"The House Is on Fire"
Anatomy of a Palolo tragedy

Ian Lind

Honolulu Weekly, February 19, 2002


"The house is on fire!²

When shouted warnings awoke Palolo residents Ulutunu and Elaine Faumuina shortly after midnight on Oct. 15, 1997, there was no clue they were confronting what would later be known as Honolulu¹s deadliest fire on record.

Flames engulfed the Faumuina home within a few terrifying minutes, taking the lives of Mr. Faumuina, the couple¹s youngest son, Kalani, and a married daughter, Ramona Asuao, along with her husband, Ailatupu, and the young couple¹s three children. Only Mrs. Faumuina and another son, Ulutunu Jr., escaped alive.

The haunting question is whether their fate was a matter of circumstance and bad luck, or the result of a sequence of avoidable human errors.

That is now the central issue in a lawsuit brought on behalf of the survivors and the estates of those who died in the blaze. Attorneys for Mrs. Faumuina and other plaintiffs say the seven victims might have been spared if things had been slightly different — if smoke detectors had been installed, if a fire hydrant hadn¹t failed at a critical time, and if firefighters hadn¹t been delayed in reaching the scene.

Defendants named in the suit, originally filed in September 1999, are the family¹s landlord, Ted C.T. Li, and his wife, Patricia; the Honolulu Fire Department; the Board of Water Supply, which maintains and services Honolulu¹s system of 18,000 hydrants; and McWane Inc., owner of Clow Valve Corp., maker of hydrant number 5924 on Palolo Avenue.

Attorneys for the various defendants say the tragedy was a tragic, fatal demonstration of the fact that surviving a fire in one of Honolulu¹s thousands of older, single-wall wood homes is literally a matter of seconds and of the fact that the fate of the victims was sealed before firefighters could reach the scene.

Attempts to dismiss the case or reach a settlement have failed, and a jury will apparently have to sort out the factual issues and determine who, if anyone, should be held responsible for the seven deaths. The trial is expected to begin in late summer and last for several months.

Sorting out the facts won¹t be simple, and there are already indications the trial will be complicated by simmering resentments and prejudices, including those between rich and poor, landlords and tenants, Asians and Samoans.

Attorneys for the plaintiffs are already characterizing Ted Li as a rich Vietnamese landlord with eight rental units, an oceanfront ³mansion², and a thriving business but little regard for the safety of his tenants, a tactic which angers Jeff Portnoy, one of Li¹s attorneys.

³I¹ve told the judge I found this outrageous,² Portnoy said. ³We¹ve interviewed 50 tenants [since the case was filed], and 45 said he was a great landlord. Making it out that this was a slum is absolutely wrong.

³I hope the jury will see through it, but there¹s unfortunately a lot of that out there,² Portnoy said.

But underlying these issues is an intimate and frightening tale, as recounted in 13 thick volumes of legal documents filed in court so far, including official police and fire reports, depositions and investigative interviews. Together they provide an unusually detailed inside look at the relentless and unforgiving nature of fire.

Attorneys for the defendants say there is evidence showing smoke alarms had been in the house at one time, but were not legally required. And, they say, the fire started through the negligence of the Faumuina family, and the fast-moving fire claimed its victims before the first fire truck could reach the scene.

Prologue

The Faumuina family rented the 520-square-foot house at 1816-G Palolo Ave. in November 1996, less than a year before the fire, paying $875 per month for the two-bedroom wooden home, originally built in 1963. It was one of three homes on the 15,665-square foot lot rented out by Ted Li, owner of the Crack Seed Center in Ala Moana Center.

Elaine and Ulu Faumuina had met in HawaiŒi in the late 1960s while she was attending Church College of HawaiŒi, now known as BYU-HawaiŒi. They got married and returned home to Western Samoa for several years before coming back to HawaiŒi in 1974 ³to provide a better life for their family.² They were Mormons, worked hard, raised their six children.

Li also came to HawaiŒi in 1974 in search of a better life. Li was born to a Chinese family in Hanoi, Vietnam, in 1946. The family later moved to South Vietnam, where they lived in the shadow of the country¹s long civil war. His parents twice changed his name and gave him a new identity to avoid conscription into the Vietnamese army, first shaving several years off his age and then apparently buying or inventing Chinese citizenship, Li said in a deposition.

