Mourners gather at the home of Naoko Takemaru during a vigil Saturday, Dec. 9, 2023. Takemaru, a Japanese studies professor, was killed along with two other professors Wednesday by a gunman at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas.
Saturday, Dec. 9, 2023 | 10:01 p.m.
Naoko Takemaru was a professor. For Mario Reyes, she was also a neighbor. She was a friend.
Reyes, who lived next door to Takemaru in east Las Vegas, helped her out with handyman chores around her house, where she lived alone. He last saw her last week when he fixed the motor in her garage door.
“She gave me the biggest hug,” he said. “The biggest hug ever.”
He planned to stop by again, this Monday, to replace some light bulbs for her. He said he was going out of town for a few days and would see her soon.
On Wednesday, before Reyes could see his neighbor, his friend, again, Takemaru, 69, died in a shooting at UNLV, where she taught Japanese language and culture. She was one of four faculty members shot, three of them fatally, by a disgruntled Henderson man who failed to get a professor job at the university.
Reyes said Takemaru had a sense of humor. She went by the nickname Erika in the neighborhood because that was her cat's name, and it was easier for some people to pronounce.
Reyes helped organize a vigil Saturday night on Takemaru's driveway. About 100 people filled the cul de sac.
Former students Lowell Chiong and Steven Gonabe both credited Takemaru for their career successes working in Japan after graduating with a Japanese studies minor.
Naoko Takemaru
Chiong worked as a translator and interpreter in Sendai in Miyagi prefecture. Gonabe taught English through an exchange program. He later worked at a hotel in Kyoto. Both lived abroad for several years.
Chiong said she ensured her students understood the formalities and nuances of the language. He said he never would have gotten past his job interview without her teachings.
Chiong said he didn't stay in touch with his sensei, “but she never left my mind since the last day of class” in 2014.
Gonabe said he used her lessons every day when using honorific terms of address with hotel guests.
“She really pushed the students,” Gonabe said. “If you had a passion for it, she would guide you.”
She was exacting as an instructor and warm as a person. She almost exclusively spoke to her students in Japanese, but when Gonabe had a difficult family issue, he said she gently switched to English and told him “my door is always open. You can always talk to me.”
Kayla Cornwell connected with Takemaru over their shared affection for felines. Cornwell had Takemaru for advanced Japanese this semester.
Class had just dismissed 15 minutes before the shooting.
The class was small, only seven students. She said Takemaru asked her students about their interests so they could have meaningful conversations.
“I want people to remember the compassion she had for each and every person,” Cornwell said. “She treated each and every person with a level of care.”
Against the garage door that her neighbor had just repaired for her stood tables that became altars. A heart-shaped ring of candles also flickered on her porch.
Many mourners bowed, a respectful sign of greeting, farewell and gratitude in Japan, upon leaving the altars. One young woman did so with a plush cat in the crook of her arm.
The altars were filled with flowers, candles and notes written in English and Japanese. One bouquet was from the honorary consul for Japan in Nevada. There was an origami cat.
And there was an envelope.
It was addressed to “a professor, a mentor, a friend.”
