broken-down cars. Cash, clothes, and cocaine dominated its culture.
Tiffany was sitting on the mailbox swinging her legs, talking with friends. Then, from behind, two or three young men wearing Halloween masks ran across a small lot and began firing into the group. Minutes later, the 911 call to the Boston police captured the horror: “Oh, God! