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As a young boy returning home from school in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, Daraboth “Bot” Rith was often greeted by his Yeay, or grandmother in Khmer. Her name was Chhea, and when school was challenging or he wasn’t feeling well, she would comfort him by preparing his favorite meal — nom banh chok, a traditional Cambodian rice noodle dish. 

This simple act of care would give him the confidence to overcome the difficulties he faced at school.

“She raised me. She taught me to study hard. Work hard. And, she fed me good food,” Bot joked. “Every time I got out of school, she had food on the table. She really took care of me.”

After her passing in 2017, Bot kept a picture of his Yeay with him wherever he moved. On Dec. 6, 2023, the picture was in his office in Beam Hall, still in an unpacked box. 

On that tragic day on the fifth floor of Beam Hall, Bot encountered a man, taller than him, wearing a black trench coat and dressed like a professor. “When he saw me, he pulled something out of his black coat. I thought it was a notebook or something,” Bot said.

It was a gun and the man, whom Bot had never seen before, shot him 10 times. 

The bullets tore through his left arm, with five of them entering his torso. Blood soaked his shirt. “I knew immediately this is real. This is life threatening. I knew I needed to run as much as I can. I could hear some gunshots behind my back. I pushed through the exit door and took the stairwell from the top floor all the way down. 

“And, I was praying to my grandmother, my late grandmother. … I prayed, ‘Please get me out of here! Please keep me safe from this monster.’” 

His voice cracked as he explained, “I prayed to stay alive to see Abbie. To see my daughter again.”

Bot ran down four flights of stairs and escaped to the east side of Beam Hall. Outside, he happened upon Jake Noriega and his partner Ty Vesperas, both 51�Թ������App Metro police officers. Bot recalled telling Noriega that he couldn’t breathe. “He was trying to close the wounds. I began to lose my sight at that moment. I had an image of my daughter, and I thought that it could be my last one.”

The two officers, who had just arrived at the main entrance to the building, acted quickly, moving Bot into their police cruiser. Noriega provided medical care as Vesperas drove to an awaiting ambulance. 

 “Without them,” Bot said, “I could be gone. I feel that I owe gratitude, immense gratitude, for the service they do to save people’s lives.”

Oceans Away

Bot and his wife, Dimanche Pharath Rith, now a business manager with 51�Թ������ܿƴ� Online Education, began sharing their story with the 51�Թ������ܿƴ� family in September. The couple had met in high school in Cambodia and began a long-distance relationship a couple years after Dimanche’s family moved to Australia, and her with them. 

When an opportunity arose for Bot to attend Southern New Hampshire University in the U.S., he jumped at the chance. When he wasn’t studying, he was trying to convince Dimanche to join him. 

In the United States, there were so many opportunities, he would say. She could achieve her educational goals alongside him.

After earning his undergraduate degree and working at a bank in Boston, Dimanche joined her high school sweetheart and attended the University of Massachusetts, Boston. They were married, and 10 months later, they welcomed their daughter, Abbie. 

Both of them went on to pursue graduate degrees at Suffolk University. As Bot was finishing his Ph.D. work and looking for a professorship, Dimanche and Abbie returned to Australia to be close to her family. He was offered a job as a visiting professor at 51�Թ������ܿƴ� by then economics chair Jeff Waddoups.

On Jan. 17, 2023, his first day at 51�Թ������ܿƴ�, Bot stopped outside Beam Hall to take a selfie. “Teaching economics is more than a job,” he said. “It’s the way to change lives. That I can show off the beauty of economics,” he says, sometimes halting to gather his words. “For me, teaching is more than a dream come true.”

Bot had been at 51�Թ������ܿƴ� less than a year when the tragedy happened. He was beginning to pursue his research goals and networking with colleagues. He was also in a new city. He missed his wife and daughter and his friends in Boston and Cambodia. 

It was a Friday afternoon in Australia (Thursday in Nevada) and Dimanche was working from home when she received a call from a friend in Boston about the shooting at 51�Թ������ܿƴ�. As Bot was undergoing extensive and multiple surgeries, she didn’t know how to find out what was happening to her husband. 

“I just knew there was a shooting at 51�Թ������ܿƴ� and Bot was one of the victims and, at the time, no one knew if he was OK,” Dimanche said.

As a social worker at Sunrise Hospital connected her with Bot’s doctors for medical updates, 51�Թ������ܿƴ� helped orchestrate an emergency journey to 51�Թ������App for Dimanche and Abbie. Provost Chris Heavey and his chief of staff, Tondra De, would play a huge role in helping the family recover together, Dimanche said. They helped set up living arrangements and encouraged her to apply for a job with 51�Թ������ܿƴ�. The university also arranged for Bot’s parents to be with him as he recovered in the hospital.

