An American flag rose over an outdoor stage in South Salt Lake as the dusk faded on July 3. Cartoon Wah, holding his youngest child in his arms, pointed to it as his wife, Pearlly Wa, stood and covered her heart with her right hand.
    Neil Diamond's "America," a song with lyrics like "Freedom's light burning warm," pumped out of the speakers. Pearlly Wa laughed delightedly as fireworks shattered above, her face shining red in their glow.
    It was a joyful night for the refugees from Burma, as they slowly recover from their first year in America. From the start, it had been riddled with problems, turning tragic with the murder of their young daughter.
    Shortly after their arrival in Utah in August last year, they were hungry and couldn't find their resettlement caseworker. Today, they laugh remembering the man - who they called Mr. Tomorrow, because he never seemed to follow through on his promises.
    "We didn't know how long it would be for Mr. Tomorrow to bring us [things] right now," Cartoon Wah said.
    Within weeks, the family met Carrie Pender, a refugee specialist for the Granite School District, who had stopped by their apartment to help enroll their children. They soon asked her for help getting food - they told her they did not have food stamps yet. She bought them groceries.
    She also took them to the Department of Motor Vehicles to help them get Utah identification cards, needed to open a bank account. No one had ever connected their phone, another task Pender took on.
    As the temperatures dropped, the family grew cold at night. It was an LDS service missionary assigned to their family, Paul Van Dyke, who brought them blankets and winter coats.
    It was also Van Dyke who found jobs for Cartoon Wah and two of his sons at Deseret Industries, and helped them sign up for English classes.
    "I think [resettlement agencies] . . . they do the best they can," Van Dyke said. "What we've found is that usually [refugees] could go for weeks before their caseworker can get back to them."
    But just as their lives began to improve, the family was devastated by the death of their daughter Hser Ner Moo this spring. The 7-year-old was murdered, allegedly by another refugee, steps away from their home at the South Parc apartment complex in South Salt Lake.
    Her death created an outpouring of financial support for the family, help that has belatedly appeared for other refugees once tragedy strikes.
    Cartoon Wah was initially reluctant to accept the donations, despite his low $7.83-an-hour wage. The family saw it as blood money and sent hundreds of dollars back to their pastor at a refugee camp in Thailand.
    Soon after Hser Ner Moo's funeral, Pender helped them find a larger rental house in Sugarhouse, where the girl's picture seems to hang on almost every wall. In this new phase of life, the family's second youngest child, Sunday Moo, 10, has looked for a new companion in his seven-month old brother.
    "He lost his friend," Pearlly Wa explained. "Before, they used to play all the time together," Cartoon Wah added.
    Their South Salt Lake apartment was convenient for work, comfortable, and not too expensive. But their new house is quieter. A breeze blows through the windows, and they are away from sad memories.
    Sometimes their minds wander to what Hser Ner Moo, who would have turned 8 this summer, would have become. But Cartoon Wah says he refuses to dwell on her death. Instead, he recalls how it sparked a movement to create a center for English classes and other services at South Parc.
    In the first few days after the Hser Ner Moo center opened this summer, people spilled out the door.
    The little girl's name has a meaning in their language: a life that won't die.
    "Her name will never leave," Cartoon Wah said. "It will always be there helping other people."
   jlyon@sltrib.com