

Family decries friends' silence after son killed after Ravens parade






















He said detectives are still looking to the public for help.



In 2002, a family in East Baltimore died in a firebombing that was retaliation for telling police about drug dealing and other crimes on their street. And in 2009, an FBI informant was shot execution-style in South Baltimore. A witness caught bragging in a recorded phone conversation later told a grand jury she didn't see anything — because of the "code of the streets," according to a federal prosecutor.

That code is what worries Bumbrey and Wright the most as they pray for an arrest in De'ontae's case.

"I talked to a few of them who went to his high school," said Wright. "Only they know why they're not coming forth. But if he had friends who cared, it's just human nature to want to help. That's the culture we're in: People have a heart of stone."

Just "one little girl," a friend of De'ontae's who wasn't even at the parade, has come to Bumbrey volunteering to speak to detectives and be of any help she can, Bumbrey said. Meanwhile, she said, it feels as if everyone else is trying hard to forget De'ontae's killing.

After the stabbing, police initially said they had no information linking the individuals involved to the Super Bowl parade. His family felt the city purposely tried to shift attention from De'ontae's killing so Baltimore's violent reputation wouldn't spill into televised parade coverage and mar a proud moment. His mother knew from friends and from the school uniform they found in his backpack that he had skipped school to attend the parade.

A day later, police acknowledged that the teen was downtown for the parade and that they didn't have sufficient information to confirm that in the hours after the incident.

As Bumbrey and Wright sat recently in their living room, blinds closed, they expressed frustration with their son's friends who don't acknowledge his death. At Bumbrey's feet was a cardboard Luvs diaper box filled with pictures of her son.

"They can do what they want, but it's not going to go away," Wright said of the violence. "It's going to get nearer to their doorstep."

De'ontae Michael Smith was born to Allen T. Smith and Bumbrey on June 19, 1997, when she was 16. Forced to drop out in the 10th grade, Bumbrey lived with her mother, raising her son while she obtained her GED.

She rode a bus most mornings to drop De'ontae off at his grandmother's house, then headed to community college classes before working a 2 p.m. to 10 p.m. shift at Bennigan's. She would return to pick up her son late at night, usually getting home around 11:30 p.m

She tattooed his name on her left arm just above a Tasmanian devil because, she said, he was such a "little monster."

"We were really close because he was my only child for eight years, so he got all my attention," she said.

With short hair, a metal stud under her bottom lip and tattoos all over, Bumbrey, 31, is young enough to identify with the same music as her teenage son. They danced together, took pictures as if they were best friends and played board games like Candy Land, Monopoly, Life and Connect Four. She introduced him to Sega Genesis and Sonic the Hedgehog.

He had attendance problems at school, and Bumbrey said she had been keeping closer tabs on him and had been negotiating with teachers and administrators about his truancy.

She knew many of his friends. But after De'ontae's death, she said, few of them would talk to her.

Some told Bumbrey they weren't there, but she suspects otherwise. A picture posted to Facebook shows De'ontae and about 20 friends posing near the Ravens stadium shortly before the fight.

One boy told her that the fight was supposed to be between two other teens — not De'ontae, who was somehow drawn in.

"He said they were fighting together and they were beating up another boy, and another guy came out of the crowd and started stabbing my son," she said.

The boy said he didn't know anything further.

Copyright © 2014, Hartford Courant
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