Discussion:
After rioters burned Baltimore, black killings pile up largely under the radar
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Dave Murphy
2018-06-22 03:42:39 UTC
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BALTIMORE — Andre Hunt counseled troubled kids through the Boys
and Girls Club. He volunteered at the local NAACP chapter. A
barber, he befriended the son of an assistant high school
principal, swapping tales of football and life while the boy
grew into adulthood under the clips of his shears.

“He was like a big brother to my son,” the mother, Karima
Carrington, said of her trips to Cut Masters on Liberty Heights
Ave­nue.

The 28-year-old Hunt was lured out of the barbershop, according
to his attorney, and shot in the back of the head on the
afternoon of April 29. He was among more than 30 people slain in
Baltimore in 30 days, an alarming number of killings and part of
an undercurrent of violence here.

Although riots and protests after the death of Freddie Gray, who
was injured in police custody, brought national attention to the
city, the slayings have attracted little notice. They come as
Baltimore works to recover from the unrest, with a police force
demoralized by the arrests of six of its members — three of whom
face murder or manslaughter charges in Gray’s death — and under
the scrutiny of the Justice Department.

The Rev. Jamal H. Bryant, pastor of the Empowerment Temple and a
local activist, said city residents have “almost been
anesthetized” to the killings. “In any other community, these
numbers would be jaw-dropping.”

A month before Gray’s death, Bryant joined Mayor Stephanie
Rawlings-Blake (D) at a summit to urge black men to help stop
black-on-black killings. African Americans comprised 211 of
Baltimore’s 216 homicide victims in 2014. Now Bryant, who
eulogized Gray at his funeral, believes in “enlarging the
narrative beyond Freddie Gray” to harness the anger and renew
the focus on curbing violence.

“The young people are engaged,” the pastor said. “Now there has
to be a clear conversation on the contributing factors to murder
— lack of jobs, lack of opportunity, hopelessness. All have
contributed to the down­sizing of life. .?.?. Young people don’t
fear death. They’ve almost embraced it as part of life in
Baltimore.”

Hunt’s killing remains unsolved. His attorney describes it as a
daylight execution along the dilapidated commercial strip a
little more than a mile from where the riots first erupted at
Mondawmin Mall. Hunt’s friends believe the barber’s death is
linked to his former position as a middleman in this city’s
lucrative heroin trade. He was shot a month after he was
sentenced to three years in federal prison for distributing
drugs in Gray’s neighborhood, and 10 days before his attorney
said he planned to report to serve his term.

Hunt’s roles as youth mentor, legitimate wage earner and drug
dealer are part of the dysfunction and paradox of surviving in
troubled neighborhoods, where narcotics are an integral part of
commerce and as common as the vacant rowhouses that dominate the
landscape. Hunt bought heroin wholesale and sold to street-level
pushers working West Baltimore’s Gilmor Homes and its isolated
courtyards between strips of drab public housing. This is the
part of the Sandtown-Winchester neighborhood where Gray grew up
and where he was arrested before he died April 19, after having
been shackled and put without a buckled seat belt in the back of
a police van.

Upsurge in homicides
The protests and riots that roiled this city in the aftermath of
Gray’s death quieted after the police officers were charged. But
even as shops were looted and burned and 3,200 Maryland National
Guard troops came to restore order, another type of violence was
consuming Baltimore.
From mid-April to mid-May, 31 people were killed, and 39 others
were wounded by gunfire. Twice, 10 people were shot on a single
day. As of Friday, the deadly burst has pushed the city’s
homicide count to 91, 21 above last year at the same time. In
the District, 40 people had been slain as of Friday, not
including four people found dead Thursday in cases police said
are being investigated as homicides but are awaiting a ruling by
the medical examiner.

Baltimore has historically been a violent city, earning a
moniker of “Mob Town” during gang riots of the 1850s. Homicides
topped 300 for 10 consecutive years in the 1990s. Although the
annual figure has fallen to the low 200s, the city remains among
the top tier in per capita murders, ranking fifth in 2013,
behind Detroit, New Orleans, Newark and St. Louis.

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The past few weeks have been rough on rank-and-file cops who,
according to their union representatives, feel distrusted by the
citizenry, vilified by the media and alienated by prosecutors.
“Officers are coming up to me and saying, ‘I’m afraid to do my
job,’?” said Lt. Kenneth Butler, a 29-year veteran and president
of a group for black officers. He said officers, black and
white, are “equally upset, their morale is low.”

Lt. Victor Gearhart, with 33 years of experience, said officers
are second-guessing themselves, tamping down aggressive
policing. “Now they have to think, ‘What happens if this turns
bad? What is going to happen to me?’?”

During the rioting and protests, Baltimore police disclosed the
killings on the department’s Twitter feed amid tallies of
looting, fires and rock throwing. But shootings did not become a
topic except when police assured they were not linked to the
unrest. The day after the rioting began, and as the National
Guard deployed, the police commissioner declared on TV: “The
citizens are safe. The city is stable.”

Andre Hunt was killed the next afternoon.

Intersecting lives
Hunt was trying to escape the drug life.

He graduated in 2004 from a high school in Milford Mill, a
suburb of Baltimore. He got his barber’s license and started
cutting hair. He had two cousins in the drug trade, and his
attorney, Richard C.B. Woods, blames them for luring him into
illicit dealing.

One cousin, Sean Wilson, 46, was sentenced in February to 11
years in federal prison for working with a heroin dealer in New
Orleans. When police raided his house in suburban Baltimore,
they found 10 kilograms of heroin and $464,000 in cash. An
additional $89,000 was found stuffed into the pipes of a Ford D-
250 pickup.

