Community mourns slain teen

By Andria Simmons

The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

It was his uncle who finally asked the question that seemed to weigh so heavily on those who gathered to mourn the death of 18-year-old Bobby Maurice Tillman Jr. on Saturday.

Enlarge photo

Brant Sanderlin, bsanderlin@ajc.com A portrait of Bobby Tillman is carried out of the Siloam Church International in College Park , followed by some of his closest friends Saturday November 13, 2010, during the funeral for the slain teenager.

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"Why?" Corey Green said. "Why our Bobby?"

Then, he asked some 700 people in the congregation to lay hands on the person to their left and the one to their right and repeat: "If I am not part of the solution, I am part of the problem. I am my brother's keeper."

And with that phrase, a community sought meaning where it could not find a reason.

A group of boys attacked Tillman without provocation outside of a Douglasville party on Nov. 7. Authorities said the teenagers, four of whom have since been arrested on murder charges, kicked and punched Tillman to death. The seemingly indiscriminate and callous nature of the crime stunned people across the state and the nation.

Tillman's "homegoing celebration" Saturday morning at the Siloam Church International in College Park was remarkable for its pageantry, from the white-gloved ushers in top hats and tuxedos to the white hearse carriage pulled by two white horses. A profuse spray of red roses adorned the cherry wood coffin. The large funeral party filled at least a third of the seats.

Family friend Dorothy Harris told the congregation she remembered Tillman was a kind and loving child, and a peacemaker.

"I just remember him being a happy kid, just smiling," Harris said.

A gospel choir from Tillman's alma mater, Chapel Hill High School, belted out soul-stirring praise songs at ear-splitting volume, backed by a three-piece band, and a piano and organ.

And a DVD tribute projected on three screens showed a life in pictures: Bobby as a toddler, smiling as he sat astride a yellow plastic scooter; Bobby as a child, gripping a bat and almost swallowed up in his baseball uniform; Bobby as a teenager, looking dapper in a gold vest and dark tuxedo with his hands tucked into his pockets.

Rev. Olu Brown noted that "there are some who live to be 70 and no one comes to say goodbye like this."

"It didn't make sense when it happened and I don't know if we'll see a day in our lifetime when it will make sense," Brown told the mourners. "God says when things don't make sense, have faith."

After the service, hundreds of people milled around outside the church on an unusually warm and cloudless November day, encircled by trees that were aflame with reds, oranges and golds of fall. Tillman's mother, Monique Rivarde, and sister, Fashionee, watched tearfully as a pair of white doves were released. Then his coffin was borne away by the white horse-drawn carriage as relatives followed on foot.

A friend of the family, Angela Perry, said many in the community who knew both Tillman and his attackers are torn, confused and angry that more witnesses have not come forward. Police say they are still seeking at least one more attacker.

"More people should come up and say what they need to say, because there were a lot of people at the party," Perry said.

Perry's son, Ron Robinson, 17, drove by the party to check it out after he got a text message about it. Already a large crowd was gathered outside. But someone said a couple of girls were about to fight, so they left. He and another friend, Oliver Glass, 16, were emotional after the funeral.

"This situation changes your state of mind and makes you think about people, you know, and how fast people snap," Glass said.

Sukkang Lee, whose son was Tillman's best friend, said what bothered her most about Tillman's death is that it was so random.

"It could have been my child, anybody's child that was there," Lee said.