The lone survivor of the Palm Sunday massacre in 1984, an infant then, still has unanswered questions these many years later as the 40th anniversary approaches Sunday.
Christina Rivera, 41, told the Daily News the biggest question on her mind is why did the killer, Christopher Thomas, leave her alive even as he fatally shot six children, two teens and two women in Brooklyn on that horrible day, April 15,1984. The dead included her mother and two brothers.
“I want to think there was something in him that had a kernel of humanity and it was an act of compassion or hesitation instead of him thinking ‘She’s not going to make it anyway’ or that he overlooked me,” Rivera told The News Friday.
“Was it an act of mercy or was it an oversight? I picture a small child alone for a very long time after everyone was killed, no one responding to her, and what was that like. I was probably very afraid and probably not able to understand why no one was coming.”
Rivera plans Sunday to go with her adopted mom, retired NYPD chief Joanne Jaffe, to the Brooklyn cemetery where her mother Carmen Perez, who was 20 when she was killed, and siblings Noel and Alberto, both were 3, are buried.
Jaffe, then assigned to the 75th Precinct, was one of the first arriving officers at the gruesome scene at 1080 Liberty Ave. in East New York.
Thomas was high on cocaine when he waded into the apartment in the nondescript two story building and fired 19 times with two different guns. The dead ranged in age from three to 24.
Arrested a month later, Thomas was convicted of 10 counts of manslaughter in 1985, with the jury taking his cocaine use and mental state into account in their deliberations. He was sentenced to 25 to 50 years in prison, state prison records show.
In January, 2018, after 32 years in prison, Thomas, now 74, maxed out on his sentence and was released, state prison records show. He remains under parole supervision.
The grayish building where the murders took place now houses a travel agency between a sneaker shop and a beauty salon.
Jaffe and Rivera shared pictures with The News of themselves hanging out on a couch and on a sunny city rooftop with skyscrapers behind them. But behind the smiles, they each in their own way to navigate the grim past.
Rivera has regular therapy to cope with post traumatic stress disorder that at times has been a struggle, especially a feeling of what she calls “emptiness.” She has no memory of her mother or brothers since she was so young when they were killed.
“This time of year is always challenging, but I’ve done a lot of work and I’m able to process things better,” she said. “Though the world goes on, for people who experience tragedy, they don’t necessarily move on. What happened is no less significant or painful with the passing of time.”
It can be a roller coaster, Rivera says. “Grief is something that changes and evolves,” she said. “It’s understandably intense around anniversaries, but it can come up randomly.”
Rivera was raised mainly by her grandmother but Jaffe was a constant figure in her upbringing from the age of 12. Rivera came to think of her as her mom. In 2013, the adoption was formalized, they said.
“My earliest memory of her is when she came over and I was five or six and I remember being excited to have someone to play with,” Rivera said.
Jaffe said one of the hardest things for her is that it is difficult to celebrate the formal adoption because it is so intertwined with Rivera’s loss. “This makes me cry even as I say it. It’s such a beautiful thing, but what are we celebrating? How do you have a party?” Jaffe said.
Rivera has worked in security for a state agency for the past 16 years, and lives in the city. She often writes in her journal. She was an auxiliary police officer for roughly two years, a job that made her feel close to Jaffe.
“I am looking more to get involved in volunteering,” Rivera said. “I’m looking at groups that advocate for gun safety and survivors of similar tragedies.”
With Thomas out of prison, despite his age, Rivera admits to some unease. She also believes offenders who commit horrible crimes should not be allowed back on the street no matter their age or length of their prison term.
“When you take someone away violently, there’s no end point for the people who survive,” she said. “Someone who is released even after 40 years in prison, they get to reunite with family and have the joy of living.”
The bond between Rivera and Jaffe forged in the worst of crises remains strong, they said.
“Our relationship has evolved in so many ways, good ways. We disagree but always come back around to each other,” said Jaffe, who retired in 2018 as the NYPD’s highest ranking female chief.
Says Rivera , “Even though our relationship is complicated, she has made such an impact. We grow together. I know that I am never going to be alone.”
