and it was simply impossible to force people to follow the law.

They were bent on breaking the law.

If the city put a padlock on the doors, they would have cut the padlock.

Reverend Jesse Jackson, the former presidential candidate and friend of one of E2's owners, was among those that immediately defended the club.

He warned the public not to rush to judgment.

Many wondered aloud if the slow response time and botched rescue effort from emergency services were racially motivated and therefore responsible for the scale of the tragedy.

How much did that contribute to it in your

big when you when you combine a small fight and a big reaction?

Immediately, mace, a pepper spray, takes the rest of the oxygen out of the room.

So somebody says poison gas.

Someone says terror.

Someone said Ben Layton.

Security footage of that night released soon after Mr.

Jackson's remarks all but put his theories to bed.

Firefighters and paramedics arrived on the scene at 2.28 a.m., just four minutes after receiving the first report from a club patron that a pregnant woman had been overcome with pepper spray.

In fact, every call for help from the club that night was made by a patron or a witness.

Not a single request came in from anyone on E2's staff.

Seven months after the stampede, a Cook County grand jury charged club owners owners Dwayne Kyles and Calvin Hollins Jr., promoter Marco Flores and Calvin Hollins III, with involuntary manslaughter.

All four men pleaded not guilty, and the charges never stuck.

In November 2009, all four men were acquitted.

Instead, co-owners Dwayne Kyles and Calvin Hollands Jr.

were convicted of indirect criminal contempt.

for ignoring the 2002 court order to close the entire second floor of the club.

Both men were sentenced to two years in prison.

Both the E2 club and the Epitome restaurant were permanently closed.

The former owners of a Chicago nightclub where a terrifying stampede killed 21 people in 2003 were both sentenced to two years in prison for not closing the second floor of their bar.

Dwayne Kiles and his partner Calvin Hollins beat manslaughter charges in the deaths of those people, but they are going to jail for a housing code violation.

And their attorneys say never in the history of this this country has a building code violation resulted in a prison sentence until now.

However, in 2011, a court overturned the owner's sentences upon appeal.

Justices Michael Murphy, John Steele, and Patrick Quinn agreed that the 2002 court order to close the business was ambiguous.

We understand the horrible tragedy involving the E2 Nightclub and do not wish to diminish the seriousness of that incident, they wrote in their opinion.

However, we agreed that the violation of the building court order had nothing to do with the tragedy.

The real tragedy, at least according to the defendant's attorney, besides the people who lost their lives, of course, was that Mr.

Hollins and Mr.

Kyles were used as scapegoats when the true culprit was the city of Chicago all along.

None of that mattered to the families of the victims who experienced a new wave of anger after the appellate court's ruling.

Gail Garrett, whose 31-year-old daughter, Teresa Gordon, was killed in the stampede, told the Chicago Tribune that the reversal was like a brand new wound being opened up.

It's taken me years to suture this one shit, she said.

And now I feel like the suture is being clipped open and now I'm bleeding again.

This was my only daughter.

I'm not looking for punishment.

I need an answer.

Who was truly responsible for this horrific tragedy?

And whoever it is, can you step up to the plate and take responsibility?

That wasn't going to happen, but the quest for justice wasn't over.

In April 2013, just six weeks after the 10th anniversary of the worst nightclub calamity in Chicago history, the Illinois Supreme Court overturned the appellate court's ruling.

Dwayne Kiles and Calvin Hollins Jr.

were again guilty of criminal contempt.

However, this time the two men were sentenced to two years of probation and 500 hours of community service.

The editorial board at the Chicago Tribune referred to the light sentences as, quote, the criminal justice system's final whimper.

The lengthy court battle had taken its toll on Dwayne Kyles and Calvin Hollands Jr.

though.

Both men declared bankruptcy before using two and a half million dollars in liability insurance to settle civil suits with the victims' families.

I'm angry, Hollins told Time Out Chicago about being scapegoated.

The city's case was ludicrous.

They had to pin this on someone because they fucked up.

Calvin Hollins Jr.

also told Time Out that even a decade later, the tragedy still keeps him awake at night.

I still see those faces, he said.

I see those people reaching out to me for help, grabbing for life.

When it happened, the E2 nightclub tragedy.

was a wake-up call about building safety code violations.

Many states and municipalities in America analyzed their own laws and enforcement procedures.

Some made changes accordingly.

Others felt secure with what legislation was already in place.

On February 20th, 2003, just three and a half days after the E2 nightclub stampede, Rhode Island's fire marshal Irving J.

Owens was asked by the Associated Press about his state's fire codes as it related to the recent disaster in Chicago.

Fire Marshal Owens dismissed the danger, quote, it's very remote.

Something like that would happen here.

A fire at a concert in West Warwick, Rhode Island, results in one of the most deadly nightclub disasters in United States history.

On this episode of Swindled,

they bribed government officials to find accounting.

Clear violations of

state law clearly unethical pay to play millions of taxpayer dollars that were wasted.

have the team records in the high point.

Support for swindled comes from Simply Safe.

For the longest time, I thought home security meant an alarm going off after someone broke in.

But if the alarm is already blaring, it's too late.

The damage is done.

That's a reactive approach, and it leaves you with that awful feeling of violation, even if the intruder runs away.

That's why I switched to Simply Safe.

They've completely changed the game with Active Guard outdoor protection, designed to stop crime before it starts.

Their smart, AI-powered cameras don't just detect motion.

They can tell you when there's a person lurking on your property.

That instantly alerts SimplySafe's professional monitoring agents in real time.

And here's the game changer.

The agents can actually intervene while the intruder is still outside.

Talk to them through two-way audio, hit them with a loud siren and spotlight, and call 911 if needed.

It's proactive security, and that's real security.

I trust SimplySafe because there are no long-term contracts, no hidden fees, and a 60-day money-back guarantee.

They've been named best home security systems by U.S.

News and World Report for five years in a row, and I can see why.

Get 50% off your new SimplySafe system at simplysafe.com swindled.

That's 50% off your new SimplySafe system by visiting simply safe.com slash swindled.

There's no safe like simply safe.

They're playing tonight here in West Warwick at the sold-out station.

A few opening bands.

And Jack Russell is taking the stage with Great White around 11 o'clock tonight.

And thanks very much, Mr.

Agreement to do this.

this on the show.

