Local News
Terrance
Roberts shooting arrest leaves Park Hill divided, bewildered
By Sadie
Gurman and Colleen O'Connor
The
Denver Post
Posted: 10/06/2013 12:01:00
AM MDT
[PHOTO: Terrance Roberts, 37, at the
Boys and Girls Club in Holly Square in February. Roberts founded the Prodigal
Son Initiative, an anti-gang youth program, in northeast Park Hill. (Hyoung
Chang, Denver Post file)]
For eight years, Terrance Roberts carried the
burden of hope in his northeast Park Hill neighborhood, balancing between the
violent world of the Bloods street gang and his quest for redemption.
It was a weight he embraced: Hope that as a
former Blood, he could find a way out of the gangster life and help lead others
in a different direction. Hope that the city had found a partner in turning
around the neighborhood near Holly Square. Hope that he could reach kids before
it was too late.
Today, Roberts faces attempted-murder
charges. He is in hiding, exiled from his home, his job and the community he
sought to serve. He said he's worried about the kids in his anti-gang,
nonprofit Prodigal Son program, who have to deal with "the fear and
possible shame" of being linked to his organization.
[PHOTO:
Terrance Roberts. Custody photo. (Denver Police Department)
Police said Roberts, 37, shot a reputed Blood last month
during a community rally he had helped to organize. Roberts claimed he was
threatened, but witnesses told police he shot the man at least five times,
twice while he lay motionless on the ground.
The shooting bewildered people who
had invested in Roberts as a leader who helped bring change to a troubled
neighborhood.
"He, more than anybody, wanted
to make sure we were able to quash incidents on the street," said Denver
Mayor Michael Hancock, who worked closely with Roberts. "That's what makes
this situation so difficult to deal with."
Some people say that hope in Roberts
was misplaced. They accuse him of being more interested in promoting himself
than helping the neighborhood. They said he still dabbled in gang life and had
lost the trust and respect of many he claimed to serve.
Roberts' allies remain hopeful he
will find new ways to contribute after an expected criminal prosecution. But
they concede that it likely will be someplace else — far from the peace poles,
camouflage buildings and basketball courts that redefined Holly Square on his
watch.
Prodigal Son launched
Roberts shadowed Kelly's
after-school programs in Five Points and decided he wanted to do the same type
of work in Park Hill, where he grew up.
He launched Prodigal Son a year
later.
Roberts set up his headquarters in
northeast Park Hill, a post-war neighborhood that was for decades rattled by
noise from the former Stapleton Airport. At its heart was the Holly Square
Shopping Center, a low-slung strip mall anchored by a dollar store at East 33rd
Avenue and Holly Street.
He rented a space across the street
and began working with neighborhood kids.
Roberts was one of the first
community members to demand the eyesore be turned into something positive.
With help from the city, the Urban
Land Conservancy purchased the property in 2009. Many community meetings were
held to develop a design for the six-block area, known as the Holly Area
Redevelopment Project, to link the existing HOPE Center, Hiawatha Davis rec
center and Skyland Park with new amenities.
Basketball courts — flanked by 12
"peace poles" salvaged from the wreckage of the shopping center and
decorated with images of peacemakers including Desmond Tutu — were the first
project to be completed.
The most recent was the Boys and
Girls Club that celebrated its grand opening Saturday.
"He was an integral part of
HARP and our redevelopment," said HOPE Center executive director Gerie
Grimes. "Regardless of the tragic situation, he is still an integral part
of where we've gotten, from the past to now."
Diminished credibility
Among the young gang members Roberts
tried to reach was the man he is accused of shooting, Hasan "Munch"
Jones , 22. They had gone to Nuggets games together, and Jones visited the
Prodigal Son office, those who know both men said.
Still, Jones remained entrenched in
gang life. In 2010, he pleaded guilty to assault in a domestic violence case.
The same year, officers who arrested him for possessing individually wrapped
rocks of crack cocaine described him as "a violent gang member."
And like some others in the
neighborhood, Jones was increasingly disillusioned with Roberts, whom he had
come to see as a snitch who still wanted a stake in gang life.
Jones "got a chance to witness
two different individuals," said Carl McKay, 42, who runs a shop at East
33rd and Holly. "When you're not firm in who you are, and you allow people
to see a different side ... then, yeah, it's going to lead to questions."
McKay grew up with Roberts,
supported his anti-gang work and advised him along the way.
Roberts continued to personally
involve himself in gang dramas, and Mc-Kay said that diminished his credibility
among those he sought to help. Roberts seemed particularly conflicted by the
slaying of his childhood friend Charles Harris in the neighborhood in April.
"The way he was feeling
suggested he had forgotten what career path he had chosen," McKay said.
"I had to remind him of that career path."
Rumors started to swirl that Roberts
was dealing drugs and keeping ties to his former gang.
The accusations had begun to wear on
Roberts, said Five Points community leader Jeff Fard.
"As someone who knows Terrance
relatively well, I know he was not involved," Fard said. "His camo
movement was about countering the negative elements of the gang culture. He was
always working to take the negative elements out and to build community."
Roberts' Colorado Camouflage
Movement encouraged youth to wear camouflage instead of the red of the Bloods
and the blue of the Crips. Some buildings near Holly Square are painted
camouflage.
But McKay said even that ended up
sending mixed messages when people, including Roberts, started wearing
camouflage caps with letters representing different neighborhoods —
"P" for Park Hill, "E" for East Side or "A" for
Aurora.
Roberts' involvement in "Drugs,
Inc.," a National
Geographic television series that for months had been filming in
Park Hill and other parts of Denver, further aggravated neighborhood tensions.
