They built their Hindu temple together. A fatal gunshot tore them apart.

RIVERVIEW — After Alvin Chooyick fired the gun that day, his friend yelled and fell.Chooyick told detectives later that he thought Troy Phirangee was fooling around. He didn’t want to believe that the bullet from his Ruger pistol really had struck Phirangee, who was working on a roof about 100 feet away.”I said, ‘Don’t play those jokes with me,’ " Chooyick said.It was May 8, 2019, and Chooyick had just pulled up to a Riverview home he was remodeling with help from Phirangee. Chooyick told police that he was walking toward the ranch-style house, about to put the pistol in his waistband, when he tripped on a piece of scrap wood.The pistol discharged, and Phirangee, a 45-year-old married father, died at a hospital about an hour later.After the Hillsborough County Sheriff’s Office investigated, the State Attorney’s Office concluded the shooting was accidental, and there were no grounds to charge Chooyick. Now, two years later, Phirangee’s estate has filed a wrongful death lawsuit against Chooyick, the former owners of the home and the Hindu temple in Tampa that Chooyick founded. The goal, attorneys say, is to compensate Phirangee’s son Sean, who turned 16 on the day his father was killed.In the years before the shooting, Phirangee devoted countless hours to Shree Mariamman Devi Temple, where he served as assistant priest. He went there after a breakup, found new friends and met the woman he’d marry.He also became close to the man who would wind up killing him, leaving a hole in the house of worship that he helped Chooyick build.”This isn’t supposed to be this way,” Chooyick told detectives. “We were brothers for 10 years.”The day was supposed to be one for work, then celebration.Phirangee had turned 45 two days earlier and another friend had a birthday that day. Chooyick later told investigators that he and his wife stopped at the house on Riverlachen Way, a cul-de-sac just north of the Alafia River, to check on the crew’s progress and tell them they could leave early for a party.Reached by a Tampa Bay Times reporter by phone recently,, Chooyick, 45, said he wasn’t aware of the lawsuit and seemed puzzled that the temple was included as a defendant. He said what happened “had nothing to do with the temple” and declined further comment.The home was owned at the time by Pathyil and Molly Abraham. Records show they sold the house in December. Two messages left at a number listed for Pathyil Abraham were not returned.After the shooting, Chooyick, who lives with his wife and three children in Riverview, freely answered questions from deputies and detectives. His statements are included in a Sheriff’s Office report the Times obtained through a records request.Chooyick said he and Phirangee had been friends for about a decade. Chooyick founded the Shree Mariamman Devi Temple and is head priest, or pujari.Established in 2008, the nonprofit temple was first located on Mohawk Drive in Town ‘N Country. A 2013 Times story chronicled how code violation complaints began to pile up about loud drumming and worship in unpermitted buildings, among other issues. Chooyick blamed his neighbors and what he called religious persecution.Chooyick is from Guyana and practices Madasi Hinduism, originating from southern India, according to the story. He said he worships the Mariamman Kali, the goddess of rain and his temple’s namesake.Chooyick later moved the temple to a 1-acre property on Palm River Road, in the Clair-Mel City neighborhood east of the Tampa city limits. The main building is a house built in 1950.Photos posted on the temple’s Facebook pages over the years show congregants dressed in colorful garments leaving fresh fruit and other offerings at the feet of statues representing Hindu deities. Chooyick is pictured leading the congregation in prayers, beating drums and cooking papaya curry over an open flame.One post honoring Chooyick’s birthday in October called him “our guru, pujari and spiritual leader.” It described him as generous, a devoted family man and “a blessing to have in many of our lives.”