Oh, my pleasure, bro.

Jim Gahan and Michael Riccardi bonded over music.

The two students met in the cafeteria at Nichols College in Dudley, Massachusetts on September 11th, 2001.

Michael, a 21-year-old transfer, was wearing a tour shirt for the rock band Poison.

Jim, a 19-year-old freshman, loved that era of music.

and offered a positive comment.

The two young men talked for about 15 minutes that day over breakfast.

They shared the names of their favorite songs and favorite albums that were recorded during a simpler time.

Jim and Mike's conversation was rudely interrupted when the first plane hit the World Trade Center.

Since that moment, the two boys were never too far apart.

Jim and Mike self-admittedly lacked the talent required to become rock stars themselves, but Everything about the music industry fascinated them, from the business end of record contracts and tour writers to the logistics of putting on a live show, Jim Gahan and Mike Riccardia discovered their passion and wanted to be involved.

They hoped that their education would someday get them a foot in the door.

Naturally, when the opportunity arose, Jim and Mike jumped at the chance to host their own college radio show.

Jim and Mikey's Power Hour on 951 WNRC,

playing the best of 80s hair metal, their slogan said.

Two decades too late.

The radio station broadcast barely reached the outskirts of the Nichols College campus, but that did not stop the young enthusiasts from leveraging their platform into meeting their heroes.

In November 2002, Jim and Mike interviewed Gary Shiron, who sang for the band Extreme and then later Van Halen.

Michael had asked the least memorable singer of Van Halen if he ever had the urge to bring back the Aquinette hairspray from the 80s.

The answer was no.

Overall, that first interview went great.

The boys were having fun.

In fact, Michael Riccardi had already managed to line up another interview in February with Jack Russell, the lead singer of Great White, the band best known for their Grammy-nominated cover of Ian Hunter's Once Bitten, Twice Shy.

That song was released in 1989.

More than a decade had passed since Great White was selling millions of records and playing in arenas.

More than a decade of addiction issues, personnel changes, and hiatuses.

Yet the band always seemed to return every couple of years with new music and a new tour.

Just like a bad habit that couldn't be kicked.

By 2003, Great White was playing Roadhouses and D markets to less than 500 fans.

Their audience had significantly diminished.

The good money had dried up.

Hair metal, glam metal, whatever you want to call it, was long gone.

Rock stars no longer dressed up like superheroes that didn't exercise, and the sexually charged innuendos commonly recycled in songs about cherry pies, roses, motorcycles, and guns were played out and cheesy.

The entire genre was a mascara stain on musical history.

Or maybe it requires a more refined palette.

Art is subjective, you know.

Jim Gahan loved Great White unapologetically.

That confidence and security in his interests are what made him such a joy to be around, others have said.

Jim was beyond excited to sit down with Jack Russell, one of his favorite frontmen.

And when that day arrived, February 20th, 2003, neither he nor Mike could hardly contain themselves.

As soon as the school day was over, the two students hopped in the car with their CD binders in hand and drove an hour southeast to Rhode Island, where Great White was scheduled to perform later that night.

Jim Gahan and Mike Ricardi arrived at the venue a little after 6 p.m.

Splace called the Station.

It was a one-story wood-framed building on Coweset Avenue in West Warwick that had gone through several incarnations since it was built in 1946.

Originally, the building housed a gin mill, then it became a bar for sailors, then an Italian restaurant in the 70s.

Finally, the building was converted into a nightclub sometime in the early 90s.

Ever since, multiple owners have used it to serve alcohol and concerts to the thirty thousand blue collar locals that lived twenty miles south of Providence.

The station was mostly empty when Jim Gahan and Mike Ricardi walked through the front door.

The place was dark, the ceiling was low, it smelled like stale beer and cigarettes.

It felt like home.

The boys introduced themselves to a doorman who retrieved Great White's tour manager.

Dan Beakley introduced himself to the boys and escorted them to the tour bus after the sound check.

There sat the man himself, Jack Russell, a little older and a little more bloated than in the magazine photos, but a gracious and generous interview.

All right, and we're back with Jim here out of the Rock Power Hour with Jack Russell doing my end of the interview.

Last thing is what, to anyone watching this or listening to this on the radio, what's the one piece of advice that you can give to someone like me and Mike who are getting into the music business?

And to help to try to turn it around what's the one piece of advice that you can give any of us get out now get a real job it's all going to hell

jim gahan and mike ricardi were thrilled with the outcome jack russell was so cool and humble he answered all of their questions and even put them on the guest list for the show that night The boys couldn't wait to edit the tape of the interview.

They went to a nearby Taco Bell to work and kill some time before the concert began.

When Jim and Michael returned to the station a little after 9 p.m., the local band Thathead was finishing their set, and the crowd had filled in most of the space.

Fans of all ages and regulars of the club were standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the stage.

There was Tracy King, the bouncer.

You couldn't miss him.

There was Andrea Mancini.

She was standing in the narrow corridor up front, taking tickets and tracking attendance.

Her husband Steve and his cousin Keith were performing as part of the opening act.

Jeff, the owner of the station, was behind the main bar serving drinks.

Many others were still outside smoking joints, making out or taking a piss in the parking lot.

As the night wore on, more people arrived in anticipation of the headliners.

Gina Russo, a 35-year-old single mother, rediscovering her love for rock and roll, made her way closer to the stage with her fiancé Fred Chrysostomy.

Mike Gonsalves, aka Dr.

Metal, a local radio DJ, appeared on stage between bands to toss out hats and t-shirts.

Joe Kinnan and his childhood friend Carla Bagtaz shuffled around to find the best view.

Jim Gahan and Mike Ricardi found a spot on the second row.

They looked around the room.

There must have been hundreds of people there.

packed together in a small venue, each with their own unique hopes and dreams, each with momentarily overlapping destinies, just taking a break from their lives for one night.

Together they would forget about yesterday's regrets and tomorrow's worries.

They would forget about the piles of snow on the ground.

They would forget about everything.

The music would set them free.

Great White took the stage a little after 11 p.m.

The crowd grew tighter.

Those first guitar notes hit.

The pyrotechnics on stage erupted.

Out comes Jack Russell with his trademark bandana around his head.

He grabs the mic and he nails the first few lines of Desert Moon.