The show painted Park Hill in a
false light, McKay and others said. Clips show gang members, faces masked by
red bandanas, talking about drug dealing. It appeared to some that Roberts was
trying to make money by showing the camera crews around the neighborhood.
It eroded trust, especially for
Jones, who took him to task. Roberts didn't take it well.
"When a person feels like they
changed the conditions of the people, then who are the people to
question?" McKay said. "And that's what led to all the
(conflict)."
Some street cops and gang detectives
also were wary of Roberts, finding his past hard to ignore.
But Cmdr. Mike Calo saw him as a
partner with a similar goal. Calo oversaw the police department's gang unit
when Roberts was launching Prodigal Son. He now commands the District 2 station
in northeast Denver.
"We'd get together to talk
about what was going on in the neighborhood, not as an informant, but to get a
feel about what was going on with him and his agency and if there was anything
we could do to assist," Calo said. "He was someone we could call to
find out what we could do to diffuse situations."
But Calo said he never pressed
Roberts for confidential information.
"It was truly a collaboration
for working toward the goal to have peace in the neighborhood," Calo said.
Home life in turmoil
Prodigal Son started 2013 with
serious financial problems.
Contributions were increasing, but
for three years starting in 2009, the organization spent more than it raised.
By the end of 2011, Prodigal Son was more than $5,000 in the red, according to
Internal Revenue Service documents.
In January, Roberts said he needed
to raise $60,000 to keep the doors open.
Through Denver Health, Prodigal Son
received nearly $100,000 from the city in 2012 to cover the salaries of two
outreach workers. This year, another $127,000 was available from the city. So
far, about half of that has been paid. According to the city, none of the
outreach money went directly to Roberts.
Soon after Roberts made his plea for
cash, the Anschutz Foundation, funded by Denver billionaire Philip Anschutz and
his family, announced a $5 million gift
to help build the Boys and Girls Club. It was the fulfillment of Roberts' own
dream for the neighborhood, but it also forced him to change programming at
Prodigal Son because it duplicated the club's work.
By March, he'd raised about $30,000,
but his home life was in turmoil.
Kelly worried that Roberts' was
spending too much time at work. "I used to pull him aside and say, 'Hold
up. You need to be dealing with your own family.' "
Roberts and his wife divorced in
August.
On the street, people noticed his
temper was growing short. He complained he was getting no respect. Even his
allies said he was more hot-headed.
Shooting at rally
As the sun began to set on Sept. 20,
scores of people gathered at Holly Square for the "One Love Black Unity
Rally" Roberts had helped plan. The shooting happened at the start of the
event, near the peace courts, where a group of Bloods were playing basketball.
"All you would have shot him,
too," an officer heard Roberts tell the crowd.
A convicted felon, Roberts can't
legally possess a gun.
Connect the Kids founder Erik
Myhren, who has worked with Roberts on projects with inner-city kids since the
beginning of Prodigal Son, believes that Roberts acted to save his own life.
"I genuinely believe Terrance
felt there was no other choice," he said. "It wasn't done out of
anger. He sat there after with a gun and the kid lying on the ground."
But several people on the courts that
day said Roberts targeted Jones.
Kelly said Roberts had been dealing
with threats and increasing pressure from the Bloods. Others dismiss that
claim.
"People say, 'What was he
thinking?' " said Kelly. "Whether he was threatened or not, if he
felt threatened, that would put him in survival mode."
Focused on faith
Roberts, who was released on
$100,000 bond, will be advised of the charges against him on Monday.
In an interview late Wednesday, he
was circumspect about his change in trajectory.
"Did I lose my job and place of
residence? Am I dealing with legal things? Yes," he said. "I'm
discombobulated. But I've been through worse, and for worse reasons."
He is focused on the faith he
developed while in prison, reading the Bible and the teachings of Martin Luther
King Jr.
"The Lord is with me," he
said. "I feel very confident about my life right now, where I am at right
now with everything and my future. One incident with me with guys who did not
agree with my message is not going to deter my message from the millions of
people who need it. "
Though the possibility of prison
looms, he envisions a future helping redevelop blighted neighborhoods.
He is proud of his work in Park Hill
and Holly Square, and ponders the many previous supporters who have not stepped
up to speak on his behalf.
"I understand people have to
try to protect their best interests," he said. "But on the flip side,
it's not like you guys didn't understand what I was going through then. When I
expressed it, you called me 'an angry black man.' "
Jones, who remains hospitalized,
hasn't been able to feel his legs. His uncle, Jabulani Abdalla, said he has
improved enough to send text messages to friends and family.
Jones' father, Abdalla's nephew, is
Isaac "Big Ice" Alexander, who has a criminal past that spans two
decades and who ran with Roberts in the Bloods in the 1990s, Abdalla said.
The
whole family is reeling.
Concerns remain about retaliation,
but older former gang members have been trying to keep the lid on flaring
tempers, said one man who gave his name only as "OG."
"We're not going to let that
happen," he said. "The legal system will take care of Terrance."
And God will take care of Jones,
Kelly said.
"Maybe Hasan will take on the
mantle that Terrance has left," Kelly said. "If he made as much of an
impact, that would help fill the void."
Abdalla is not so sure. Whoever
takes the torch, he said, will have an uphill battle because a lot of people
feel Roberts betrayed them.
But Mayor Hancock said though
Roberts was visible and vocal, he was only one player in the city's fight
against gang violence.
"There is a whole army of
individuals and organizations that have stepped up. Terrance was one of those
people, but he was not the only one," Hancock said. "It's a
tremendous loss. It has staggered the whole effort, but it is an effort that is
resilient."
[PHOTO:
Jabulani
Abdalla, 58, uncle of 22-year-old Hasan Jones, who was shot at a community
rally, said Jones has improved enough to send text messages. (Joe Amon, The
Denver Post)]