"Excuse me.  May I use your phone?  I think my house is on fire."
It was about 7 o'clock on the morning of April 2nd, 2003.  The polite little girl had first woke her mother and then run to the neighbor's house to call 911.  The smoke alarm had scared Robyn but not as much as the smoke creeping up the basement stairway into the kitchen.  And yet she kept her wits and did everything right, thereby saving her family from death by fire or asphyxiation. 
"When I woke up I went downstairs to get dressed," she said.  "Then I came back up to get lunch money and I heard a loud noise.  I didn't know it was the smoke alarm.  I went into the shop to see if it was the TV, and then I saw smoke coming up the basement stairs.  I went to wake up my mom, and she told me to get my brother and go next door to call 911."
In a few weeks Robyn Sellman would have a sleepover party for her 11th birth-day, but little did she know that the cele-bration on April 26th would not be in the family home on 78th Street in Victoria.  Her girlfriends would not play in her bedroom with her large collection of Beanie Babies.  The popular stuffed animals would be charred and burnt beyond recognition.
Robyn's bedroom would, in fact, be gutted, as with every other room in the house.  Baseboards would be ripped off to reveal that flames were easily finding their way into the upstairs living quarters.  Fire or smoke had demolished everything in the basement level, including Jordan's bedroom.  Jordan, Robyn's big sister, was the only family member away from home that morning.  If Jordan had not already caught the 6:40 a.m. bus to school, she probably would not be alive today.  The two cats, who had been sleeping in Jordan's room, died.
The fire poked its way through floor boards and walls and pushed through every possible opening into upstairs plumbing fixtures and kitchen appliances.  It broke its way through electrical outlets and vents and light fixtures.   The intense heat and smoke wrinkled plaster and paint.  It melted carpets and linoleum.  It is not a pretty sight.
Very little was salvageable.  Huge dumpsters have been filled many times with ruined household and personal belongings.  Every kitchen and bathroom appliance is beyond repair.  Most personals are damaged or destroyed.

Robyn's parents are Jim, 38, and Audra, 36.  Sister Jordan is 13 and little brother Jake is 4.  Jim works in electronics and does calibration of electronic equipment in Blaine.  Audra is a cosmetologist.  They purchased the home on 78th Street just over three years ago, but the family has resided in Victoria almost 12 years.  They are now living in a two-bedroom apartment in Victoria while damage to their home is being assessed.  It happens to be the same apartment they moved from three years ago, so there is familiarity.  It will probably be four to six months before they can move back to 78th Street.
"This way our children get to stay in the same school district," added Audra.  At this time it is not known whether the insurance company will try to rebuild the home or start from scratch with a new one.

It was a typical weekday morning at the Sellman home that Wednesday, April
2nd.  Audra had been briefly roused awake by the family dog who visits her each morning after  Jordan goes off to school.  The second waking this particular day wasn't pleasant, however, when Robyn was screaming about the smoke alarm.
  "I told Robyn to get her brother," said Audra, "and then I woke up my husband.  We both sleep so soundly.  I went outside to see if my kids were all right and then I couldn't get back into my house.  The living room was filled with very black smoke and it burnt my eyes."
Jim was concerned about the pets that slept in the basement.  "I went down about three or four steps and that's all the further I could go," he said.  "The smoke was so bad.  I wanted to get the cats out.  They didn't make it.  The fire department found them.  They didn't burn.  They were asphyxiated."
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