About 30 seconds into the song, great white guitarist Ty Longley looked over his shoulder towards the back of the stage.

Something wasn't right.

There were two small symmetrical flames on the wall behind the drum riser where the sparklers were aimed.

A few seconds later, the rest of the band noticed and stopped playing.

Frontman Jack Russell announced into the microphone, That's not good, and he doused the rapidly spreading flames with a bottled water to no avail before exiting the stage.

It took some audience members longer than others to realize that the flames were not part of the show.

Fred Chrysostomy was one of the first.

He had led Gina Russo to a side door guarded by an unaware bouncer.

who denied their exit before they doubled back to the front.

By this time, the rest of the crowd had realized the danger.

There was a rush for the exit.

The fire was getting worse.

The alarms were blaring and blinking.

Panic set in.

Jim Gahan and Mike Ricardi stuck together until the smoke came.

Then the room went pitch black and toxic.

Visibility was zero.

The room was getting hotter.

The crowd wasn't moving.

The front entrance was completely deadlocked from everyone trying to leave at once.

The fire raced across the ceiling, which began to melt and drip onto the terrified crowd below.

People's hairspray burst into flames.

Spandex fused into their skin.

Their shoes were melting to the floor, all the while desperately clawing their way towards safety, one inch at a time.

Fire.

Two fires.

Correct, please call them.

Did Richmond call you for help?

Not yet.

We're gonna we're gonna give them

some help.

Why?

Because they have 200 people trapped in our building.

That's what I heard.

Yep.

Yep.

We're gonna

have some people.

Okay.

I just wanted to see if they contacted you.

Okay.

Thanks.

Bye.

Let's look like there are approximately 200 people trapped inside the building.

Tension engines 4, 1, 2, 3, ladder 1, battalion 1, respond to the station on Coiset Avenue for report of a fire.

Engine 4, I'm seeing reporting heavy fire 2313.

Battalion 1.

Battalion 1, have a report of a female trapped in the female bathroom there, also.

Go ahead, Battalion 1.

Yeah, we need multiple rescues here.

We have to

set up a station area for rescues.

We have multiple people injured here.

We double-seated.

We got people in a building.

Messenger safe.

File on to Battalion 1.

Land 1.

Trying to step under the rescue.

You've got to serious

Step!

I got four victims overhead, third spring burns.

I'm on the side of the live truck.

All right, we're gonna start the triage here.

Start triaging people.

Those that made it outside tried pulling people to safety through windows and out of the log-jammed front door.

One man described trying to free a man from the pile by tugging tugging on his arm.

He told CNN that the man's skin peeled off like a sweater and fell to the floor.

People were stacked six feet high in the doorway.

Hands and screams and terrified faces protruded from the darkness, begging for help.

Seconds later, that stack of people was swallowed by the inferno.

The inside of the building grew eerily quiet.

Emergency crews arrived quickly, but it was much too late.

Within minutes, the station was completely enveloped in flames.

Firefighters used a lasso-type tool to retrieve the bodies.

They said it was difficult to discern between those still breathing and those whose skin was steaming in the cold night's air.

A triage center was set up for the injured at the Kawisid Inn across the street from the club.

Some of the victims' burns were so severe that rescue workers claimed they prayed to to God for them to die.

We were just walking back in and everybody was running out.

People are running out on fire.

It's pretty much

probably the worst thing I've ever seen in my life.

By the early morning hours of February 21st, 2003, there was nothing left of the station.

It was a pile of charred wood surrounded by now ownerless cars.

The parking lot remained chaotic.

People wandered around in shock, screaming the names of their missing loved ones and studying every suit-covered face that passed by.

Rescue workers removed 96 bodies from the remains of the building that day.

They paused for each one, removed their hats, and said a little prayer.

The majority of the corpses were recovered from the five-foot pile in the entryway.

Others were found trapped in the bathroom or near the club's kitchen.

or underneath windows.

Some of them were just feet away from an exit.

Ambulances took almost 200 other people to the hospital with injuries.

Dozens were in critical condition.

Jessica Garvey's sister, Dana, is unaccounted for.

She worked as a waitress at the club.

She usually doesn't work Thursday nights.

And it was her birthday.

She's got a seven-year-old son who right now is with relatives and not aware of what's going on.

He just thinks his mom's sick.

Rhode Island's recently sworn-in governor, Donald Kachiri, cut short a working vacation to return to the state and meet with the victims' families.

However, most of the families had yet to receive any confirmation that their relatives had perished.

Because of the severity of the injuries, Governor Karchieri relayed.

Very few of the deceased and injured had been identified.

Only seven names had been released.

Medical examiners were using jewelry, what was left of tattoos and other distinguishing features to confirm identities.

The authorities needed help.

Governor Karchi urged local dentists to check their voicemails.

Is please check your office voicemail.

Call your office on the possibility that you are trying to be contacted.

The identification process, which would take days, was made more difficult by fraudulent missing person reports filed by con artists trying to cash in on the free hotel rooms handed out to those in need.

The prolonged wait was agonizing.

Michael Riccardi, who had been knocked to the floor during the stampede, had escaped out a window.

Once outside, Michael waited for his friend Jim Gahan at the car in which they had arrived.

Jim Gahan never showed.

Neither did Tracy King, the bouncer, nor Andrea Mancini, or her husband Steve.

Also, Dr.

Mettle was still missing.

So was Fred Chrysostomy.

However, Fred's fiancé, Gina Russo, was not yet aware of that fact.

Gina was currently in in a medically induced coma as an unrecognizable Jane Doe burned so severely that her skull was exposed.

Joe Kinnan, a 34-year-old amateur bodybuilder, was also in a coma.

He had suffered third and fourth degree burns on 40% of his body.

Joe lost his left eye, scalp, ears, toes, and all of his fingers.

He was the most severely injured survivor from the station Inferno.

Joe Kinnan's family eventually identified him by the unique arches in his feet.

Unfortunately, his friend Carla Bagtaz did not make it out alive.

As the days passed, the devastating realization of what happened began to set in for those missing loved ones.

Their friends and family members were either in a hospital burned beyond recognition or dead in a morgue.

On which list would their name appear?

Governor Karchiri shared a comforting fact to the grieving crowd that most of the casualties were caused by smoke inhalation.

A terrifying last moment, no doubt, but not as painful as being burned alive.

