(FOX NEWS) -- Jewish doctors and nurses at Allegheny General Hospital in Pittsburgh put their personal feelings aside to help save the life of the man who allegedly claimed he wanted to "kill all the Jews" as he opened fire at a synagogue and murdered 11 worshipers. Robert Bowers, 46, was shot multiple times himself and taken to AGH. In addition to killing eight men and three women, he wounded six other people, including four police officers, before surrendering Saturday. "He was taken to my hospital and he's shouting, 'I want to kill all the Jews,'" Dr. Jeffrey Cohen, president of Allegheny General Hospital and a member of the Tree of Life Synagogue, told ABC. "The first three people who took care of him were Jewish." MORE: 11 dead, 6 injured in Pittsburgh synagogue shooting | Police: Synagogue gunman said he wanted all Jews to die Another nurse, whose father is a rabbi, "came in from a mass casualty drill and took care of this gentleman." Cohen, who lives in the area and heard gunfire from his house, was one of the first responders on the scene. "I was standing there…and you could start hearing very quickly what was going on," he said. Cohen was quick to credit his doctors, nurses and hospital staff for their efforts. "We are here to take care of sick people. We're not here to judge you. We're not here to ask 'Do you have insurance or do you not have insurance?' We're here to take care of people who need our help," he said. According to Cohen, he and Bowers had a brief conversation at the hospital. "When I stopped in, I asked him how he was doing. Was he in pain? And he said, 'No. He was fine,'" Cohen said. Cohen says Bowers then asked him who he was. "I said I'm Dr. Cohen, president of the hospital. Then I turned around and left," he said. "The FBI agent who was guarding him said, 'I don't know if I could have done that.' And I said, 'If you were in my shoes, I'm sure you could.'" Bowers appeared briefly in federal court in a wheelchair and handcuffs Monday to face charges he killed 11 people in what is believed to be the deadliest attack on Jews in U.S. history. He was charged in a 29-count federal criminal complaint that included counts of obstructing the exercise of religious beliefs resulting in death -- a hate crime -- and using a gun to commit murder. Bowers was also charged under state law with criminal homicide, aggravated assault and ethnic intimidation. The Associated Press contributed to this report. --- Advertisement RELATED:<doc-sep>The gunman didn’t ambush Dr. Jerry Rabinowitz during prayers. As the shooter stalked his victims in the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh, Rabinowitz rushed to help the wounded, according to his nephew Avishai Ostrin. The price Rabinowitz paid for his compassion was his life. “He was a doctor, a healer,” Ostrin said in a Facebook post Sunday. “When he heard shots he ran outside to try and see if anyone was hurt and needed a doctor.” He added: “That was Uncle Jerry, that’s just what he did.” Dr. Jerry Rabinowitz Avishai Ostrin Rabinowitz, 66, was one of 11 people killed in the mass shooting at the synagogue when authorities say Robert Bowers opened fire during services Saturday. A married couple, two brothers and a 97-year-old woman were also among those who died. A geriatrician and family physician from Edgewood Borough, Rabinowitz was remembered for his laughter and warmth. He is survived by his wife, Miri; mother, Sally; and brother, Bill. “You know how they say there are people who just lighten up a room? You know that cliché about people whose laugh is infectious? That was Uncle Jerry,” Ostrin said. “It wasn’t a cliché. It was just his personality. His laughter, with his chest heaving up and down, with a huge smile on his face — that was Uncle Jerry.” A former patient poured out his grief as well as his appreciation for the doctor who held his hand — literally — during the worst days of his life. “How I wish I had reached out last year and told him I was ‘making it’ finally, and sent him a picture as proof,” Michael Kerr told NBC News. “You see, I went through many, many dark times.” Kerr got to know Rabinowitz in the “old days” for those with HIV, before there was an effective treatment for the poorly understood disease that devastated a generation. “He was the one to go to,” said Kerr, who was Rabinowitz’s patient until he left Pittsburgh for New York in 2004. “He was known in the community for keeping us alive the longest. He often held our hands (without rubber gloves) and always, always hugged us as we left his office.” Colleagues shared similar memories of the doctor. Dr. Ken Ciesielka, who went to college and medical school at the University of Pennsylvania with Rabinowitz, said he was “one of the finest people I’ve ever met.” “He had a moral compass stronger than anyone I have ever known,” Ciesielka told the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. Augie Siriano, a caretaker at Tree of Life, remembered other victims he considered friends or even family. Sylvan Simon, 86, and his wife, Bernice, 84, “were just the nicest people,” he told NBC News affiliate WPXI. And siblings David and Cecil Rosenthal were “like brothers to me,” Siriano said. “I was tying Cecil’s shoes and stuff because it was kind of hard for him,” the