Wal-Mart crowd unruly long before trampling

NEW YORK — He took his last breath on the floor at Wal-Mart, between the soda machines and a device that gives change for cans and plastic.

Trampled by a mob of bargain-hungry Black Friday shoppers, Jdimytai Damour, 34, died by asphyxiation, leaving people asking: Why, and how?

Audio-enhanced chatter captured on a cellphone video posted on YouTube and interviews with witnesses offer some hints.

The video shows a police officer crouching by a 6-foot-5-inch, 270-pound man lying at the entrance of the Long Island Wal-Mart. A paramedic pumps the man's chest so forcefully his limp legs and feet joggle. Shoppers peer from behind glass doors or stand a few feet away, hands in pockets.

"They need to shock him," a voice says.

The paramedic stops pumping. The man's shirt has been pulled to his neck, revealing his belly. A woman in the crowd mutters, "Pregnant."

Another cracks a joke.

The women laugh.

The trouble at Wal-Mart began well before the sun rose on Nov. 28, the day after Thanksgiving.

Just after 1 a.m., Jennifer Jones, 25, and her niece, Alicia Sgro, 14, joined the 200 or so early shoppers in front of the Valley Stream store, 20 miles east of Manhattan.

Jones wanted the 32-inch plasma flat-screen TV, on sale for $388. Sgro hoped to pick up DVDs, on sale for $2 to $9 each. The couple in front of them wanted the $25 microwave. The guy behind wanted the $5 blender. By the time Nakea Augustine showed up at 3:15 a.m., the line had grown to 1,000 people.

Door guards

A 59-year-old man co-workers call "Pop Pop" was stationed in front of the store. At 5-foot-11-inches and more than 200 pounds, Pop Pop had worked as a door guard for Wal-Mart for seven months.

Until three weeks ago, he had been assigned front-door duty, checking customers' receipts. He moved to back-door duty after getting fed up with rude customers.

But on that Friday, Pop Pop agreed to stand in front again, next to a set of doors away from the crowd, where customers would be leaving. Three men worked with him, including Damour.

Pop Pop, who was afraid to give his full name, remembered Damour telling him, "I don't want to be here."

Across the entrance lobby, eight men, younger than Pop Pop, guarded the door closest to the crowd. Pop Pop remembered someone telling Damour to move to that side.

By 3:30 a.m., the crowd had grown to 2,000. The line heaved and swayed. Above their heads, people passed a plastic shopping cart from hand to hand, like at a rock concert.

"It got scary out of nowhere," Augustine recalled. "The crowd in the back just pushed."

Someone yanked Augustine's pocketbook off her shoulder and ripped the side of her leather coat.

A woman pushed Jones, who said back to her: "We can't move!" She felt someone punch her left temple. The force knocked off her glasses.

Sgro fell to the ground; her right arm was broken. She telephoned her mother, Therese, telling her, "We were attacked."

Her mother called 911 and raced to the scene with her husband, Robert Sgro, a firefighter. They got there when police arrived. Therese Sgro told an officer, "Can't you see the crowd is out of control?"

She said he replied sarcastically: "I'm surprised we haven't heard gunshots yet."

Police stayed about a half-hour. Jones and the Sgros left. Meanwhile, Augustine was in line, struggling to breathe. Wal-Mart workers kept yelling at the crowd: "Move back 4 feet!"

No one did.

Store announcement

In years past, Augustine remembered, the crowd consisted of about 700 people. Nothing like this.

Shortly before 5 a.m., an announcement came over store intercom: "Doors are about to open in the next five minutes."

The crowd counted down: "Five, four, three, two, one!"

A worker inside slowly opened the door. Everyone pushed from all directions.

They knocked the door off its hinges. A worker tried to use it as a shield, but the glass shattered.

Pop Pop didn't see Damour anymore.

Augustine tried to keep her balance as she was pushed forward. She saw people fall and knew she had to keep moving lest she fall too. One woman had cuts from the glass across her face. Augustine saw Damour sprawled out. She managed not to step on him.

Durell George, 26, who was working in the store, heard people screaming and jumped out of their way. A woman in a long coat fell, but others pulled her to the customer-service section. George went to see if she was all right.

Augustine kept going, down packed aisles, moving with the crowd, still heading to the deals. She raced for the toy section and snatched up a bike, a dollhouse and 10 Hannah Montana dolls for $5 a piece.

Two hours later, she checked out, just as the store announced it was closing. She got in line and spent $495 on 36 items. She had no idea what became of the man who had fallen.

Word of death

Word eventually spread that Damour was dead. Paramedics took his body away and police declared the area a crime scene. Pop Pop joined other workers in a prayer.

More than a week after Damour's death, candles burned next to photos of him atop an altar near the spot at Wal-Mart where he died.

People wrote in a condolence book:

"So sorry that people did this to a young and honest hardworking gentleman."

"You damn animals, there was no reason to rush in like a herd of cattle and kill an innocent young man."

On Monday, a coroner ruled Damour died of suffocation. On Wednesday, his family filed a wrongful-death lawsuit against Wal-Mart.

By Thursday, life at the store had mostly returned to normal.

Pop Pop came outside for a cigarette break, standing steps from where it happened.

"To me, that boy got killed over $100, for a TV," he said.