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Dallas residents emerge from Ebola monitoring, greeted by confusion

Dallas school, healthcare and political leaders take part in a news conference on Monday.
(Chip Somodevilla / Getty Images)
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Monday was supposed to mark the end of 21 days of anxious Ebola monitoring for Youngor Jallah’s family of six, when they could emerge from their stuffy two-bedroom apartment and return to comfortable routines.

They had been exposed to Jallah’s mother’s fiance, Thomas Eric Duncan, 42, who came to the U.S. from Liberia on Sept. 20, became ill within days and died Oct. 8. But none of them developed symptoms. They had each received letters from the county public health department clearing them to attend work and school.

But Jallah, 35, did not know officials had announced that all eight children in the Dallas area who had been monitored would return to school Tuesday, not Monday. No one from the school district had contacted her.

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So the Liberian immigrant sent her 11-year-old off on foot and put the 4-year-old on a bus to prekindergarten. A cousin left for class at nearby Conrad High School. It wasn’t until her 6-year-old daughter, Rose, was headed to the bus stop that they noticed the television cameras.

Rose, a skinny sprite with a shy smile and long braids, panicked.

“She said she was scared, she don’t want to go on the bus, so her daddy had to take her,” Jallah said.

All four children stayed at school. They were among 43 people exposed to Duncan whom officials declared Ebola-free on Monday but who remain stigmatized by the deadly virus.

Their chaotic emergence from monitoring does not bode well for 125 others in Texas who are still being monitored for symptoms, many for weeks yet. The last is not expected to be cleared until Nov. 7.

Dallas officials and staff from the hospital where Duncan was treated attempted to shore up public confidence Monday.

School officials said they had been meeting with parents and students at the schools where monitored students will be returning, and that they were prepared. Added security will be provided and extra nurses will be available to answer questions, Supt. Mike Miles said.

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“We want them to feel like normal students,” he said.

Just before school let out, dozens of nurses filed out of Texas Health Presbyterian Hospital in east Dallas and several spoke, acknowledging that “some things went wrong” with Duncan’s treatment but also insisting that they did all they could for him, that authorities were investigating and that his caregivers should not be judged unfairly.

They said they were coping with the Ebola diagnosis of two of their own: nurses Nina Pham, 26, and Amber Vinson, 29, both of whom have been transferred to out-of-state hospitals with experience treating Ebola.

“We know we need to reaffirm the public’s trust in us,” said Cole Edmonson, the hospital’s chief nursing officer. “Our hospital is safe.”

The nurses feel for Duncan’s family, Edmonson said. “His loss was a loss for us too.”

Duncan’s fiancee, Louise Troh, 54, emerged Monday from her court-ordered confinement at a four-bedroom home on a gated property volunteered by the Roman Catholic Diocese of Dallas. She and her 13-year-old son were supposed to meet with her daughter and youngest grandchild, Prophet, 2.

Jallah dressed the boy in his “Master of Disaster” T-shirt and shorts, put on her red heels and made it as far as the apartment parking lot, where she encountered television cameras.

She doesn’t want her children to be filmed or photographed, fearing it will make them pariahs. Once news broke that her family was being monitored, neighbors ran away. And now that the 21 days have elapsed, they still do.

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“My kids have a long life to live in America,” Jallah said, and if they appear on television, “I don’t think people will feel comfortable in my home.”

Jallah and her husband, Aaron Yah, 43, work at nursing homes. He had hoped to return to work Monday. The county health department letter confirmed he was safe. But his employer requested another form, which a public health department staffer came to pick up — the same staffer who had been checking on them for 21 days.

Jallah sat on the couch and flicked on the news. A reporter was saying the station had just learned that several children who had been monitored were back in school.

“We just learned,” Jallah said, chuckling ruefully.

She hopes parents at her children’s schools heed officials from the county and the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, who say her children pose no threat.

Another headline flashed across the screen: “Officials: No need to close schools.”

Jallah sighed.

“I’m very, very tired,” she said, sitting back and closing her eyes as her 2-year-old stared, wide-eyed and silent.

The rest of her children returned home from school, one by one.

Joe Joe, 11, had a good day. So did 4-year-old King. Even Rose seemed to have recovered from the morning, building a giraffe out of Lego blocks. On the bus, she reported, her friends had announced that she did not have Ebola.

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Troh arrived afterward along with her son, the two men who had been confined with them and other relatives. She had spent the day searching fruitlessly for a new apartment in the neighborhood. Her belongings had been burned as part of the decontamination.

She was tired. She would tell her story, in good time. For now, she wanted a home-cooked meal of okra stew with her grandchildren. Her daughter left for the store to buy ingredients.

They would have to trust that the schools would be better prepared Tuesday, when Troh’s son, Timothy Wayne, plans to return to class.

molly.hennessy-fiske@latimes.com

Twitter: @mollyhf

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