However, it was possible, investigators said, that at least some of the deceased had been trampled to death.

As confusion turned to anger, people demanded to know why this had happened.

One woman asked Governor Carchieri what the state of Rhode Island was planning to do.

The investigation was already underway, he assured her.

Quote, As I have said, it's a tragedy that did not have to happen.

It was a decision by someone to ignite the pyrotechnics inside that building.

We will get to the bottom of why it happened and who made that decision, he added.

And we will prosecute to the fullest extent.

The fire was one of the deadliest ever at an American nightclub and comes just four days after the fatal stampede at a nightclub in Chicago.

They are still counting the casualties in this country's second nightclub disaster in less than a week.

Dozens of people were killed, many others others injured when they were trapped last night in a fire ignited by a rock band's indoor fireworks display.

Questions about nightclub safety were being raised even before this latest calamity, which happened in West Warwick, Rhode Island, just outside of Providence.

Another nightclub tragedy.

Fireworks set this Rhode Island club ablaze.

Scores are killed.

It is one of the deadliest nightclub fires in U.S.

history.

Also tonight, a breakthrough on a critical part of the U.S.

war strategy.

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We're watching seven news on the news station.

House fires are always devastating, and fires that start in mattresses can be a shock because many times people think they've been extinguished when they suddenly burst into flames again.

Seven's Jeff Dadarian has more on the dangers of a burning bed.

They thought the mattress fire was out.

A low family member pulled the mattress outside to the porch and left it there, but the fire wasn't extinguished.

The back of the house was engulfed.

By the time it was over, eight family members were hospitalized, and two others, a father and his four-year-old daughter, were dead.

Jeff Dedarian began his career as a television reporter at Channel 6 in Providence, Rhode Island, close to where he and his brothers were raised.

Jeff made a name for himself in the news industry by helping to expose some of the state's most crooked politicians, such as Providence Mayor Buddy Ciancy,

the city's two-time, often referred to the short, trench-coated reporter, as Dick Tracy.

Jeff Dedarian's talent, drive, and fearlessness landed him a job at Channel 7 and Boston, a much larger market.

He spent the next six years covering much larger stories, like the Columbine tragedy and the September 11th terrorist attacks.

Jeff also produced award-winning special reports for the station, like how to survive a house fire and the dangers of foam insulation and mattresses.

On average, nearly 600 people die from mattress fires each year, and thousands more are injured.

Two things make these fires deadly: speed and the intense smoke.

If they have a fire in their mattress, don't ever think it's out.

Call the fire department.

That's what we're here for.

Jeff Dadarian, 7 News.

But at 36 years old, the commute to Boston from Cranston, Rhode Island was wearing on Jeff Dadarian.

He wanted to be able to spend more time with his wife and his twin boys.

So in 2003, Dadarian accepted a job closer to home at WPRI.

The pay cut was significant, but the proximity to his family was worth it.

Besides, there were other ways to make a living.

Jeff Dadarian and his brother Michael, a finance professional and entrepreneur, created a partnership to generate passive income.

Together, the Dadarian brothers purchased a shale gas station, and in March 2000, they added an old nightclub in West Warwick to their portfolio.

They renamed it the station.

To be honest, the station had not been a great investment in the three years that the brothers had owned it.

They dumped thousands of dollars into improving the place, fixing the doors, hanging up curtains, and plastering the walls and ceiling with soundproof foam.

Actually, the foam wasn't so much an improvement as it was a requirement.

The residential neighborhood surrounding the station had been complaining about the concert noise for years.

The Dadarians wanted to be good neighbors.

They also wanted to have their entertainment and liquor licenses approved.

In addition to being a money pit, the station was also a time suck.

On some days, Jeff Dadarian would get home from his reporter job, take off his suit, and put on his station-logoed polo shirt and tin bar at the club himself.

So much for spending more time at home.

And to make matters worse, the station wasn't generating much income at all.

If it did, it certainly wasn't passive.

And the club was keeping Jeff away from his wife and kids.

The station was defeating its purpose.

So in early 2003, Jeffrey and Michael DeDarian planned to sell it.

There was a purchase agreement already signed.

The check was cashed.

In a few weeks, the station would be somebody else's problem.

On Thursday, February 20th, 2003, Jeff Dedarian's two occupations crossed over.

In response to the stampede at the Chicago nightclub a few days earlier, WPRI planned to produce a segment on nightclub safety.

Jeff Dadarian, WPRI's new reporter and nightclub owner, offered the station as the perfect place to shoot B-roll footage.

The club would be crowded that night.

80s legends Great White were set to perform.

That evening, Brian Butler, a photo journalist from Channel 12, captured the entire event on videotape as it tragically unfolded.

From the initial sparks on stage to the frantic rush for the door, the sounds, the visuals, the speed.

It's horrific footage.

There was no way to stop the fire once it started.

No one had water.

There was the crowd is at least 10 or 12 deep from where I was.

When I turned around, some people were already trying to leave, and others were just sitting there going, yeah, that's great.

And I remember that statement because I was like, this is not great.

This is time to leave.

Brian Butler escaped danger by making his way to the front door soon after seeing those initial flames.

Jeff Didarian wasn't too far behind.

When interviewed at the scene, Jeff told authorities that he had been pinned against the right wall of the narrow entrance before squeezing outside.

Jeff said he helped pull people free until it was no longer safe to do so.

His face was stained black.

His shirt was covered in other people's blood and skin.

His business had just burned to the ground.

It was a tragic accident.

Jeff Dodarian and Michael Dodarian, who was out of town at the time, had nothing to hide.

They held a press conference two days after the fire to share what they knew with the public.

Jeff did all the talking.

We realize there's very little we can say that will provide comfort to the thousands of people that have been affected by this horrific tragedy.

Please know that you are in our prayers.

We are struggling with and enduring the unbearable shock and sadness with you.

This tragedy has claimed the lives of our friends.

Sorry.

People who are husbands, wives, mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters,

we will somehow live with this grief, like so many other people, for the rest of our lives.

And we'll never forget those who had been needlessly lost.

It was a total shock to me to see the pyrotechnics going off when Great White took the stage at approximately 11 p.m.

Thursday night.

As we said in the statement released yesterday, at no time did my brother or I have any knowledge that pyrotechnics were going to be used by the band Great White.

