A Year After Massacre, Family Lives 'in Darkness'

'Humbled by the Darkness'

The story of the Cho family is a familiar one in diverse, immigrant-rich Northern Virginia. Sung Tae and Hyang Im rose from a dank basement apartment in Seoul to an upper-middle-class neighborhood in Fairfax County. They labored six days a week as dry cleaners. Their hard work was rewarded when Sun Kyung was accepted to Princeton University.

Little is known of the family's life now except that the Chos still live in the two-story townhouse they bought in 1997, five years after they immigrated. Neighbors say they are rarely home and work long hours. Sun Kyung, 27, works for the State Department's Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights and Labor.

Relatives in South Korea, who used to hear from Seung Hui Cho's mother on major holidays, say they have not heard from her since the massacre, the deadliest shooting by an individual in U.S. history.

"I understand why she never called us, even once, since the incident," said Kim Yang Soon, Cho's great-aunt, who lives on the outskirts of Seoul. "It must be too shameful and painful for her to say anything now."

The night of the tragedy, the Chos packed their bags after the agent warned them that they would be the subject of intense public scrutiny. After leaving their home about midnight, the Chos moved around the Washington area, packing up every time it seemed that reporters might find them, the agent said. They turned off their cellphones to stay even more isolated from the public. In the meantime, they were answering authorities' questions about their son.

On April 18, when NBC aired the hate-filled video that Cho had mailed to the network, his parents and sister were as shocked as anyone. Two days later, the Chos made their only public comments. "We are humbled by this darkness," Sun Kyung wrote in a statement released to news organizations.

Then, silence.

Reporters who had spent days camped out at the home left, describing the townhouse as abandoned. Neighbors and others speculated that the Chos had fled permanently.

But months later, neighbors said, the family quietly returned to Centreville.

Aware of the Chos' desire for solitude, several neighbors and acquaintances said they did not try to speak to the couple or offer help.

"It was very, very obvious they didn't want to be contacted by anyone," said Jeff Ahn, president of the League of Korean Americans in Virginia, who knew Seung Hui Cho's father through his work in the dry-cleaning business.

'We Just Did Not Know'

In early August, the Chos granted an interview -- not to the media but to the panel appointed by Gov. Timothy M. Kaine (D) to investigate the tragedy.