‘HE MEANT EVERYTHING’
A grieving basketball community gathers to bring some meaning to the loss of Jaqhawn Walters, one of their own
HARTFORD — E.J. Crawford was getting ready to sign his first professional contract. In this neighborhood, the North End, that’s a big deal. It’s where such dreams are born.
The city’s basketball royalty appeared one by one at the corner of Main and Rosemont, Mike Anderson, Kuran Iverson, about a dozen players, united by the love and talent for basketball, and on Thursday, united by grief. They gathered at the spot where one of their own, Jaqhawn Walters, was killed last Saturday.
“He was a big brother to me,” Crawford said. “When I got the news, it broke me up. I live right there, right up the street. I thought it was only right to do this here, because he’s looking down, he’s proud of me, this is what he would want.”
Crawford, 23, who had a distinguished college career at Iona, will play in Puerto Rico for about three months in a bubble environment, and then he hopes for more lucrative basketball in Europe when the coronavirus allows it.
Walters, a year older than Crawford, played at Albert us Ma gnu sand was planning to play a second professional season in South America when he
“We’ve just got to come together. That’s it. We’ve just got to lead. We’ve got to lead, especially for the youth.”
was shot after an altercation outside the Jam-Roc restaurant. Jason Stone, 33, has been charged with murder and, after his arraignment Monday, remains in custody on $1 million bond. Stone maintains the killing was in self defense.
Crawford and his father, Eric, arrived at the scene minutes after Walters was taken away, and soon word had spread and the neighborhood’s top basketball players were there, too. A vigil has been set up in the parking lot of the restaurant, with candles spelling out J-Q, and the shape of a heart. The pain still etched on the faces, evident in the strained voices five days later.
“I just felt like he was my little brother,” said Anderson, 29, who played at Weaver High, at the University of Washington and later in the NBA’s developmental G League. “To the community, he meant everything. He put a smile on everybody’s face. If he came over here right now and smiled, you’d start smiling.”
On Saturday night, as Walters’ friends and fellow players gathered at the Crawford’s home and talked of ways they could honor him. Eric Crawford envisions a vacant lot across the street from the scene of the shooting developed into a space to play basketball, where they could run clinics for young children, marked with a sign reading “Why JQ?”
“When you say, ‘ Why JQ?,’ that sparks conversa
—Mike Anderson, on Jaqhawn Walters’ legacy
tion,” Crawford said. “Why JQ? Why anybody? ... These guys want to try to do something for his legacy because he means so much. They came to the house and said, we don’t want to just do a basketball tournament or a one-day thing, we want to do something, because there is some good in this. How can his legacy impact some of the young kids in the community.”
At 12:30 Thursday, Crawford signed his name on the contract as the others solemnly applauded. “You’re a professional now,” someone called out. Shortly afterward, Walters mother, Trician Salmon, pulled up in her car. The players gathered around to speak with her for a few moments.
“Hemeantalottome,” said JeromeHarris, whoplayedat Southern New Hampshire, “I never got to tell him, in a physical form. Man, there was so much behind the scenes that he did for us. He wanted to bring the best out of everybody.”
This group is known to be able to find places to play basketball any time of the day or night, but there will be something missing.
“JQ was the brightest star this city and state has seen in a while,” said Chris Prescott, 30, who played at St. Peter’s, “his energy was unmatched, his positivity was enormous. His leadership in different ways in this community was legendary. He just brought life, he had so much life, and he poured so much life out for everybody. It’s going to be hard to see a basketball court without thinking about JQ. He was a once-ina-lifetime, one in a million personality.”
The basketball players gathered, though, not just to remember Walters, but to try to make a difference in this community, as he talked of doing. Walters father, Joseph Lindsey, was stabbed to death in an altercation a short distance away in 2015.
“We’ve got to do something,” E.J. Crawford said, “I felt like JQ was Superman. If this can happen to him, it can happen to anybody, so we need change bad.”
Anderson, 29, lost two brothers, ages 11 and 16, to gun violence in Hartford. Whatever form their efforts take, the emphasis will be on helping youth.
“We’ve just got to come together,” Anderson said. “That’s it. We’ve just got to lead. We’ve got to lead, especially for the youth, so that’s what we really want to do, we want to help out the kids. But honestly, man, I just want everybody to be happy, be together.”