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Cho popped a pill from a drugstore-issue prescription medicine bottle, pulled on clothes and a stocking cap and prepared for a short trek across campus where, around 7:15, he planned to ignite a horror with his trigger finger.

On his way out of Room 2121, the place he'd called home for nine months, Mr.

Cho went unseen by his roommates.

The five of them wouldn't see him again for two days, until his pinched, glaring face would spew a ferocious, posthumous rant via their television, to be repeated on millions more across the country - by then, salt in a nation's wound.

It took the person closest to Mr.

Cho by age, experience and relation five days to find the words to reach out to his victims.

But finally, on a day the country set aside to mourn the worst massacre in its modern history, Mr.

Cho's older sister confessed her family, in a way, was also felled by his gun.

"We are humbled by this darkness.

We feel hopeless, helpless and lost," despaired Sun-Kyung, in an eloquent statement showing evidence of finely honed literary skills...

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