No permission was ever requested by the band or any of its agents to use pyrotechnics at the station, and no permission was ever given.

It is very difficult to express what I experienced at the club that evening, trying to get people out safely.

Please know I tried as hard as I could.

Many people didn't make it out, and that is a horror that will haunt my family and I for the rest of our lives.

There are many questions surrounding the tragedy that need to be answered, and like you, we want the answers as well.

I was interviewed on the scene Thursday night by state and local authorities and have provided all the information requested.

As you know, there's an investigation underway, and because of that investigation, we cannot answer any questions from the media at this time.

Finally, my family and I

continue to pray for the victims and their families from this horrible tragedy.

Thank you.

The Dadarians were cooperative up to this point.

The initial fingers of blame pointed to the band for igniting the pyrotechnics, especially after Jeff revealed that Great White had never asked for permission.

But that anger soon shifted to the brothers after West Warwick Police Chief Peter Brousseau told the Associated Press that the Dedarians would most definitely face criminal charges, even though the investigation had not yet been completed.

A state grand jury was set to convene to determine if those criminal charges should be filed.

However, thanks to the loose-lipped police chief and aggressive media, the Dedarians were already being judged in the court of public opinion.

The Providence Journal newspaper alone published hundreds of articles about the brothers, even publishing their home addresses while the grand jury was convening.

The newspaper erroneously reported that the club did not have the requisite number of exits.

The newspaper erroneously reported that Jeff and Michael had oversold the show and exceeded the legal capacity.

The newspaper accused the Dadarian brothers of breaking the law.

Governor Kachiri announced that there were an estimated 350 people inside of the station on the night of the fire, which exceeded the club's capacity of 300.

The station's sound manager, Paul Vanner, estimated that the actual number was closer to 325, which more closely correlated with the reported readings of the attendance clicker that disappeared in the fire that night, as well as subsequent tallies.

Either number would exonerate the Dedarian Brothers of the overcrowding accusation.

The truth was that the station's legal capacity had been increased to 404 by the city's fire inspector a year earlier after tables had been removed.

That same inspector, Dennis Laroque, also failed to notice the hundreds of square feet of highly flammable polyurethane foam that was spray-painted black and stuck to the walls and ceilings of the club with aerosol glue.

Fire safety experts have since calculated that the flammability of the foam was equivalent to 13 gallons of gasoline.

Needless to say, the foam never should have been been installed, and it was the main reason the fire had spread so quickly.

The Doderian brothers purchased that foam 18 months earlier from a neighbor of a club who worked as a salesman for the American Foam Company.

The club owners assumed what they had bought was flame-retardant and soundproof material.

But after the fire, and after some tests were performed, the foam plastered all over the station was determined to be decorative packing foam, not meant for insulation.

Many thought that seemed like the type of hazard that Fire Inspector Dennis Laroc should have discovered during his multiple visits to the club, most recently in December 2002.

Laroc later claimed that he was too, quote, blinded by anger over an inward opening door violation he had discovered during the inspection to notice the polyurethane foam, even though that same polyurethane foam covered the door in question.

Still, even with solid gasoline covering the walls and ceilings of the club, every every single person could have been saved.

The entire tragedy could have been prevented, if only the station had a fire sprinkler system installed.

However, thanks to a grandfather clause in Rhode Island's antiquated fire codes at the time, older buildings built before 1976 were exempt from present-day fire codes.

Thus, the station was legally not required to have a sprinkler system.

Perhaps the state itself was to blame.

Great white vocalist vocalist Jack Russell wasn't sure who to blame, but he knew it wasn't him.

Mr.

Russell claimed that his band absolutely had permission to use pyro at the show, despite what the Dadarians had publicly claimed.

We never do anything without asking permission first, especially something like that.

However, other club owners from around the country where Great White had performed recently disputed Jack Russell's claim.

Dominic Santana at the Stone Pony in Asbury Park, New Jersey, alleged that Russell's band used the pyro tectics at his view just days earlier without asking.

Mr.

Santana claimed he put a stop to the fireworks mid-show.

What the hell are you doing?

You have to stop right now.

We do not allow pyrotechnics.

Either way, it turns out that Dan Beakley, Great White's 26-year-old tour manager who ignited the pyro, did not have the required state permits to do such a thing.

The fireworks were used illegally with or without the club owner's permission.

Beakley was also provided written instructions by the seller on what he needed to do to safely use the sparkle fountains, or gerbs as they're called, receive clearance from the club, have a fire extinguisher handy, obtain the proper permits, and test the pyro pre-show.

Dan Beakley did none of those things in West Warwick, Rhode Island.

During the chaos that ensued after the fire that night, Multiple witnesses claimed they'd heard the tour manager say out loud, quote, I fucked up.

But despite the truth, the local media's coverage of the case fit the narrative already circulating in Rhode Island, that the Dadarian brothers were money-hungry and cheap, that they had cut corners, which created a disaster.

They were selfish and greedy.

There was a rumor that Jeff ran out of the building, saving no one but himself and the cash drawer.

The Dadarians' already tarnished reputation suffered more when the Rhode Island Department of Labor and Training fined their business $1 million for not carrying workers' compensation insurance for their part-time employees.

Failing to do so ensured that the families of the employees that died in the fire had to pay for funerals out of pocket.

The Dodarian brothers stopped talking.

There was an investigation underway.

It would do more harm than good, and it already felt like people were out to get them.

Rhode Island's Attorney General Patrick Lynch, who had been sworn into office 45 days earlier and was leading the state's investigation into the fire, publicly announced that the brothers had not been forthcoming with information.

This was after both Jeff and Mike Dadarian had provided statements to the police and after Jeff Dadarian's press conference or quote, tearful comments as Lynch referred to it.

The Attorney General held a press conference of his own and made a snide remark about the brothers cooperating more with the press than law enforcement.

Recognizing other questions, certainly what we have to ask of Mr.

Dadarian, I only hope that he's as cooperative with law enforcement offices in the future as he was with the press last night.

Attorney General Lynch later softened his remarks, quote, there are questions all of us want answers to.

In the criminal investigation, there are answers that we want and we need, and we would enjoy the opportunity of having the Dadarians responding to questions that we have.

Months passed with plenty of questions still lingering.

The grand jury investigation continued through the summer of 2003.

