Jennifer Lee Brignoni: ‘A happy little girl’ whose family called her Panda

This story is part of an ongoing Miami Herald series chronicling the lives of South Florida COVID-19 victims.

Jennifer Lee Brignoni faced a host of challenges in her short life. She died April 12 at age 34 of complications that followed diabetes and COVID-19. She’ll be remembered for her cheerful and helpful personality.

Jennifer was born on April 6, 1986, in the Bronx. She weighed only one pound and was diagnosed with Trisomy13, a type of Down Syndrome. She spent six months in an incubator and was expected to live at most 13 years.

“What they said that she couldn’t achieve, she proved them wrong,” said her mother, Sandra Martinez. “She made it past the expected age and then [got] all these certificates and participated in activities. They said that with her Down Syndrome she wasn’t going to make it, but she did.”

Martinez and her daughter moved to Miami when Jennifer was nine years old. Soon, she began attending a special needs program at Miami Senior High School.

Her former teacher, Evelys Pastor Cruz, said Jennifer helped run a coffee shop at the school, taking orders and writing receipts for teachers.

“She had an intellectual disability but was so independent,” said Pastor Cruz. “She took buses all over Miami, took care of younger cousins, siblings, and knew how to do all household chores.”

Jennifer graduated from high school and continued doing educational programs at Goodwill and elsewhere. She also consistently participated in sports and the Special Olympics.

“She said she was high-functioning,” said Martinez. “She wanted to work, her dreams were to get her own home, marry, have babies. She liked working, keeping busy.”

She awoke every morning before sunrise to make coffee for her mom, let their dogs outside, and get ready for school.

“She remembered me, ‘You know you gotta do this, you gotta do that’,” said Martinez. “Before she [went] to bed, she would open my room and ask if I needed anything, like a massage.”

She liked to cook a lot, especially macaroni, and loved talking on the phone with friends, listening to music and learning French.

“She was a happy little girl,” said her aunt, Joanne Martinez. “She had her own type of personality.”

Jennifer had numerous aunts and uncles, siblings, nieces and nephews. To her family, she was known as “Panda” and as someone who was always willing to help others.

She had diabetes and suffered from ear infections for years. In late March, she started having fevers, back pain and headaches. When she felt weak and refused to eat or drink anything, Martinez took her to primary care.

There, she had trouble breathing and almost fainted. The doctors immediately sent her to Jackson Memorial Hospital in an ambulance. Because of the pandemic, Martinez couldn’t visit or talk to her daughter.

Three days later, the hospital called Martinez, then sent a paper to sign. The caller didn’t know her daughter’s condition.

On the seventh day of Jennifer’s hospital stay, April 11, a doctor called Martinez to say her daughter had contracted COVID-19 and had “shown no improvement” since entering the hospital.

The doctor said he planned a transfusion, and Martinez prepared an Easter basket with candies for Jennifer after her return from the hospital.

“I’m over here having a happy moment in my heart,” she said. “Figuring, okay, they’re gonna give her some blood, and she’s gonna be better, and she’ll be home.’”

The doctors called again the next day, on Easter Sunday, but it sounded like there was trouble in the room. She heard a doctor in the background say, “Tell her you’ll call her back,” and the caller hung up.

The next call, moments later, was to let her know Jennifer had died.

Martinez tested negative for COVID-19 twice after her daughter’s death. She now awaits answers about the treatment.

She’d also like her daughter’s watch and telephone. Those had meaning, she said. The hospital says they are lost.

Worse, she contends her daughter was mistakenly cremated after her death.

“At least when you have a funeral, you see her decent,” she said. “You see her face. You get to kiss her goodbye.”

Jennifer will be remembered fondly by her mother, relatives, friends and teachers.

“She was a special girl indeed, a young soul gone too soon,” said Pastor Cruz. “A heart of gold. She would always look after other students who had more severe issues than her. She was unique.”

Alejandra Marquez Janse, a Florida International University journalism student, wrote this story for the Miami Herald.

This story was originally published June 30, 2020 at 2:47 PM.