The gutsiest player, the hideous crime

Headlines usually don't jump out at me any more. When you have edited as many articles as I have, your senses become dulled to even the most sensational headlines. But on Fri., Jan. 5, the New Haven Register printed one that made me look twice: "Former Cross athlete arrested in murder." The article continued, "Authorities arrested Marquis Mitchell, 19, of 44 Bright St. at his attorney's office without incident." Mitchell, who graduated from Wilbur Cross High school last year, was arraigned for the murder the day that the article was printed.

KATE MORAN/YH Marquis Mitchell is accused of an inexplicable murder.

Mitchell had been something of a Herald icon. Last semester, the Herald ran two articles about the top-ranked Cross' basketball squad, on which Mitchell was a high-flying bundle of energy disguised as a shooting guard. His first appearance in Yale media came after he knocked down a number of key shots to defeat intra-city rival Hillhouse High School last February. When Hillhouse grabbed the lead in the second half, Mitchell drained a three-pointer to keep his team in the game. Herald writer Ted Diskant described Mitchell's play simply as "gutsy" [YH 2/11/00].

But a crime such as his is simply cowardly. Mitchell allegedly committed a crime so brash that it defies comprehension, and is difficult to forgive. Allegedly, he and a companion accosted 28-year-old Larry Wiggins on the corner of Rowe and Lombard Streets in Fair Haven. After a brief argument, Mitchell pulled out a handgun and shot Wiggins in the face at close range. Wiggins clung to life, then died two days later. Mitchell's behavior following the incident was, unlike the crime, somewhat honorable. The police identified Mitchell as a suspect and began looking for him the day of the incident. Instead of running, Mitchell turned himself in, clearly willing to face the consequences of his actions."His family contacted me and said he wanted to do the right thing," Defense Attorney Christopher DeMarco told the New Haven Register. Mitchell promptly surrendered to police.

Last March, I saw Mitchell play his final basketball game and take his final shot. Over Yale's spring break, Mitchell's undefeated Governors took on Bridgeport Central in the state quarterfinals at Shelton High School, and I saw Mitchell for the first, and probably last, time. The hulking Jason Benton and the monolithic Louis Bosley were the stars of Cross' team, but the spindly Mitchell was the soul. When the Governors fell behind early in the game, Benton and Bosley began to show signs of frustration and exhaustion. They were neutralized by the scrappy Bridgeport Central squad. Cross stayed in the game, though, thanks to the 6'1" guard whose motor seemed to keep running on high as Bridgeport's lead increased steadily. Time after time, Mitchell took the ball to the basket when the rest of his team acted like they didn't want to play. After the game, Mitchell shook hands with John Migliaro, a balding white man and former Cross player who graduated in 1980. Mitchell seemed to be a bridge across races and generations. Mitchell's family, too, was supportive, intensely cheering on his inspired play.

Why did this high schooler, who seemed to have all of the right moves on, and off the court, effectively end his own life and that of Wiggins? No one seems to know. Jim Reynolds, Mitchell's coach at Cross, described him as a "special kid," whom he often drove home after practice and "really liked." Every sign visible on the hardwood pointed to a bright future for the kid from Bright Street. But unlike Benton and Bosley, who received Division I basketball scholarships to Manhattan and Hartford Colleges, respectively, Mitchell did not enroll at a university. At the Cross/Bridgeport game, there were numerous college scouts in the stands, all of whom must have overlooked Mitchell for some reason. Without basketball, Mitchell lost direction.

I can't imagine how it feels for his family to have rooted for their son and brother on the court one January and then urged him to turn himself over to a defense attorney the next. Nor can I imagine how it feels to be a member of the Wiggins family. Whatever the reason for Wiggins' death, the situation is a travesty for New Haven.

The recently released yearly murder statistics for the city show a significant increase, and everyone should be concerned with the trend—there have already been two murders this year, and just three lonely weeks have passed. The city ended 2000 with 16 murders; there were just 13 in 1999. To Yale students, this is merely a cause for more concerned calls from parents. The numbers mean a little more when that name in the headline is one that you know—and one that you had once respected.

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