caretaker added. An organization that provides residential and employment services to people with disabilities said in a statement it was “devastated at the loss” of the Rosenthal brothers. David and Cecil Rosenthal (right), victims of a shooting at a synagogue in Pittsburgh. “Cecil and David had a love for life and for those around them,” the ACHIEVA statement said. “Our collective hearts are heavy with sympathy.” Richard Gottfried, another of the 11 victims, was a dentist who volunteered his services with Catholic Charities. The 65-yer-old known to many as "Dr. Rich" was Debi Salvin's twin, and Bonni Huffman's "baby brother." "Growing up, he as the only boy, he had three sisters that he had to deal with," Salvin said on "Today." "It’s just unimaginable that somebody that was so full of life is gone in an instant."<doc-sep>Max Londberg USA TODAY Network PITTSBURGH – Dr. Jerry Rabinowitz worked much of his life to prevent his patients’ premature deaths. At the end of his own life, that altruism put him in the crosshairs Saturday of an enraged anti-Semite who slaughtered 11 people. Rabinowitz’ funeral was Tuesday at the Jewish Community Center in the Pittsburgh neighborhood of Squirrel Hill. The 66-year-old family practice physician worked with a partner in another neighborhood in the city called Bloomfield. He worshipped at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Squirrel Hill. ► Oct. 30:Brothers killed in rage at synagogue lived in peace as gentle giants ► Oct. 30:Pittsburgh gripped by sadness, shadowed by controversy ► Oct. 30:After a week of violence, hope battles hate at our national memorials The man charged in the mass murder of Rabinowitz and 10 others expressed his hatred toward Jews to the police who brought him down. Cheryl Klein, a rabbi with the Dor Hadash congregation that shared the building with the Tree of Life Congregation, said during the service that Rabinowitz was in a Bible study room when gunshots ripped through the peaceful place, according to three people who attended the service. Klein normally would have been in the room with Rabinowitz, said Klein’s friend, Debra Tabas. But the rabbi was in Philadelphia with family. Rabinowitz did not hide. He rushed to the sanctuary where fellow Jews were dying. He likely went to render aid to those who had been shot, Klein said, a belief that Rabinowitz’ nephew echoed in a public Facebook post. Avishai Ostrin, Rabinowitz’ nephew, wrote that when his uncle heard the gunfire, “he ran outside to try and see if anyone was hurt and needed a doctor. That was Uncle Jerry. That’s just what he did.” “And that is how he lost his life,” said Lisa Parker, the director of the Center for Bioethics and Health Law at the University of Pittsburgh. Rabinowitz mentored her students. Parker was struck by the shared view speakers at the service seemed to have for Rabinowitz: compassionate, curious, vibrant. “I believe it was a rabbi who said it’s a tenet of Judaism to build a future before you take time to mourn,” Parker said. “Care for the world and each other – something Jerry would embrace – and only then look after yourself and emotions.” Years ago without gloves, Rabinowitz held the hands of HIV-positive patients. He hugged them too, wrote one such former patient on social media, a gesture of acceptance that stayed with him for years. Naomi Tucker said Rabinowitz and his wife provided emotional comfort to her hospitalized mother in her final months of life. ► Oct. 30:Congressional leaders invited but not visiting city with Trump ► Oct. 30:Millions are victims of hate crimes, though many never report them Rabinowitz’s childhood friend, his partner at his private practice and rabbis delivered eulogies. Psalms 15 and 23 were recited, and a plain pine coffin rested in the front of the auditorium, said Tabas, a friend of three decades. She recalled the doctor’s hearty laugh, big smile and his astute medical mind. David Sogg, 61, arrived at the service on his bicycle, saying his doctor would have been glad he had gotten some exercise. ► Oct. 29:He hid in a storeroom during Tree of Life shooting. Now he feels unsafe ► Oct. 29:4 Pittsburgh police officers recovering after terror at synagogue After the service, a procession walked about a mile in the street to a nearby cemetery. About a hundred people, book-ended with hearses, drew gazes from those on the sidewalk. Students at the girls-only high school within the Yeshiva Schools of Pittsburgh stood on one corner along the route, some with tears in their eyes. Army Staff Sgt. Kendall Lubay was on his way to a physical therapy appointment when he pulled over across the street from the cemetery entrance and stood at attention, his car’s engine humming. He hardly moved for minutes as vehicles flying orange “funeral” flags streamed through the open gate. "Even those people who didn’t lose their life are still losing their inner light,” Lubay said. “A respect needs to be shared to them. So that is why I did what I did." Down the street from the Jewish Community Center, off busy Murray Avenue, someone had written “vote” on a trash can lid. The single word has become a rallying cry here, with some wearing pins that read “I will vote.” Tucker said during a Sunday service for Dor Hadash, which shared the building with