Governor Karchieri signed a new legislation that required sprinklers in every nightclub that served more than 150 people.

Jeff Dedarian quit his job as a news reporter, and Great White was back on tour with a new guitarist.

The band's former player, Ty Longley, died in the station fire.

A makeshift memorial had been constructed at the site where the club used to be.

Attached to the chain link fence that housed the area were two wooden crosses and a plywood heart with angels' wings covered in mementos and photographs honoring the 96 deceased.

More would be added for the four victims that succumbed to their injuries in the following weeks.

In addition to the official number of 100, people often include Lisa Marie Scott and Jennifer Stowers as victims 101 and 102 of the station tragedy.

33-year-old Lisa Scott, an injured survivor of the fire, fell down the stairs in her home and died from head trauma in August 2003.

23-year-old Jennifer Jennifer Stowers, another survivor, died from an overdose of the antidepressants she had been prescribed to deal with the trauma.

It was no secret that the survivors of the station fire were struggling, some physically with severe burns, amputations, and never-ending surgeries and recovery.

Others, including the rescue workers, were scarred emotionally with survivors guilty and PTSD, which opened the door for alcoholism and other drug dependencies.

As many as 76 children lost a mother mother or father or both in the station fire.

Families were evicted from their homes because the breadwinner had died.

Some lived in cars until those were repossessed.

Others lived on the streets.

Also, according to Rhode Island state officials, at least half of the more than 200 injured in the fire did not have health insurance.

The fire left behind a trail of misery.

To make matters worse, FEMA, the federal emergency management agency, denied Governor Kacheri's request for substantial financial aid.

Many Rhode Islanders viewed this as an act of petty revenge by George W.

Bush and the Republicans against a state that always voted blue.

These people needed help, but they weren't going to receive any from Uncle Sam.

Out of necessity, survivors and volunteers organized a few relief funds to help victims meet their daily needs.

Fundraising was pre-internet modest and local and difficult to sustain.

However, in a few months, more than $3 million had been raised thanks to charity concerts and such.

According to Scott James' book, Trial by Fire, very few pledges came from Rhode Island's wealthy.

I guess they've never been fond of rock and roll.

Nearly 10 months after the station fire, the grand jury returned with indictments.

Jeffrey DeDarian and Michael DeDarian, the club owners, and Dan Beakley, the tour manager who ignited the pyrotechnics, were each charged with 100 counts of criminal negligence and 100 counts of misdemeanor manslaughter.

It was bittersweet.

The victims were frustrated.

That's it.

What about Jack Russell?

What about the guy that sold the foam?

What about the fire inspector?

Every single one of them let off the hook.

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Now, tell me, we're going to go back to Rhode Island, the fire.

What do you remember about that night?

You know,

I have talked about this subject so many times.

I mean,

what do I remember?

I remember every single thing.

I mean, I don't really want to get into the people screaming.

You want to hear about all that?

People burning up to death?

You want to hear about that?

I don't want to hear that.

Well, there was a lot of things like the crew wouldn't let some of the people that wanted to get out let them out.

It was horrible.

I mean,

here you got...

a club owner, first of all, that installs this flammable foam on the ceiling, knows it's flammable because one of them did a report on the news about the flammability of this particular foam.

He installs it in the ceilings okay.

The fire marshal comes in, checks, okay is the club for for business.

That would have never passed.

I mean fire departments they always do a burn test on materials that adhere to a wall.

That's the law.

But in Rhode Island you can't indict a public official for being negligent.

So here's a club owner, owners, that the back door of the club, they were getting noise complaints, okay?

So what they did is they installed a second door.

and when you pushed on the emergency door it wouldn't open you had to pull it in

and what they would do for inspections they would take it off and so the door would open properly and then when the inspector left they'd put the door back on so here you had a hundred or so people in this hallway trying to push on this door that wouldn't open I remember coming out the back and I remember seeing my sowman laying in the snow I grabbed him by his forearms to pull him up and his arms just, oh, the skin just came off like bracelets on his arms.

And we were putting him on the bus and then looking for an ambulance to get him into.

And then I started trying to help other people get into ambulances and find their friends and whatnot.

It was, I don't want to talk about this anymore.

Jack Russell was haunted by that night in February 2003.

Every detail has replayed in his brain for years.

Even though he sobered up and got back out on the road, things would never be the same.

Sometimes it seems really far away, and then there's other days where, you know, I can almost smell it.

And I'm not trying to sound like, oh, poor me, because, you know, I'm one of the lucky ones.

Jack Russell lost friends in that fire.

Those were his fans.

Ty Longley was his guitarist.

Nobody wanted that to happen.

Jack Russell experienced that trauma too.

Yet, he felt so ostracized.

Jack Russell tried to organize a benefit concert in nearby Massachusetts, but complaints forced him to cancel.

He donated proceeds from a tour which ultimately drew scorn for the fund that reluctantly accepted it.

There was nothing Jack Russell could say or do to prove that he was adequately remorseful.

Was he supposed to sit at home and not play music anymore?

It was the only thing he knew and loved, and so did other people.

It's what brought everyone together at the station that night in the first place.

It's...

I mean, I wish there was something I could have done to stop that.

I wish I had a magic dream the night before.

You know, I wish that was in my everyday job to go around, look at the ceilings and check the foam and I would have found out that that foam was illegal and I would have had to tear them down and I would have closed the club, but that was not my job.

Right.

You know, and people seem to think or want to think that I have something to do with that and then I did.

I lost a lot of friends that night, you know, as did a lot of people and

it's gonna be hard you know it's gonna be hard

so I'm curious how you came about choosing the name for your upcoming album

um

it's pretty easy to figure out isn't it well I don't know the gauntlet it's a great name for a ship

Are you aware then that the actual ride that the girl was killed on last year at this farm that you're performing at today is actually called The Gauntlet?

Nah, you gotta be kidding me, man.

Really?

In case you missed that, a little context.

A 17-year-old girl named Cassidy Cherette died in a Halloween-themed hayride accident at Harvest Hills Farm in Mechanic Falls, Maine.

That haunted hayride was named the Gauntlet.

And a year after that hayride accident, Jack Russell's Great White was scheduled to play at that exact same farm in Mechanic Falls.

It was the band's first time back in New England since the fire.

They were there and supported their new album, titled The Gauntlet.

