Slain teenager Antwon Rose II lived a life divided

Friends and family describe Antwon as a kind, loyal companion who fit into a diverse mix of settings, a jokester, but also a smart kid with an eye to the future.

He knew how to adapt: Antwon had lived in numerous states — including summers in Georgia, North Carolina and Florida with his great-aunt. And he knew the path out of poverty: He had applied to and been accepted at Indiana University of Pennsylvania, the school confirmed.

But Antwon was split between dreams of a bright future and finding a way to safely navigate the dangers of the streets. His life ended after he got into a car with another teenager and two guns June 19.

He was a passenger during a drive-by shooting that night, officials have said, but he did not fire any shots. Zaijuan Hester, 17, fired through a back window, according to a criminal complaint. He has since been charged as an adult with attempted murder and related charges.

During a traffic stop a few minutes later, Antwon was fatally shot as he ran from the car.

The shooting has sparked weeks of protests and led to a criminal homicide charge against East Pittsburgh Officer Michael Rosfeld. District Attorney Stephen A. Zappala Jr. said last month that Officer Rosfeld should not have opened fire on the unarmed teen who ran from him. The 30-year-old officer was released from jail to electronic home monitoring on a $250,000 unsecured bond.

It is unclear why Antwon was in the car during the initial shooting or how he knew Zaijuan Hester.

“It’s a loss to the world, to think what he could have done in the future — gone to college, got a nice job,” a former teacher, Laura Arthrell, said in a recent interview. “It’s what you want for your kids. His life mattered. Not to sound corny, but his life mattered.” •••

Antwon Michael Rose II was born July 12, 2000, in Pittsburgh, the son of Michelle Kenney and Antwon Rose. But his life nearly ended that day before he left the hospital.

Antwon flatlined while his mother was in delivery and doctors had to perform an emergency cesarean-section to save him. Ms. Kenney awoke to her firstborn son.

“From that day on, I always told Antwon that he was special, and that he was my angel,” Ms. Kenney said Friday during an interview at her Rankin home. “I didn’t know that he was on borrowed time, but his nicknamewas that he was special.”

From a young age, Antwon was a rambunctious, quick-witted kid with a penchant for running around shoeless. He often wore a white sock on one foot, barefoot on the other, a habit he carried until age 5 or so, Ms. Kenney said. And he rarely lost a debate.

“His responses were always timely, mostly funny,” Ms. Kenney said. “Even when he was attempting to be rude, he couldn’t because he was always so funny.”

Despite a humble upbringing, Antwon was spoiled, commanding attention from his mother and her aunt, Ronna Burke, who helped raise him, Ms. Kenney said.

By the time Antwon reached middle school, he was spending summers with Ms. Burke, who lived in several states after moving from Pittsburgh. It was a way to distance him from their neighborhood, which could be dangerous, Ms. Kenney said.

The summer before eighth grade, Antwon lived with Ms. Burke in Colorado, where he discovered a fondness for the mountains and outdoor sports. Ms. Kenney agreed to let him stay there for the school year, cementing his love for snowboarding and hockey.

Antwon’s summers away showed him different reaches of the country, broadening his horizons beyond his neighborhood, Ms. Kenney said.

“I always told him he was the type you could dress him up or put him in tennis shoes, and he’d still be able to go with the flow,” she said.

Years later, when Ms. Kenney saw children in her neighborhood playing with hockey equipment, she beamed with pride after realizing her son had shared his gear.

“Given that Antwon probably had more than most in the environment that we’re in, he was just taught to give back,” she said.

Antwon returned to Rankin in time for his freshman year at Woodland Hills High School. A few days into the semester, he met Mian in their first-period Algebra II class in the school’s gifted program, beginning a tight friendship throughout high school.

The teens bonded over shared interests, including comics, sports, Playstation 4 and music. Antwon, who played saxophone in the school jazz band, enjoyed a wide range of stylings, from jazz and R&B to hip-hop, including Western Pennsylvania rappers like Lil Skies and the late Jimmy Wopo, Mian said.

“He was respectful and kind and funny, exactly what you would be looking for in a best friend,” Mian said.

Antwon also was a thrill-seeker, a skier and snowboarder who attacked black-diamond slopes without fear. That’s how he and Tre Hanis became friends.

The adolescents loved filming each other rocket off jumps during trips with Tre’s family to Seven Springs Mountain Resort. “He was fearless. It opened up his life and made him feel empowered,” Tre said.

Antwon brought the same daredevil sensibility to skateboarding, riding a DGK board with a blue cartoon on the bottom, the one he used in 11th grade to finally land a triple kickflip, the trick he’d chased for years, Tre said.

His gutsiness came in handy once during a run-in with a group of bullies at Schenley Park, Tre said. The crowd of at least a dozen young men confronted Antwon, Tre and a few other friends after one of them took exception to an accidental skateboarding collision. Antwon was the first to stand up to them.

“It was a bad situation,” Tre said. “We were right behind him, and we just stood there until my mother could come pick us up. But it was OK once he started talking and explaining the logical aspects of the situation to them. I realized he was protecting us.”

Despite his book smarts, Antwon — an honors student who earned all science credits by the 11th grade — at one point questioned whether he was cut out for college, friends said. Antwon previously told his mother he might join the Army, which Ms. Kenney discouraged.

Mian wonders if Antwon worried about the cost or if he harbored unfounded doubts about his intellect. Antwon’s apprehension faded last summer when he tagged along with Mian for several college visits, including a trip to Goucher College, a private liberal arts school outside of Baltimore.

“I had interviews with the swim coaches at one of the schools, and Antwon talked with them even though he wasn’t swimming,” Mian said. “He was more a part of my family than anyone. We walked around campus and took it in, and thought about the future.”

Antwon and Mian even bought matching pairs of sweatpants, with the college’s name printed on the leg, sometimes both wearing them to school on the same day.

By the end of his senior year, Antwon was sold on attending college, but suffered a spell of disappointment during his final days of high school. Because of a late assignment related to a senior research project, Antwon was not allowed to participate in the school’s graduation ceremony, although he received his diploma, Mian said.