This was the atmosphere in which Hunt found himself, Woods said,
and, starting in 2012, he joined with another cousin to sell
heroin. Hunt’s nickname was “Cousin,” due to the family
connections that put him in easy reach of large amounts of
drugs. He worked out of a stash house in Reservoir Hill, a
neighborhood just above the intersection of Pennsylvania and
North avenues that was the epicenter of the riots.

In his plea agreement in federal court, Hunt admitted they
poured drugs into Gilmor Homes. Business was brisk. In one car
stop of Hunt, police reported finding 50,000 empty yellow zip-
top bags typically used to package drugs for streets sales.
Inside the Reservoir Hill house, police found 1.6 kilograms of
heroin and a .357 Magnum revolver.

Hunt and others were arrested in October 2013. He pleaded guilty
in May 2014 but wasn’t sentenced until in March 17, 2015. A
federal judge allowed him until May to surrender for prison.

But just two weeks after Hunt entered his guilty plea, Wilson,
who had not yet been arrested, heard that his cousin was going
away for just three years, while others got much more time,
according to court filings. Wilson talked to his New Orleans
supplier on a call bugged by the FBI.

“I don’t know how the [expletive] that happened,” Wilson said,
according to a court affidavit. “I’m still trying to get to the
bottom of it.”

The Maryland U.S. attorney’s office declined to comment. Woods
said his client was spared a long prison term because he had no
prior convictions and appeared to be trying to turn his life
around.

“He was hard-working,” the lawyer said. “He mentored young
people. That’s unusual. Most people in drug-distribution rings
don’t care anything about anything but their money. He was a
good young man who got roped into this.”

Karima Carrington, the assistant principal of the Academy for
College and Career Exploration, a city high school, said she met
Hunt a decade ago while he was cutting hair at Cut Masters.

She took her sons to his shop. The youngest was then 12. Hunt
and the youth talked sports and jobs, and Hunt attended the
boy’s football games. Carrington said of Hunt’s death:
“Absolutely it had something to do with what he was doing on the
street. No one would want to hurt him other than someone in that
life.”

But just two weeks after Hunt entered his guilty plea, Wilson,
who had not yet been arrested, heard that his cousin was going
away for just three years, while others got much more time,
according to court filings. Wilson talked to his New Orleans
supplier on a call bugged by the FBI.

“I don’t know how the [expletive] that happened,” Wilson said,
according to a court affidavit. “I’m still trying to get to the
bottom of it.”

The Maryland U.S. attorney’s office declined to comment. Woods
said his client was spared a long prison term because he had no
prior convictions and appeared to be trying to turn his life
around.

“He was hard-working,” the lawyer said. “He mentored young
people. That’s unusual. Most people in drug-distribution rings
don’t care anything about anything but their money. He was a
good young man who got roped into this.”

Karima Carrington, the assistant principal of the Academy for
College and Career Exploration, a city high school, said she met
Hunt a decade ago while he was cutting hair at Cut Masters.

She took her sons to his shop. The youngest was then 12. Hunt
and the youth talked sports and jobs, and Hunt attended the
boy’s football games. Carrington said of Hunt’s death:
“Absolutely it had something to do with what he was doing on the
street. No one would want to hurt him other than someone in that
life.”

It was 1:30 in the afternoon, at a place called Walbrook
Junction. Another man shot in the head. Another death.

Hours later would be a funeral for another man killed May 2, the
last day of the curfew imposed during the rioting. He was the
grandson of a founder of Bible Way Church, oldest son of the
church’s former bishop, nephew of the bishop-designee.

The shootings and the burials continued their frenzied pace.

“It’s almost like there’s a war going on,” Hill-Aston said.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/local/crime/violence-has-become-
part-of-life-in-baltimore/2015/05/17/4909264a-f714-11e4-a13c-
193b1241d51a_story.html

Comments:

Magnify Glass
5/19/2015 7:30 PM PDT
Why is it that a portion of the city was destroyed when a man
died but nothing happens when more than 1 a day are killed? What
exactly are the protesters protesting? It certainly isn't the
loss of human life.
LikeReplyShare2

Scotch Ferguson
5/19/2015 1:12 PM PDT
When the government is your daddy, we breed domestic terrorists
just like they do in Syria
LikeReplyShare3

Atlas Shrugged
5/19/2015 12:15 PM PDT
Whoever wrote this story is a moron.

The guy was a drug dealer and he worked with kids - using kids
to distribute the drugs is the oldest trick in the book - how
could this reporter not put 2+2 together?

Trying to blame gangs from the 1850s is also BS - Baltimore was
one of the gems of the east coast up until the 1950s, with wages
10% higher than the national average, low crime and a thriving
economy.

Then the Democrats took charge and the city hasn't had a
Republican mayor since - such an amazing coincidence that
Baltimore and every other previously thriving city tanked after
half a century of Democrat rule.
LikeReplyShare2

LoneBird
5/19/2015 7:30 AM PDT
Barack and the new AG need to appoint a powerful commission with
some big names like Sharpton and Jackson to investigate all the
racism in these towns and get all the money needed to make big
changes including more millions in benefits for all the minority
residents! I'm tired of this.
LikeReplyShare1

Holla26
5/19/2015 6:45 AM PDT
Where is everyone meeting to protest today? Oh...nowhere
 
Byker
2018-06-22 21:50:32 UTC
Permalink
BALTIMORE — Andre Hunt counseled troubled kids through the Boys and Girls
Club. He volunteered at the local NAACP chapter. A barber, he befriended
the son of an assistant high school principal, swapping tales of football
and life while the boy grew into adulthood under the clips of his shears.
<snip>

Traditionally black-on-black homicides are
referred to as "misdemeanor murders"...

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