Yeah, brutal.

Oh, and that concert was canceled too.

There was a power outage shortly before Great White took the stage.

Sometimes you just can't win.

Dan Beakley had also come to that realization.

On February 7th, 2006, he pleaded guilty to 100 counts of involuntary manslaughter.

The court also announced he had written individual letters to all 100 families that had a loved one die in the fire.

Three months later, Dan Beakley was finally allowed to address the victims in person at his sentencing hearing.

For three years,

I wanted to be able to speak to the people that were affected by this tragedy.

But I know that there's nothing that I can say

or do that will ever undo what happened that night.

Since the fire, I've wanted to tell the victims and their families how truly sorry I am

for what happened that night and the part that I had in it.

I never

wanted anyone to be hurt in any way.

I never imagined that anyone ever would be.

I know how this tragedy has devastated me,

but I can only begin

to understand

what the people who lost loved ones have endured.

I don't know that I'll ever forgive myself

for what happened that night.

So I can't expect anybody else to.

I can only pray that they understand that I would do anything

to undo what happened that night

and give them back back their loved ones.

I'm so sorry for what I've done

and I don't want to cause anyone any more pain.

I will never forget that night and I will never forget the people that were hurt by it.

I'm so sorry.

Mr.

Beakley, the greatest sentence that can be imposed upon you has been imposed upon you by yourself, Judge Francis Derrigan said.

That is, having to live a lifetime, knowing that your actions were a proximate cause of the death of 100 innocent people.

Dan Beakley was sentenced to four years in prison and three years' probation.

Judge Derrigan said he considered the defendant's upstanding background and obvious remorse in the fact that his actions were, quote, totally devoid of any criminal intent.

The victims' families were split in their immediate reactions.

My initial reaction is: I think the judge was very fair, very honest.

Please, he's a joke.

This whole thing's a joke.

His character and his willingness to stand up and take responsibility for what he did.

And some people may not agree with me.

They probably wanted him to get the maximum sentence, but I do believe that it's fair.

Nothing, nothing at all.

If he was sorry, he would have said it a long time ago.

Those who were dissatisfied had one last opportunity for justice.

Jeffrey and and Michael Dedarian had pleaded not guilty and were set to go to trial.

All the evidence, all the documentation, everything would be dissected for the world to see.

Only then would the victims and the survivors of the station fire know the truth and hopefully find peace three and a half years after the incident.

But that's not what happened.

On September 11th, 2006, The prosecutors and the Dadarian brothers agreed to a plea deal.

Both would plead no contest to 100 counts of involuntary manslaughter.

However, Michael Dodarian would be sentenced to four years in prison, while Jeffrey Dadarian would serve three years on probation and 500 hours of community service.

Apparently dissatisfied with the deal to which his own office had negotiated, Attorney General Patrick Lynch's office leaked the details of the plea to the media.

Again, the victims were disappointed.

And the anger was palpable at the brothers' sentencing hearing when the victims' families were allowed to speak.

Judge Derrigan took the brunt of it.

Before I read my statement, I'd like to just say that I will address you, but I will not say your honor.

I don't think you're an honorable man, and I don't respect you.

Lastly, I would like to thank you, Judge Derrigan, for deciding for me, my family, and all the other families that we could not go through the trauma of a trial.

Our lives have been permanently altered, and we feel we were not given the opportunity to have any sort of closure if there were such a thing of closure.

We followed the rules, and we were betrayed by the very system meant to protect all of us.

Well, I hope the community service that Jeffrey gets is not picking up garbage on the highways.

I hope it's in a burned unit where he can see the suffering that these people are going through day after day.

Just make sure that...

That would satisfy me.

Well, good.

We stand here today, our hearts heavy, overflowing, not with grief, but of hatred.

Hatred of the club owner

whose only concern was money, not safety of his patrons and employees.

Hatred

of the sniveling little coward who hid the money box in the snow while people were dying in the club.

All right, sir, let's stick to the facts of hatred of the state who traded our love.

All right.

That awful night of February 20th, 2003, has forever changed me.

It saddens me that we were given no voice or opportunity to decide if we wanted to go to trial.

It makes me ill that our rights have been restricted and censored.

I can no longer pledge allegiance to a flag that promises me liberty and justice for all.

I feel sad for the families of those 100 wonderful people and I wish I'd never been born in this country.

Losing Bonnie has stripped me of my rights as an American and that's very sad.

I can no longer tell everyone how proud I am to be a part of a system where freedom meant something, justice was for everyone, and freedom of speech were not just words.

I can no longer read our Constitution and understand its meaning because my belief system is gone.

I feel betrayed, lost, and mostly heartbroken.

That's what impact the last three and a half years has been for me.

I was born an American citizen.

Now I wish I could give that citizenship back.

Thank you, Miss Bouillon.

Next, it was the defendant's turn to speak.

Jeff Dadarian read his statement first.

Here it is in full.

I first want to say how very sorry I am for all the heartache resulting from this tragedy.

100 people died and many more were injured.

I certainly know saying that I'm sorry isn't enough for people who lost so much.

I wish I could give you back what you lost, but I know I can't.

I wish I could take away all of your pain, but I know I can't.

The grief we feel, not just here today, but every day, for the last three and a half years, is so overwhelming, it's hard for us to put it into words.

Regarding the phone, I wish I knew how deadly and toxic it really was.

I take responsibility for believing it was okay when in fact it fueled a fire that consumed the building in approximately three minutes.

How I wish we knew then what we know today about that phone.

I certainly realize that does little to comfort all of you here today now.

By not moving forward to trial, we know there are many questions that remain unanswered.

While we do not have all the answers, I promise to make myself available to any agency or civil attorney representing victims of the fire and provide all information as best I can.

Please know we never ever intended to bring harm to anyone.

Through a long list of mistakes, including our own, this tragedy occurred.

We're not here to blame others.

We want to simply say that for our part, we understand your anger and we know that your pain never stops.

We realize the business we own has caused so much heartache and loss.

It has our name on it forever and that will never go away.

We wanted to say so much for so long but we were instructed that the legal process did not allow for that until today.

I have always wanted to say I will live with the fact that your son, daughter, father, mother, husband, wife, girlfriend, boyfriend are no longer here and all the little kids who wish they had their parents back.