the Tree of Life Congregation, that Rabinowitz's widow had a one-word message for the congregation: “vote.” Tabas, the longtime friend, said everyone has an opportunity to “vote against hate” in next month’s election. “Congress … has abdicated their responsibility to protect the public welfare,” she said. Her comments were uttered at almost exactly the same spot as a protest that Tuesday afternoon would spill from the corner of Murray and Forbes streets. A large banner at the protest broadcast a message in all-caps: “Antisemitism upholds white supremacy." ► Oct. 29:‘I don’t want to be hated’: Jewish girls bring song to Squirrel Hill ► Oct. 29:Pittsburgh shooting suspect appears in court in wheelchair “President (Donald) Trump is inciting hate,” Tabas said on the day the president arrived in her city for the first time following the Saturday shooting. “He’s not directly involved in this event, but he’s responsible for the overall license to vulgarity in our country." Richard Greenberg, a 67-year-old who lives in the Squirrel Hill neighborhood, disagreed. “His (the shooter’s) DNA was hate,” said Greenberg, who practices Judaism, wore the star of David on his clothing and peered out from silver-sequined glasses. “He hated Jews. It wasn’t Trump or the left wing that set this guy off. It was in his heart.” ► Oct. 27:Attack worst on worshiping Jews in U.S. history, archivist says ► Oct. 27:Accused Pittsburgh synagogue shooter left anti-semitic trail Sogg, the bicyclist, said he's despairing, knowing the chasm between people of different political beliefs seems to widen with every mass shooting “Honestly, I feel hopeless,” he said. “I don’t know what to do. … Right now I’m just crying.” Max Londberg writes for The Cincinnati Enquirer. Follow Londberg on Twitter: @MaxLondberg .<doc-sep>
Dr. Jerry Rabinowitz was in another room in the temple when gunshots rang out. A Pittsburgh synagogue-shooting victim was in the temple when he heard shots ring out in another area of the building. He ran toward the shooting to help fellow congregants under fire. Dr. Jerry Rabinowitz, 66, was one of 11 people killed Saturday morning at the Tree of Life synagogue when suspected gunman Robert Bowers stormed in spewing anti-Semitic statements and shooting people at random. Rabinowitz, a beloved Pittsburgh physician, could have stayed sheltered in the room he was in but rushed out to see whom he could help, according to witnesses' accounts to ABC affiliate WTAE and Rabinowitz's nephew. In a Facebook post, the nephew, Avishai Ostrin, said he was not surprised to hear his uncle ran toward danger to help others. "I just learned a short while ago that although the shooter traveled within the building looking for victims, Uncle Jerry wasn’t killed in the basement of the building where the congregation was Davening [praying], he was shot outside the room. Why? Because when he heard shots he ran outside to try and see if anyone was hurt and needed a doctor. That was Uncle Jerry, that’s just what he did," Ostrin wrote. "You know how they say there are people who just lighten up a room? You know that cliché about people whose laugh is infectious? That was Uncle Jerry. It wasn’t a cliché, it was just his personality," Ostrin wrote. Steve DeFusco, a friend of Rabinowitz, said the doctor's final selfless act fit how he lived his life. "That doesn't surprise me at all. That's the kind of person he was," DeFusco told WTAE. A funeral for Rabinowitz, known as a dedicated physician who wore bow ties and had an uplifting bedside manner, is scheduled for 11 a.m. Tuesday at the Jewish Community Center in Pittsburgh's Squirrel Hill neighborhood near the Tree of Life synagogue. "This has been rough," DeFusco said. "He was a real personal-care physician that cared for the person who was waiting in his waiting room. He sat down and talked to you. There wasn’t a minute that he didn't pay attention to you. Jerry leaves a trail that's not going to be forgotten." The University of Pittsburgh Medical Center tweeted that Rabinowitz was a past president of one of its hospitals and "one of the kindest physicians and human beings in our community." Tami Minnier, an administrator with the medical center, mourned the loss of Rabinowitz. "Those of us who worked with him respected and admired his devotion to his work and faith," Minnier said in a statement. "His loss is devastating, and we extend our deepest sympathies to his family, friends, and fellow UPMC colleagues who loved him." Dr. David Hall, also affiliated with UPMC, said Rabinowitz's death hit his colleagues hard. "I mean the hospital's in tears. I walk in the ICU and ICU doctors tear up and nurses when I talk to them. We’re all just incredibly saddened and miss our Jerry," Hall told WTAE. Lawrence Claus, a former Allegheny County deputy district attorney, said Rabinowitz was his family's physician. "Dr. Jerry Rabinowitz was more than just a physician for me and my family; for over three decades he was truly a trusted confidant and healer who could always be counted upon to provide sage advice whenever he was consulted on medical matters, usually providing that advice with a touch of genuine humor," Claus told WTAE. "He had a truly uplifting demeanor, and as a practicing physician he was among the very best."