In the aftermath of Kathleen Roskot's murder, students are both mourning and fearful. Conversations on street corners at Columbia University over the weekend whispered what tabloids on newsstands screamed: tragedy. Mild weather presided over an eerily quiet and unusually empty Morningside Heights campus. At Columbia University's West End, jubilant jazz played to a sober and mainly silent scattering of lunching customers. Broadway, usually the central artery of off-campus movement and activity, hosted fewer cars and students than usual. With the exception of a couple of frisbee players, South Field was as still as a photograph. Even John Jay Dining Hall was quieter than usual. Under this apparent calmness, however, students struggled together to make sense of Saturday's events and the many conflicting reports moving across phone lines, streets and airwaves. "There were lots of rumors flying around campus, but I didn't really know what was going on," said one Columbia student, who asked not to be identified. "The more specific stories I hear, the more it really brings into reality that we're not safe." The immediacy and brutality of Kathleen Roskot's murder, combined with the fact that her apparent killer, Thomas Nelford, was signed in to Roskot's dorm according to University procedure, left many students with a sense of insecurity. "What are they going to do, put two or three more cops outside?" Columbia freshman Sabine Bejori asked. "We're going to be at risk either way, and we just have to watch out for ourselves." Other students said they still felt safe. "I don't really think that it was anything that couldn't have happened at any other school," Columbia sophomore Chris Fidyk said. "If it's something between a boyfriend and a girlfriend, that can happen anywhere?. I don't think it reflects a campus security problem at all." Columbia senior Shant Barsoumian, a resident adviser in McBain Hall, said that students were holding up well in the wake of the tragedy. "I think for the most part, people are dealing with it fairly well," Barsoumian said. "Part of it was due to the school reacting quickly to the event." Yet Columbia junior David Matteini, resident advisor on the fourth floor of Wien Hall, witnessed a more emotional reaction from his residents. "My residents felt shock and, after the shock, grief. Some of my residents knew the girl," he said. Sarah Littman, a Columbia freshman, called her mother as soon as she learned of the tragedy. "I didn't know if it was going to make the national news, and I wanted my mom to hear from me first. I knew people would be calling her and asking if I was okay," she said. According to Littman, the event did not make the news in her hometown of Troy, Mich. On Saturday night, many students stayed close to home, gathering in floor lounges and rooms to discuss the events of the weekend and wait for further details. More and more facts reached students over the course of the evening, via rumor, news coverage and phone messages from deans and resident advisors. "I put on New York One and saw the story," Columbia freshman Josh Salzman said. "I've lived in New York my whole life, and so I guess I have a jaded New Yorker's perspective on this; but still, it hit close to home in that it happened right next door." "I was celebrating the Chinese New Year, and I got back to campus and saw cops downstairs. I thought it might be a rumor," Vincent Leung, a Columbia freshman, said. "I had never experienced a death like this before." Leung, who lives on the ninth floor of John Jay, said that he spent the night with his floormates in their lounge. "This is really going to change things for everyone. People were even talking about transferring because of this," he said. Several fraternity-sponsored events slated to take place on Saturday night were cancelled in the wake of the news. Pi Kappa Alpha was planning to host friends at their house on 114th Street, but, according to fraternity member Trevor Kirkbride, a Columbia junior, the event was cancelled "out of respect. It was the wrong time," he said. Psi Upsilon also cancelled plans to host students at their house. "It just wouldn't have been in good taste," said a fraternity member, who asked that his name be withheld. "Everybody at the house was in shock." Beta Theta Pi, which once claimed Nelford as a temporary resident, was a third fraternity to cancel party plans on Saturday night. But while much of Morningside Heights remained deserted, hundreds of students of all faiths filed into St. Paul's Chapel Sunday afternoon to celebrate a Catholic mass in Roskot's memory. As the service let out, St. Paul's was powerfully quiet, with only the sounds of weeping Columbians to be heard. Outside, hundreds of people gathered, talking, crying and hugging in the twilight.
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