We also live with the knowledge that so many people have been scarred both physically and emotionally, and that torment will be with me every day of my life.

As you all well know, I was there that terrible night, and the memory of that evening is something I will never forget.

It's with me when I go to bed at night.

It's with me when I wake up in the morning.

I tried, like so many other people that night, to do all I could, but the fire moved so fast, I was scared and I wish I did a better job.

I'm not asking you to feel sorry for me at all in any way.

I just want you to know that the thoughts on my conscience will never be erased just like your suffering will never go away.

There are many days when I wish I didn't make it out of that building

because if I didn't maybe some of these families would feel better

To those families, I'm sorry that I did make it out.

I know you would have liked it if I died too

I hear the screams the broken glass the terror from that night in my head the images of people fighting for their lives place over and over in my head leaving me to wonder what more I could have done to help that night

I do pledge with a sense of community service it will be meaningful and I've thought long and hard about it before today.

Those who died and those who were injured deserve nothing less.

Teaching others about fire safety and volunteering in a burn unit so I can see firsthand what victims of fire go through every single day.

To see how they struggle, to see the things they can't do, and to see the amazing courage that they have.

I also promise once my community service time is completed, I will still do more to help educate people about this tragedy and what happened.

in hopes of making sure no other family has to live through a similar nightmare again.

I would would never ask for your forgiveness.

That would be simply insulting.

And no brief statement could represent all that could be said.

But please know how truly sorry I am.

Thank you, Mr.

Dedarian.

Mr.

Michael Dedarian, you may address the court.

Michael Dedarian followed with a similar statement.

He apologized to the families.

He expressed regret for not doing more to prevent it, and he promised to keep trying to shed light on why the tragedy occurred.

Judge Derrigan then handed down the sentences outlined in the plea bargain.

Four years in prison for Michael DeDarian, three years of probation and community service for Jeffrey DeDarian.

Sheriff, you may take custody of the prison.

The criminal cases had ended, but the civil lawsuits were just beginning.

Dozens of companies have been sued by the victims.

Anheuser-Busch for sponsoring the concert.

Clear Channel, the owner of the radio station that promoted it, the local TV station whose photojournalist might have impeded the exit with his bulky camera.

JBL, the speaker company, was sued for having flammable foam in their speakers, as was the American Foam Company for obvious reasons.

In total, 65 defendants, including the Dedarians, the state of Rhode Island, the town of West Warwick, and the band Great White settled with the victims and victims' families for a combined total of $176 million,

a small pittance in exchange for lives that could not be replaced.

By 2017, both Dan Beakley and Michael Dedarian were out of prison.

Jeff Dedarian had returned to the airwaves as a radio host in Boston.

Attorney General Patrick Lynch ran for governor in 2014 but dropped out of the primaries.

And Dennis Laroque, the fire inspector was promoted to battalion chief before retiring with a disability pension everyone involved in the tragedy tried to move on with their lives but it was not something they could ever forget it's not even possible there were constant reminders everywhere they looked Relatives of the many killed and injured in the station nightclub fire are frustrated tonight after discovering the site is included in a popular game the West Warwick site is featured as a PokéStop in the Pokemon Go game this means the site is constantly visited by players.

After years of planning, land battles, and construction, the official memorial park dedicated to the victims of the Station Nightclub fire was unveiled at the site in May 2017.

This is Dave Kane, father of Nicholas O'Neill, the youngest victim of the tragedy.

It's important for people to remember today, though, not just because of the loved ones who have passed or the people who were injured.

This is supposed to be a monument to remind

state and public officials, appointed officials, elected officials, what happens when you don't do your job?

People die.

And that's what this memorial really should stand for.

As people drive by, they should be reminded to do the right thing and to make sure the people that we hire do the right thing.

The Station Memorial.

serves as a reminder of what is important to hold those in power accountable.

Because as Mr.

Cain bluntly put, when those in power don't do their job, people die.

Let the Station Memorial Park serve as a reminder to live in the moment, to cherish those close to you, because they could be gone in a flash.

Let the Station Memorial Park serve as a reminder never to let something like this ever happen again.

So tragic, so avoidable.

Is that too much to ask?

Ah, right.

How could I forget?

Humans might fancy themselves a superior species, but even primitive beasts learn from their mistakes.

It was a desperate attempt to rescue people from this Bangkok nightclub when a New Year's celebration turned tragic.

At least 59 people died after a fire raced through the two-story building, engulfing the entire structure within 10 minutes and causing a stampede near the exit.

The nightclub is located in an entertainment district of Bangkok and attracted both wealthy Thais and foreigners.

The cause of the fire is under investigation, but several eyewitnesses say the fireworks display during the New Year's countdown ignited the blame.

On-stage fireworks have sparked a fire in the ceiling covered in decorative twigs and plastic sheeting.

Within moments, people begin to stream out of the lame horse in the Ural Mountains.

Some are clearly covered in black soot.

In the panicked crush to try to get out through the club's only exit, more than 100 people died.

90 more were critically injured.

We are learning more about that staggering loss of life during the fire in a nightclub in Brazil.

231 people killed.

No alarms, no sprinklers, no fire escapes.

As we first reported on eyewitness news this morning, the death toll in the Romanian nightclub fire this weekend has risen to 29.

Though the investigation continues, the tragedy we have learned is eerily similar to the Station Nightclub fire in West Warwick back in 2003.

For a full list of people that died in the Station Nightclub fire and for more information on how to help, visit

foundation.org.

Swindled is written, researched, produced, and hosted by me, a concerned citizen, with original music by Trevor Howard, aka Deformer, aka the biggest 80s hair metal fan I've ever met.

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My name is Evelyn Kyle from Temple, Texas.

My name is Stephan from Winnipeg.

My name is Tiffany from Detroit, Michigan.

And I am a concerned citizen and a valuable

mute listener.

Actually, I'm very fucking concerned.

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Mike and Alyssa are always trying to outdo each other.

When Alyssa got a small water bottle, Mike showed up with a four-litre jug.

When Mike started gardening, Alyssa started beekeeping.

Oh, come on.

They called a truce for their holiday and used Expedia Trip Planner to collaborate on all the details of their trip.

Once there, Mike still did more laps around the pool.

Whatever.

You were made to outdo your holidays.

We were made to help organize the competition.

Expedia, made to travel.