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Teen's Slaying Inflames Anger, Fear
Shaquita Alston, 15, spends time at an outdoor memorial on Benning Road for best friend Cynthia Gray. A vigil was held at the spot Friday night.
(By Susan Biddle -- The Washington Post)
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Clusters of people gathered in the courtyard of her apartment complex on 46th Street SE, a series of brick buildings marked with gang graffiti, including the moniker "Simple City." It's the name used to describe the area around the Benning Terrace public housing complex, where at least 65 people -- including a 12-year-old boy -- were killed between 1987 and 1997. A truce between warring gangs has largely held in recent years.
Some wondered if Gray's death signaled a new era of violence. Gray's family mulled over not only her horrific death but also the killing of her boyfriend, 17-year-old Ronnie Garner, exactly one month earlier. Garner was shot in the head in the 4700 block of Alabama Avenue SE, not far from where Gray was slain. Terrell Jones, 22, was also killed in that incident.
No one was arrested in those slayings. Although police said Gray was not known to have been a witness to her boyfriend's killing, friends wondered whether their slayings were connected. Police said they have established no link.
Garner's aunt, Pamela Baker, said yesterday that her nephew often spoke of wanting to die the same way his father did: being shot in the head. Garner's father, Ronnie Miles, was killed in 1993 as he picked up milk at a corner store for his son. Miles was wearing a bulletproof vest when he was shot.
"He was just like his father," Baker said. "He said he wanted to die like him, and that's what he did."
During Friday's vigil, police cruisers buzzed around, and a mobile police station was set up nearby. Outreach groups were hoping to head off any attempts at retaliation. Few, however, believed that the anger, or action, would have a lasting impact on street violence, an entrenched part of culture in large U.S. cities for decades.
"As long as blacks are killing blacks, nothing is going to happen," said Claudette Hall, 60, who served four years for second-degree murder and who attended the vigil. "If we started shooting whites, the National Guard would be out here. This is a black genocide. Why are we sending people to fight overseas when this is happening here?"
There have been 114 homicides this year; last year at this time, there were 121. In July, after a rash of killings, Police Chief Charles H. Ramsey declared a crime emergency, and the D.C. Council tightened the youth curfew and agreed to install cameras in some neighborhoods. But there has been a consistent cry from those who work directly with youths that more must be done to keep them active.
"You can't just come into a community after a shooting and say, 'We're here, so stop the violence,' " said Ronald Moten, a co-founder of Peaceoholics, which takes an active role trying to mediate violence between rival neighborhoods, in part by giving youths jobs.
Ernestine Randolph, Gray's grandmother, said parents are partly to blame. She said the death opens wounds still raw from the slayings in the early 1990s of two of her sons, ages 23 and 14.
"When is this killing going to stop?" she asked, her voice cracking and eyes filling with tears. "I want to see whoever killed my grandbaby caught. They can be in prison for the rest of their life. The child hadn't even seen life. These parents out here need to start trying to control their kids."
Bertha Young knows the pain of losing a loved one. Her arms resting on a fence and her cane draped over her left arm, she dabbed tears from her eyes as people gathered Friday evening.
Decades ago, when she was living in New York, her brother was slain, and all she could do was take long walks and cry. She understood some people's calls for vengeance, but she cautioned against further violence.
"A lot of the kids have the mentality that 'If you kill my dog, I'll kill your cat,' " said Young, 78. What she hates most are the so-called street memorials for victims. There's one just up the street at a Popeyes and others on light poles and street signs across the city, most faded and dingy from the weather.
"I hate to see these memorials," Young said. "It really does something to me, because you know, somebody has gotten killed there."
Staff writers Ruben Castaneda, Theola Labbé and Robert Samuels contributed to this report.