“This person has given us somewhere to come and worship and sing praises to the Divine,” the post said. “This person is someone who you could call in the time of trouble or if you just needed someone to talk to. He is one of a kind.”Phirangee came to Hinduism later in life.One of three siblings born in the Caribbean nation of Trinidad and Tobago, Phirangee was raised Catholic, attending church regularly with his family, said Aruna Jhagroo-Sookoor, his former partner and the mother of his son, Sean.After high school, Phirangee moved to South Florida to pursue a career as an auto mechanic. He was working in Fort Lauderdale in the 1990s when he met Jhagroo-Sookoor’s brother. The two men became friends.“He was a carefree guy, just a good human being,” said the brother, Anil Jhagroo.Jhagroo-Sookoor found him to be funny and kind. She lived in Tampa at the time, so Phirangee moved here and started working for a commercial air-conditioning business owned by her brother. Their son born in 2003. The couple never married, but they lived together as a family in St. Petersburg until they split up about six years later.Phirangee remained a dedicated, attentive father, Jhagroo-Sookoor said. He loved taking Sean fishing at Ben T. Davis Beach and Fort De Soto Park and got him hooked on Star Wars and Transformers .“He pushed me to be the best person I could be all the time,” Sean Phirangee said. “He saw the potential I had and always taught me to do right. Anytime I had something to do, he’d always make time for me.”Jhagroo-Sookoor moved to New York in 2017, but father and son talked by phone or video chat every day.Phirangee started attending Chooyick’s temple after moving to Tampa around 2010. He stopped working weekends, so he could spend time there, helping prepare for services and improve the property, Anil Jhagroo said.“He was kind of reaching out for some kind of void to be filled, and that was one of the avenues he was trying,” Jhagroo said. “He was pretty much involved in every aspect of what was going on over there.”Phirangee met Jaswatie Mohabir there, and the two married in 2015. They lived in Riverview. In 2019, Mohabir was listed in state records as the temple’s director of operations.Mohabir told the Times she wasn’t aware of the lawsuit and declined to comment for this story. Her daughter Samanta Mohabir told the Times she felt protective of her mother when the two started seeing one another, but Phirangee grew on her.“My father died when I was 11 and my brother was 4, and Troy filled a void in our lives,” the daughter said, her voice breaking with emotion. “He was a very strong individual. He spoke his mind and always tried to do the right thing.”Mohabir, who lives in Fort Lauderdale and occasionally attended Shree Mariamman Devi Temple, said Phirangee made time for her college graduation and helped prepare for her wedding, visiting venues and working to ready her mother’s house for the festivities.She said he spent every weekend at the temple.At some point, he also agreed to help Chooyick with another project — renovating a home at 8915 Riverlachen Way.Chooyick told investigators he bought the Ruger pistol in November 2018 and got his concealed weapons permit a few months before the fatal shooting. He said he hadn’t fired the weapon since a safety course he took at the gun shop.Chooyick said he got the gun for protection during nighttime visits to a Gibsonton car lot he owned and usually kept the weapon in his car. But he told detectives he’d been receiving threats from some acquaintances in Orlando, so he made sure to keep the gun handy.“I don’t take chances,” he said.The day of the shooting, he said, he left the gun’s holster at home, because he was rushing to get out of the house. He’s right-handed but kept the Ruger on the left side of his waistband, so he could “cross draw” if he needed to pull the gun.Chooyick and his wife arrived at the house on Riverlachen Way about 1:45 p.m. Phirangee was standing at the peak of the roof, handing shingles to 24-year-old Richard Gonzalez. Gonzalez is Chooyick’s adopted son, Chooyick said.After the shot was fired, he heard Phirangee yell and saw him fall over.Gonzalez shouted that Phirangee was hurt. Chooyick ran to the ladder, climbed onto the roof and held the injured man in his lap, trying to stop the bleeding. He yelled to a neighbor to call 911.By the time a deputy arrived, Phirangee barely had a pulse.“It was an accident,” Chooyick told the officer. “I slipped and my gun went off.”The deputy saw the gun in Chooyick’s pants pocket and told him he was going to take it for safekeeping.