2007 No. 1: City sets homicide record : With nine killings, officials call for more community involvement

A man is gunned down blocks from his house when he steps out for a cigarette. A teenager shoots another man in a fight over a cell phone. A man is shot when another man comes gunning for the people who beat up his cousin.

One of the dead men was killed by police when he shot an officer during a November drug raid.

In that tragedy, as in the other killings, the common threads are startling.

All nine victims and all the men charged so far in the killings are black.

All of the killings happened in or around public or subsidized housing.

The victims range in age from 18 to 44, with most of them in their 20s. The accused range in age from 17 to 39.

Six of the nine deaths happened between 10:30 p.m. and 4:45 a.m.

Annapolis Police Chief Joseph Johnson said although every crime is tragic, many of the victims knew their killers and had troubles of their own.

Eight of the nine victims had criminal records, and two of the five men who have been charged in the killings had convictions on their record.

"These violent crimes are not random. These are not everyday citizens being shot at or victimized..." Chief Johnson said.

"These folks know one another, and it seems to be happening where they live."

Unanswered questions

Lakeisha Smith wants answers about her husband's death.

When Lamar Fleming was shot, she was preparing to have his child.

But that night in March changed everything. Mr. Fleming stepped out to get a cigarette and was gunned down near their home.

"After that happened, I wasn't eating or nothing," she recalled this month.

At the time of the murder, she was about nine weeks pregnant. But days after her husband's death, she had a miscarriage. She had to deliver the unborn baby the day after his funeral, she said.

It was almost a relief.

"I didn't want to deal with another child, and he was gone," she said. Ms. Smith has five children, three of whom are Mr. Fleming's offspring. They're all between the ages of 1 and 9.

Since her husband's death, she's had to go through a lot on her own - their daughter's kindergarten graduation, his birthday and holidays.

She wants to move off of Copeland Street, where she's lived since 2001, and into a single-family home, but so far she hasn't had the resources.

"As long as it's away from here..." Ms. Smith said. "It's just so many memories around here."

Still, she wants to know what happened that night. Mr. Fleming's murder, and that of Marcus Wells on June 26, are both still considered open cases and no one has been charged.

But Chief Johnson and Lt. Brian Della of the city Police Department, still have hope they will be solved.

"It's likely that the shooter is going to turn up in another situation and we nail him with this one," Chief Johnson said.

Sometimes police will get tips, but not enough information to prosecute the person right away, he explained. Other times, a witness will come forward after they've been arrested themselves and will bargain with the information.

And many times police have more information than they let on - even to the victim's family.

"It could ruin your case," Lt. Della said, though he realizes it's frustrating for them.

A systemic problem?

Alice Johnson is reminded of her grandson's murder every day.

Her Bloomsbury Square home overlooks St. Anne's Cemetery where they buried her grandson, Jerome Hughes, after his Oct. 31 killing.

"I just want to scream. It's a pit in my stomach that is so empty," she said.

She cared for her grandson for much of his life and finally got custody of him just two months before he died. He suffered from a learning and mental disability, but she was unable to get much help for him through social services, Ms. Johnson said.

Ms. Johnson, a lifelong resident of Annapolis public housing, blames flaws in the system and government officials for not helping the plight of the poor.

"They wonder why we're killing each other," she said. "You put a rat in a cage, what is it going to do? It's going to strike back."

There's not much for kids in public housing to do, she said. There are no nearby trade schools at which they could better themselves and most kid-friendly entertainment costs money.

A drive through public housing communities shows the idleness she describes. In the morning, communities are like ghost towns without activity. But driving through at mid-day, one can see crowds of people gathered on the streets, some approaching cars with the likely intent of selling drugs.

"We want the best for our children. We want to expose them to something better than public housing," she said. "But what is there?"

She's forgiven the boy accused of her grandson's murder, a neighbor who turned himself in to police Nov. 1.

Dupree R. Williams, 17, hasn't been scheduled for trial yet.

"That young man will be missed too. I forgive him. I'm not going to keep that burden," she said.

She's trying to organize a meeting between local politicians and young men who live in public housing so "they can express what they have to deal with from day to day."

The Rev. Hulan Marshall was a longtime mentor of Terrance Powell, who was the first murder victim this year. He said he wishes there was more public outcry when young black men are killed.

If a downtown restaurant refused to serve a black man, he said, there would be angry picketing on the street.

"A young man is murdered, you don't have that same sense of outrage," the Rev. Marshall said. "Have people really become conditioned to that? Just another black youth and that's it."

Both the Rev. Marshall and Ms. Johnson are sure that the violence will spread from public housing to the downtown area. Until that happens, the Rev. Marshall said, no real action will stop it.

"As long as it's in these communities, not priority one," he said.

Clay Street, a hot spot for violent crimes and open-air drug deals, is just blocks from downtown. There's a congressman's office down the street, the county executive's office a stone's throw away, and the gunfire can often be heard from the Governor's mansion.

"Even they've become apathetic," the Rev. Marshall said of politicians.

Finding solutions

Officials said they're anything but apathetic about crime in the city.

Mayor Ellen O. Moyer said the city has requested financial support from the state and the Drug Enforcement Administration to help get additional resources, like more undercover police. The city was denied assistance from the county.

"It's important to identify this city as one that doesn't tolerate drug dealing," she said.

The city also is working on a new agreement with the housing authority that will develop a stronger public safety program for its 10 properties, she said. But offering options for teens and young adults and community involvement top the list of solutions city officials are bringing to the table.

David Cordle, Alderman for Ward 5 and chairman of the City Council's Public Safety Committee, said parenting is one of the biggest issues. The parents of a lot of teenagers grew up in a violent neighborhood, and it's been passed on to their kids.

"We have to break that chain, that cycle," he said. "Get the kids before the street gets the kids."

And though talk about crime has dominated the city, the problems don't seem to be getting better - at least not yet.

"We need less lists and more action..." Mr. Cordle said. "We've been doing the same old thing over and over."

But Ms. Moyer has faith in some of the outreach programs the city has already instituted, including the Tools for Success program and the Youth Summit.

"They help people see how they can say no. It's about making choices," she said.

Residents need to take an active role in cleaning up the streets, Chief Johnson said. The city needs to regenerate some of its once-active Neighborhood Watch groups, and community leaders in troubled areas need to take an active role in stopping problems.

In a press conference following the most recent shooting, RESPECT and the NAACP called for church leaders and the business community to get involved in problem areas to come up with a real plan of action. The Clay Street community has already had one such meeting, and another is scheduled.

If the meetings continue, and happen in other areas, Chief Johnson said, there's a real chance for success.

In the past, people were very reluctant to help police solve crime, even when they saw something happen. But more people are calling now.

"We need to get the community involved before the smoking gun. They've been involved after the fact," he said.

He hopes that residents would be more proactive and call when they first see someone with a gun in plain sight, or if they see an argument they think will get out of hand.

Still, fear still keeps some people from stepping forward, even anonymously.

"When you're too afraid to get involved in a confidential way, then you're saying to the criminals, 'come on in,'" he said.