³I don¹t want to become a soldier and kill people,² he explained.

Li, trained in Saigon as a computer programmer, went to work for a computer company, Southeast Asia Computer Associates, and gained U.S. citizenship a couple of years later. In 1976, he and his first wife purchased a condominium apartment, then rented out the condo when they bought their first Palolo house two years later. Eventually they accumulated eight rental units, court records indicate.

Li has been active in Chinese community affairs, and served a four-year term on the City Planning Commission from 1991-¹95.

Although the Faumuina¹s Palolo house wasn¹t fancy, it ³wasn¹t a dump,² a former tenant told investigators.

But it was small and it was crowded, especially since Ailatupu (called Tupu) lost his job and moved in along with Ramona (Mona) and the three kids.

To make room for his sister¹s family, Ulutunu Jr. (Ulu) and his younger brother Kalani gave up the bedroom and moved into the living room, one sleeping on the couch and the other on the floor, with Mona¹s three kids often joining them.

There was a refrigerator in the corner of the living room, along with the couch and television. The boys¹ clothing was stored in Elaine and Ulu Sr.¹s bedroom, already filled with an organ and a queen-size bed.

Elaine told fire investigators the house had no smoke alarms and, although there is some evidence to the contrary, none were found by fire investigators. But she never asked Li to have them installed, and said finances prevented her from buying and installing them herself.

Tuesday, Oct. 14, 1997, 10:30 p.m.

Ulu Jr. was watching television and waiting for his father to get home from his job as a cook at the Princess KaŒiulani Hotel so they could talk football.

Ulu, at 6 feet 1 inch and close to 300 pounds, was playing his second season as offensive tackle and defensive end for Kaimukï High School. When his father arrived about 10:30 p.m., Ulu fixed the older man a glass of water, and they sat down to talk.

³He told me that one of his friends at the hotel, his son plays for Kalaheo, the next team we¹re going to play,² Ulu said later. ³[S]o he was bragging to his friends that, ŒOh, my son is going to beat you guys,¹ and then his friends are bragging that, oh, they had a better team. ... So he said, ŒMan, you better beat these guys.¹²

The two talked for what Ulu estimated was 30 to 45 minutes, then watched television for a while longer before heading to bed.

11:30 p.m.

It was one of those humid island nights in October and hot in the house, so after his father went to bed, Ulu went downstairs to cool off.

³Downstairs² was a private hangout under the house made of several pallets and a sheet of plywood covered with a lauhala mat. Tupu had built it after he and Ramona moved in, apparently for relief from the crowded upstairs. Ulu would often go downstairs to study, read or just be alone, according to later statements. There wasn¹t enough room to stand up, but there was plenty of headroom to sit on the mat or sleep.

A 100-foot orange extension cord ran from the washer-dryer on the side of the house, under the stairs and over to the platform, then joined a short brown extension cord into which were plugged an auto repair light that dangled from a beam and an old radio/tape player.

Getting that radio to work wasn¹t always easy, Ulu told investigators later. He had to ³play with the whole radio basically and then I had to shake it ... or play with the cord, too ... sometimes I had to like just hold the wiring and if I would do it, it would just play by itself.²

There were boxes of clothes and kids toys belonging to Ramona¹s family stored under the house along with other odds and ends, including a dresser, two propane tanks and some supplies left over from the wedding of another sister, Lagi, several months earlier. Ulu Sr. cooked the food for the wedding, and the extra cooking supplies, including canisters of gas for a Coleman stove, were still under the house.

³I was going to go back up, take a shower and go to bed,² Ulu said. Instead, he fell asleep after 10 or 15 minutes.

³I had this one song stuck in my head that night,² he later said. ³This is a song about a girl singing to her boyfriend, right, and the song says that her tears will burn the pillow and set this house on fire. Well, I was listening to the song and I guess I dozed off to sleep.²

It didn¹t seem like a big thing at the time, but investigators concluded the fire began with a slow, smoldering burn caused by a short circuit in the radio.

11:50 p.m.