“Take it, I do not want it anymore,” Chooyick replied.Phirangee was pronounced dead at St. Joseph’s Hospital-South. An autopsy showed the bullet struck him in the left side near his armpit and exited his right shoulder. Along the way, it perforated a lung and lacerated his jugular vein and a carotid artery.A detective asked Chooyick twice during an interview if there were any issues between him and Phirangee.“We have arguments every day at the temple like brothers do,” he said. He quickly added that he and Phirangee went to the casino on his birthday.“I took him out for dinner,” he said. “We had a good time.”Neither of the two other people on site that day saw what happened before the gun discharged.Gonzalez said he heard what sounded like a gunshot and then heard Phirangee scream and saw him fall. Chooyick’s wife Melissa, who was in the passenger seat of their truck, said she was reviewing paperwork when she heard what sounded like a nail gun. She looked up and saw her husband running toward the ladder.A neighbor who heard the gunshot saw one man, Chooyick, holding another man “in a bear hug” on the roof. Chooyick was crying and appeared distraught, the neighbor said.A detective interviewed Phirangee’s wife, who said her husband had told her that he and Chooyick had argued during the previous three years “over church duties, and Mr. Chooyick had made a statement something along the lines of ‘I’ll kill you,’ ” according to the report.But Phirangee’s widow also told police that the two men were usually quick to resolve their arguments, and she knew of no ongoing feuds.Some were skeptical of Chooyick’s account, and at least two people called detectives to say so.One was Phirangee’s friend Anil Jhagroo. He told an investigator that Phirangee was frustrated with Chooyick, but Jhagroo didn’t know of any particular threats by Chooyick.The Sheriff’s Office turned over its findings to the office of Hillsborough State Attorney Andrew Warren. On May 31, 2019, Warren sent a letter to the Sheriff’s Office saying that no criminal charges would be filed.“Although an accidental shooting like this does not constitute a crime, it’s a sober reminder of the importance of safe and responsible gun ownership,” Warren said in a statement at the time.Anil Jhagroo is the personal representative of Phirangee’s estate. His attorneys advised him and his sister not to answer questions about the shooting because of the pending case.One of the attorneys, Jeffrey “Jack” Gordon, said Chooyick failed to keep his gun secure and is legally liable for the consequences.“We have a son who’s lost his biological dad,” Gordon said. “The comfort, the companionship, the guidance, this young man has lost that. The best thing we can do is benefit him with money.”The complaint says Phirangee went to the house in the scope of his employment with the temple and “to further the purpose or interest of” the temple. The suit seeks a jury trial and unspecified damages.Samanta Mohabir said her mother tried to continue attending the temple after Phirangee’s death, but it was too difficult. They made too many memories there.“The temple is pretty much a close-knit family, and I’m pretty sure they still are, but it was hard on everybody,” Mohabir said.Kshama, or forgiveness, is considered a cardinal virtue of Hinduism. Mohabir said she isn’t there yet.“I understand it was a tragic situation, but because of the heartbreak it’s caused my family, I can’t say that I can forgive.”After his father’s death, Sean Phirangee and his mother took his ashes to the park at Ben T. Davis Beach and scattered the remains in Tampa Bay.This month, a day after what would have been his father’s 47th birthday and a day before the second anniversary of his death, Sean Phirangee returned to the park, waded into the water and, as his mother watched, placed some flowers onto the surface. They were purple, Troy Phirangee’s favorite color. They’ve decided to make the gesture a tradition.“It’s my way of feeling like he’s still here,” Sean Phirangee said.He turned 18 the next day. Jhagroo-Sookoor said her son is reluctant to celebrate that occasion now because it’s also the day his father was lost. She said the death left a hole where a father should be — teaching him to drive, helping him navigate relationships, talking about things he’d rather not broach with his mother.But she said Phirangee was a father long enough to leave a lasting impact. Sean grew up to be a lot like him, and she’s glad for that.

They built their Hindu temple together. A fatal gunshot tore them apart.

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