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Epilogue | Kevon Wilson, 2003-2008

Little boy's death leaves a big void


Kevon Wilson was unusually calm before it happened.

Wednesday morning, he fished with his mom in Gulfport. He caught three guppies and seven conchs. He trapped lizards, one of his favorite things to do.

He rested on his mom's lap in the sun. The skinny, silly bundle of bounce just felt different that day, she said.

Later, he played a Tony Hawk skateboarding video game, then went outside to play at the Pinellas Point Apartments, where he lived.

That evening, a 14-year-old with keys to her mother's car drove into Kevon, pushing him against a wall in the parking lot.

He died. He was 5.

Kevon was mellow in the womb, unless his mother tried to sleep. Then, he kicked and kicked.

He wriggled three weeks past due, when he finally greeted the world via caesarean section.

When his grandmother, Rutina Jackson, held him, he gazed up into her eyes. It felt right.

By the time he was 6 months old, Jackson taught him to say, "Thank yee!" He walked at a year.

His first birthday party was at Chuck E. Cheese's. He bolted through the door in his walker faster than anyone could keep up.

His family called him Doodle and Doodlebug and Peanut — Kevon preferred Peanut.

He ran through doors screaming names: "Uncle, Uncle, Uncle!" "Gramma, Gramma, Gramma!" He followed with a stream of questions: "Can I see your car? Can I watch TV?"

He loved peanut butter and seafood, especially crabs.

One special day, his uncle, Eric Allen, took Kevon to Wal-Mart and bought him a cool outfit, complete with Spider-Man underwear.

Later, Allen gave Kevon a bath. The water and shampoo ran down Kevon's face, and he squealed: "Nooooooo, Uncle!"

He was angry, but it sounded like laughter.

He loved Hot Wheels, remote control cars, his dart shooter, SpongeBob SquarePants and Spider-Man. He played basketball and football. He asked his grandmother for an Xbox 360.

At 8 a.m. Saturdays, he'd knock on doors in his apartment complex: "Are you coming out to play?"

He rode his neon blue and lime green bicycle everywhere. He liked to jump it off ramps.

He hated to lose.

He knew the Soulja Boy dance. He liked to sing a rap song that goes, shorty got low, low, low, low.

At Mount Zion AME Church in St. Petersburg, he sat in the pew and played a toy flute. His favorite gospel song went, never would have made it, never could have made it without you. He dreamed of joining the choir.

He crawled in bed with his mother each morning. Sikkina Wilson, 22, put on Kevon's favorite movie, Happy Feet. It's about dancing penguins.

Last year, he took his first vacation to the country in South Carolina. He got dirty over every inch.

He saw his dad, Leeandre Green, 26, for the last time Friday. Kevon asked for money. His dad gave him $2. Kevon asked for more, so Green made it $3. He threw in his favorite baseball cap and a chocolate pudding cup.

Kevon tucked the money into his favorite shoes, black and white checkerboard Vans. He wanted to buy something at the store, or help his mom buy gas.

Kevon was good at his ABCs, and 123s. His family said he had perfect attendance at Fillmore Head Start.

Last week, he graduated preschool. He told everyone who would listen.

Stephanie Hayes can be reached
or (727) 893-8857.

Little boy's death leaves a big void 05/29/08 [Last modified: Monday, June 2, 2008 4:11pm]
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