The closest neighbor, John Le, lived with his girlfriend in a studio apartment in the bottom of the house next door, also owned by Ted Li. He arrived home just before midnight and smelled something burning, according to statements to fire investigators. He looked around the apartment, then walked around outside the house, but couldn¹t locate the source.

Le told investigators the burning smell kept getting stronger, and he later went outside for another look, this time checking the cars parked in front of the Faumuina house. Again he found nothing and went back inside.

Wednesday, Oct. 15, 12:28 a.m.

A caller to 911 reported a possible stroke victim on Ua Drive in lower Palolo. Within minutes, Engine 33 from the Palolo Fire Station was dispatched to the scene to provide emergency care and to wait for the nearest available ambulance to arrive from Wailupe. It was to prove to be a fateful call.

Engine 33 left the Palolo station with Acting Captain William Ralston and a crew of three. Just before reaching their destination, firefighter Alika Winter, sitting just behind Ralston and facing the back of the truck, spotted the fire, which already lit up the side of the valley. He excitedly pointed it out to the others, according to their later statements.

If the Palolo fire company had been free to respond, Ralston and his crew could have been at the scene in a minute or two. But Fire Department rules required the company commander to contact the Fire Alarm Bureau and jointly decide whether they should continue to the original destination or divert to the new emergency.

As one fire official said later: ³He cannot tell them that he wants to move from going to one alarm to another alarm. He can¹t do that. He cannot say, ŒOh, I see this big fire, I¹m stopping here and that other alarm, forget it.¹ He can¹t do that.²

So Palolo¹s Engine 33 continued on to Ua Drive.

12:30 a.m.

Ulu awoke with his legs burning and a fire just a few feet away, which he described as about the size of a camp fire with flames about 3 feet high. He pulled off his lavalava and tried unsuccessfully to smother the flames.

³I was shocked,² Ulu said. ³I thought I was still dreaming. I said, ŒOh, fire,¹ then I just started swinging. Š I gave it like three swings, couldn¹t do nothing. Š I was just beating the flames.²

So he kicked open the small gate and ran up the kitchen stairs to warn the others.

John Le¹s girlfriend, Hao Le, told fire investigators they ran outside after hearing Ulu¹s shouts. She described the fire as ³the size of a good sized dining room table.²

12:34 a.m.

Ulu¹s shouts and the spreading flames now caught the attention of other neighbors. The first call to 911 was recorded just seconds after 12:34 a.m., and three others came in within the next minute. According to the fire investigation report, all these callers said the Faumuina house was already ³heavily involved² in fire.

³The house is on fire!² Ulu ran up the kitchen stairs and through the house. His first thought was for the kids, and he pounded several times on Ramona¹s bedroom door. Then he ran through the open door into his parents¹ bedroom and kicked their bed, still shouting. There was smoke in the kitchen and living room, but the air was clearer over by the bedrooms. After sounding the alarm, Ulu headed back to the kitchen door, his mother following close behind. When he opened the door, flames were already visible.

³I mean the fire was coming through, but I don¹t think the stairs was on fire,² Ulu said. With several neighbors outside yelling ³Jump, jump!² he leapt over the flames and landed on the lower stairs, a height of 5 or 6 feet, and ran in search of a garden hose.

12:36 A.M.

Palolo¹s engine 33 arrived at its destination on Ua Drive and found the potential stroke victim had regained consciousness and even answered the door himself. While his crew administered oxygen, Acting Captain Ralston reported the new fire to the Fire Alarm Bureau. He was told other units were already on their way to the fire scene, and instructed him to wait for the ambulance to arrive before joining them. Ralston began pacing the floor anxiously, already planning in his mind how to best attack the fire.

Records show Engine 5 and Ladder 5 from Kaimukï and Engine 29 from McCully pulled out of their respective stations at the same moment, 12:36 a.m.

Capt. Marshall Giddens was seated in the front of Engine 5 as it roared down WaiŒalae Avenue and made a turn up 10th Avenue.

