The Trentonian (Trenton, NJ)

Teen gun violence ‘a way of life’ in Savannah and Syracuse

- By Russ Bynum and Michael Hill

SAVANNAH, GA. » One is known as an oasis of Southern charm and history, drawing millions of tourists with its time-capsule collection of antebellum homes and marble monuments.

The other is a faded rust-belt city where winters are spent rooting for a cherished college basketball powerhouse and bracing for frigid blankets of lake-effect snow.

On the surface, Savannah, Georgia, and Syracuse, New York, don’t have much in common beyond their size; both are smaller cities with population­s hovering around 145,000 people. Yet their streets share a grim reality: Teenagers are being killed or wounded by firearms at rates far higher than in most U.S. cities, according to an Associated Press and USA TODAY Network analysis of shooting cases compiled by the nonprofit Gun Violence Archive.

From 2014 through this past June, 57 youths aged 12 to 17 in Savannah and 48 in Syracuse were killed or injured in gun violence. The cities’ rates of teen shootings per capita are more than double those seen in the vast majority of U.S. cities with population­s of 50,000 or more.

“It’s getting worse,” said Barbara O’Neal, who started the group Mothers of Murdered Sons in Savannah. “They’re still shooting. And they still don’t care.”

Her son, Alan O’Neal Jr., survived his teenage years, only to be shot dead during a robbery attempt six years ago at age 20.

The unrelentin­g gun violence in both cities is tearing at the adults who struggle to find answers and the kids who try, often in vain, to avoid mayhem.

Sheryl Sams speaks with a mix of weariness and disbelief about teen shootings in Savannah. She directs a program called Youth Intercept, which dispatches volunteers to the hospital emergency room to offer assistance to young people being treated for gunshot wounds.

Sams says Youth Intercept has its share of successes — roughly 75 young people have graduated from the program since 2010. But she estimates only about 1 in 3 victims accepts the program’s help.

“We have a kid who’s been shot three times and his mom finally tried to enroll him, but she hasn’t done all the follow-through,” Sams said, adding the mother and son stopped answering phone calls and knocks at their door. “He’s 14 now and he’s been shot three times. To them it’s a way of life.”

Founded in 1733, Savannah is Georgia’s oldest city and its downtown area forms the largest National Historic Landmark district in the U.S. An estimated 13 million visitors pumped $2.8 billion into the local economy last year. But beyond the Greek Revival mansions and manicured public squares, nearby neighborho­ods struggle with poverty and violence.

In a case that typifies Savannah’s shootings, 17-year-old Wayne Edwards was on his way to a party in August 2014 when he got into an argument with another teen standing outside his car. That teen raised a gun and fired five shots, with one bullet killing Edwards. He wasn’t shot over money or drugs; the evidence pointed to violence sparked by tough talk and bluster.

The 18-year-old shooter was sentenced to life in prison, but the crime still makes no sense to Edwards’ father.

“It’s still hard after three years,” Wayne Blige said of his son’s slaying. “You know what happened, but you still don’t know why.”

The Gun Violence Archive compiles informatio­n on shootings nationwide from media and police reports. The AP-USA TODAY Network analysis of those cases found that smaller and mid-size cities have higher rates of teenage gun violence than major American cities. Chicago, plagued for years by teen violence, is the exception.

Wilmington, Delaware, a city of roughly 72,000, had by far the highest rate of teenage gun violence, nearly twice that of Chicago.

Syracuse sits just beyond the vineyard-rich hillsides of the Finger Lakes region of central New York, a tourist destinatio­n of spectacula­r waterfalls, deep gorges and rolling hills that is aflame with color in the fall. The city has a grittier past, built not by pressing Riesling grapes but by stamping out parts for automobile­s and air conditione­rs.

Most of those factories have closed. The city is now known mostly for Syracuse University and its basketball team, a mainstay in the March Madness NCAA tournament.

The university’s stately halls sit atop a hill that looms over the city’s South Side, a sprawling mix of neighborho­ods that are often blemished Barbara O’Neal holds her smartphone which displays a photograph of her slain son, Alan O’Neal Jr., in Savannah, Ga. O’Neal started the group Mothers of Murdered Sons in Savannah after her 20-year-old son was fatally shot during an attempted robbery in 2011. An analysis of cases compiled by the gun violence archive found teenagers in Savannah are killed or wounded by gunshots at a rate far higher than in most midsized and large U.S. cities. “It’s getting worse,” O’Neal says. “They’re still shooting and they still don’t care.”

Over the slap of boxing gloves at the Faith Hope Community Center, Arthur “Bobby” Harrison said some teens who get mixed up with guns are good kids, but confused. His gym offers a place where neighborho­od youths can shoot hoops, lift weights or spar in a ring next to a wall plastered with pictures of local boxers and role models such as Muhammad Ali and former President Barack Obama.

Harrison, who was serving a sentence in Attica state prison during the infamously deadly uprising in 1971, provides a firm hand for the teens who train here. But the gym also is a sanctuary for teens such as Quishawn Richardson.

“It doesn’t remind you of all the violence that’s going on outside,” said Quishawn, a lanky 15-year-old who dreams of playing basketball up the hill at the university. “It shows you that Syracuse has got some places you can go to without getting hurt.”

EDITOR’S NOTE Part of an ongoing examinatio­n of gun violence in America by The Associated Press and the USA TODAY Network.

 ?? JULIE JACOBSON — THE ASSOCIATED PRESS ?? An anti-violence sign, created by former gangsters, hangs on a window of a corner convenienc­e store where a woman and her daughter finished shopping, Monday in the South Side neighborho­od of Syracuse, N.Y. Syracuse is a modestly sized city with a big...
JULIE JACOBSON — THE ASSOCIATED PRESS An anti-violence sign, created by former gangsters, hangs on a window of a corner convenienc­e store where a woman and her daughter finished shopping, Monday in the South Side neighborho­od of Syracuse, N.Y. Syracuse is a modestly sized city with a big...
 ?? RUSS BYNUM — THE ASSOCIATED PRESS ??
RUSS BYNUM — THE ASSOCIATED PRESS

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