“All this heartfelt support — each phone call from family and friends — served as a lifeline,” she said. “It helped knowing that there were so many people out there trying to help our family.”

‘A journey of strength’

Early on in his recovery, Bot’s spirits were lifted by the many cards and notes he received. 

“And all the words from anyone — from my family, from my colleagues, from my students, from friends — they are very meaningful to me,” Bot said, gesturing to the stack of cards he spread out on a table.

Colleagues like professor Ian McDonough would visit him, and some snuck food into the hospital, Bot remembered. “They would offer: Is there something that I really wanted to eat? I could only eat a little, but they brought in some delicious food.”

Bot’s goal has been to get back to who he was on Dec. 5, 2023. He remembers telling his physicians: “I want to stand up and be able to walk again. I want to be the person I used to be.” 

He was in a medically induced coma for about two weeks following the shooting. As he regained consciousness, sedation left him confused, and he would mix reality with dreams. He had compression boots on his legs to prevent blood clots. When they would inflate, he thought someone — someone who shouldn’t be there — was dragging him by his legs. 

The lights in the room would bother him, too; they seemed so bright. “I was so angry that someone kept turning an overhead projector on — like in school — and shining it at me. I couldn’t understand why they would do that to me.”

Physical therapy was a slow and deliberate process. With both fear and uncertainty to work through, Bot requested that the university continue to keep his identity private. 

First he had to learn how to sit up. Then it was standing up. Then it was climbing a step. He described doing the most rudimentary movements: “I would feel so fatigued.” 

But Dimanche saw something else. “I witnessed a remarkable journey of strength, resilience, and hope,” she said. 

Bot's Buddhist upbringing and the teachings of his Yeay played an important role. Buddhists believe in the importance of finding joy despite life’s suffering. Bot recalled a lot of physical pain, especially at night. “I kept crying. I would call (for medical staff) and ask them to stay with me,” he said. 

But he wouldn’t give up. 

“Life is precious. It’s a gift from God or Buddha, that we have a chance to experience the beauty of the world. When you’re in a down moment, as long as you keep trying, you have room to grow,” he said.

It’s a message he shares with his students, as well. “I tell them, ‘You can’t give up. You may feel overwhelmed but if you give up, then there’s no room to grow.’”

Nine months after the shooting, he slung his ever-present backpack over his shoulders and walked back onto campus. He taught an online course during the summer and is now back to teaching four in-person classes — the same number he was teaching when the shooting occurred.

“From day to day, I keep progressing to be a better person. I think less about what happened and focus on what’s more important, especially my family and my teaching and my research.

“The person I am now, I am not just a survivor,” he added. “I am someone who has been profoundly transformed by a tragic experience. But, I am back, ready to embrace my role as a professor with renewed passion and enthusiasm. 

“This is my calling, my way of positively impacting lives and elevating our shared humanity.”

At Home in Nevada

Reserved and pensive, Dimanche considered everything they’ve been through. Before the shooting, the couple was uncertain of when they might live in the same place again. Dimanche had hoped Bot would join her in Australia.

“Being back together like we are now — it is like fate. Like we are meant to be together,” she said.

The family has settled into life in 51�Թ������App. Abbie is now in a magnet program at a local middle school, and the family recently bought a home.

In September, they invited Buddhist monks to their new home for a blessing. “They blessed it so it would be a place to live with happiness,” he explained. “Every time we come home, it is a living space that brings us joy, it brings us smiles, and it brings us all happiness.”

Bot still has dreams filled with anxiety and fear that he attributes to what happened to him on Dec. 6. In those dreams he’s running. He’s being chased by dogs. 

But, he also has dreams of his Yeay and a warm bowl of nom banh chok waiting for him. That dream reminds him of the hope he still feels for the future. And if his mood ever dips, he looks at the photograph with his Yeay, now unpacked and displayed on a shelf in his office. 

On Sept. 10, Bot and his wife made their first public appearance at a campuswide meeting to kickoff the new academic year.

It was an emotional appearance for many in attendance, as it was the first time he was officially acknowledged as “Professor Bot Rith,” rather than “the fourth victim.” 

Bot told the audience of 500 or so colleagues that there’s always a path forward, even in the most trying of circumstances. 

“We are here to lift each other up, to support and care for one another … Let us seek peace. For it is only through peace that we can reveal and create a better world for us all. 

“Thank you for your unwavering support, your kindness, and for being a part of this journey with me. We are the 51�Թ������ܿƴ� family.”