³I could see a glow in the sky,² Giddens said. Heading mauka on 10th Avenue, ³We could see at least two structures fully involved in flames, the flames had gone through the roof and was lighting the sky.²
At approximately the same time as the engines rolled from their stations, Elaine Faumuina watched Ulu leap over the flames to the ground, then closed the door behind her and went back inside, calling out, ³Get up, get up!²
This time, Mona and Tupu came right out and headed toward the front door but quickly came back with bad news. ³Can¹t get out,² Elaine recalled her daughter saying. ³The stairs are on fire.²

With critical seconds ticking by, and with smoke beginning to fill the house, Elaine yelled for them to break the window and jump, then ran back into her own bedroom and smashed out the louvered window with her hand. She stood on the bed, climbed through the window, and fell feet first to the ground, which was already hot enough to cause first- and second-degree burns on her feet.

Ulu, after his leap down the stairs, saw John Le, and they went straight for the closest garden hose at Le¹s house, but discovered it was stuck under a parked car.

For a brief moment, they saw Ulu Sr. open the front door. The older man went down a couple of stairs, looked under the house, then went back inside. No words passed between them, and Ulu never saw his father or heard his voice again.

At that moment, Ulu recounted later, the flames didn¹t appear that big but were spreading along the underside of the house and coming out from the sides. An analysis by a California consultant, portions of which are filed in court, estimates the fire could have reached ³flashover² in as little as two minutes, at which point the whole structure would explode in flames.

Time was running out. Ulu tried one hose and then another, but there was not enough water pressure, and a third faucet was too hot to touch.

He then retreated up the stairs to the top of the retaining wall behind the house. Thick smoke was pouring out from under the house. He could see his mother beneath her bedroom window.

Elaine Faumuina said later that she could hear her husband and daughter inside yelling, ³Elaine, the children, the children,² and she was shouting back, ³Mona, break the window! Throw the kids out!²

She also retreated up the steps in the retaining wall and the hillside beyond. ³I sat there and waited ... nobody came out.²

But a second or two after his mother¹s call, Ulu heard a scream, just a single Samoan word, and glass breaking, and saw something — or someone — come out the window. He thought it had been Tupu¹s voice.

Grabbing a blanket off the clothesline between the retaining wall and the house, Ulu said he covered his head and tried to get to whatever had come through, but the heat and thick black smoke drove him back. Then, in shock and despair, he ran from the fire.

Another neighbor, Louis Perez, found Elaine crying and hysterical on the mountainside behind the house.

³I grabbed her and held her,² Perez said, worried because the fire had already spread to a third house behind them. ³We have to get out of here or we both gonna die. And she didn¹t want to leave. So I kind of like just kept talking to her. Then eventually she stood up, and we walked around.²

Three hours later, firefighters found the bodies of Tupu and his 6-year old son outside the house in the narrow space under the window. The five others were found in the house, including Ulu Sr., reportedly found in Ramona¹s bedroom, cradling one of his granddaughters.

12:40 a.m.

Engine 5 and Engine 29 arrived within seconds of each other and took positions on parallel driveways. In the first minutes, each aimed a deluge from their 500-gallon on-board tanks towards the fire.

Engine 5, which was on the driveway leading directly to the fire scene, was initially held back by a broken electric line which was swinging wildly and sparking whenever it hit the ground. More crucial minutes were lost when the valve on the nearest fire hydrant broke, preventing sufficient water from flowing and requiring the heavy fire hose to be hauled several hundred feet up Palolo Avenue to the next available hydrant.

But Capt. Giddens and other firefighters said these delays made no difference because the Faumuina¹s house was already ³flattened out² when they arrived, the house next door was completely engulfed with flames coming through the roof, and at least half the house on the other side was also in flames.

³I don¹t see how anybody could have survived that. The roof was gone. It was already down to the ground. The whole house was down.²

When Palolo¹s own Engine 33 finally arrived at 12:44 and took a position on Loke Place, above the fire, neighbors were screaming at the engine¹s crew: ³What took you so long?²

According to Ralston: ³This one guy pointed right at the truck and said, ŒYou¹re from Palolo. You guys are right over there. Where were you?¹²

Ralston later reported: ³There were no problems or delays once the plan was implemented, in fact it was a routine and timely fire stop.²

Except, of course, for the seven who died.