1 year later: The people we lost to COVID-19 in Nevada

The Scully family was among those caught in its path.

On March 15, 2020, just days after the novel coronavirus had been declared a global pandemic, Daniel Scully died alone in a Las Vegas hospital, marking the first COVID death in Nevada. He was 69.

“Nevada’s first,” his cousin, Robert, said at the time. “Lucky us.”

Weeks later, the man’s ashes would travel hundreds of miles by mail to his family in Chicago. When they arrived, his 96-year-old mother had just one request.

“Bury Danny with me,” instructed Ida Scully.

Her two surviving children agreed, though they believed she would be around for many more years.

But in a heartbreaking turn of events, less than two months after the family lost Daniel Scully to COVID, the same disease would claim the family matriarch.

Today, the mother and son are at rest, together, in the same plot in a Chicago cemetery. Ida Scully’s wish was granted.

“It’s still so hard to believe they’re both gone, but it is comforting to think of them going together,” Cissy Greenspan said in May at the graveside service for her mother and brother. “While friends are feeling sorry for our double loss, I’d rather feel gratitude that we have those family ties for my 64 years. I had a wonderful big brother and the best mother ever.”

When her brother died, Greenspan, 64, like most of the country, thought life would return to normal by May or June. And then, when it was safe to do so, she and her family could scatter Daniel Scully’s ashes at Wrigley Field.

At the time, she couldn’t think of a more fitting way to honor her brother, a lifelong Cubs fan.

Until their mother’s death.

It’s still so hard to believe they’re both gone, but it is comforting to think of them going together

Cissy Greenspan

Now, twice robbed of a proper goodbye, the family finds peace in knowing that Ida and Daniel Scully are together.

“You don’t really move past it,” Greenspan said of her grief. “You just learn to live with it.”

In the year since Daniel Scully’s death, more than 5,000 others have died from the virus in Nevada.

The victims came from all walks of life.

Some called Nevada home their entire lives. Many had come from other parts of the country to settle down in the Silver State. Others had immigrated from Mexico and even from as far as the Philippines.

The youngest victim was 8, and the oldest 106.

Among them were doctors, nurses, musicians and educators. A magician, a police officer and a war veteran.

Fathers and sons, mothers and daughters.

Our neighbors.

Here are some of their stories:

Victor A. Rapazzini, 83, spent the last 13 years of his life as an educator in the Clark County School District, primarily working with students with special needs.

“I couldn’t get him to retire,” said his wife, Cynthia. “He loved it.”

Antonio Zantua, 81, was raised by a family of farm workers in the Philippines. He was set to inherit land of his own one day. But he wanted more.

Zantua dreamed of becoming a doctor. He wanted to get married and have a family. He wanted to raise his children in the United States.

At the time of his death, the retired anesthesiologist had accomplished those dreams and more.

Don Chairez, 65, was a longtime Clark County attorney who mentored many young lawyers throughout his career. He spent a lot of his free time studying cross-examination techniques and was well-versed in political history and strategic thinking.

His influence in Nevada stretches back decades, and his experience included immigration law, defense work and time as a prosecutor and judge.

Clark County District Attorney Steve Wolfson, who had known Chairez for 30 years, said he will be remembered for his warm smile and compassion.

Howard Berman, 66, was a casino dealer and blues aficionado. He played the drums, harmonica and piano, often performing at jam sessions around the valley and in Northern Nevada.

“He was well loved in the blues community,” said his best friend, Diana Andriola.

Maria Urrabazo, 79, immigrated to the United States when she was 8. Early one morning, she would tell her children throughout the years, she climbed into a small boat with her mom and two young brothers.

Dawn would soon give way to a new day, and just across the Rio Grande River was the land of opportunity.

Though she was unable to complete the naturalization process to become an American citizen before her death, her children said the family’s matriarch achieved the American dream all the same in the seven decades she called this country home.

Roy Horn, 75, was best known for being half of the famed Las Vegas entertainment duo Siegfried & Roy. But those who knew him well say he will be remembered as a fighter.

When Horn died in May, Siegfried Fischbacher said, “From the moment we met, I knew Roy and I, together, would change the world. There could be no Siegfried without Roy, and no Roy without Siegfried.”

Luis A. Frias, 65, was an international dancer trained by Argentina’s legendary Santiago Ayala.

People packed stadiums to see his stylized version of malambo, the folkloric Argentine dance of gauchos. In America, Frias performed at the Superdome, Madison Square Garden and the Las Vegas Strip.

Eventually, he would settle down in Las Vegas with his wife and their two daughters.

Betty Jane Donnelly, 92, was born and raised in Michigan but in 1985 followed some of her children to Las Vegas.

Donnelly worked for many years at Ethel M Chocolate Factory, inciting a longstanding family feud against See’s Candies.

She was a staunch supporter of the Democratic Party her entire life, and, as a mother of seven, happiest when surrounded by family.

Lt. Erik Lloyd, 53, will be remembered for his impeccable work ethic and unmatched passion for his job as a police officer.

He had worked for the Metropolitan Police Department for nearly three decades, and for more than half of that time helped raise money for the families of fellow police officers hurt or killed in the line of duty.

Vincent DeJesus, 39, came from a family of health care workers, so it came as no surprise when he decided to become a nurse.

“He had a big heart,” his older brother, Neil, said. “He’s the most selfless person I know.”

DeJesus died at Sunrise Hospital and Medical Center, where he worked as a registered nurse.

Sharon Fife, 82, loved to paint, read and study the Bible. And she was a fan of big, dangly earrings, according to her husband, Gerald.

She died four days after their 60th wedding anniversary.

The two met in Gary, Indiana. It was a whirlwind romance. Within three months, they were married.

Tommy DeVito, 92, was a founding member of the Four Seasons, a rock ’n’ roll band that later served as inspiration for the “Jersey Boys” musical.

DeVito sang baritone and played lead guitar for the band, which scored No. 1 singles and hit the top of the pop charts during the 1960s with a string of catchy, radio-friendly singles.

The story of the Four Seasons was depicted in “Jersey Boys,” a Tony Award-winning musical that debuted on Broadway in 2005 and was adapted for a 2014 feature film directed by Clint Eastwood.

Felicia Campbell, 89, was the longest-serving professor at UNLV, where her work as an English professor helped legitimize the academic discipline of pop culture.

Ahead of her time, Campbell also was the first professor to teach African American and Asian literature at UNLV.

“Beloved by her countless students, she was known for her kindness and inclusivity, stimulating teaching style and exacting academic standards,” said Jennifer Keene, dean of UNLV’s College of Liberal Arts.

Frank Cullotta, 81, was a former mob hit man who turned government witness.

He had a cameo role in the 1995 movie “Casino” and, later in life, was a tour guide for The Mob Museum in downtown Las Vegas.

“He was a killer who turned out to be a law-abiding citizen,” said retired Las Vegas police officer David Groover. “He was a witty, highly intelligent person with a lot of charisma.”

Contact Rio Lacanlale at rlacanlale@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0381. Follow @riolacanlale on Twitter.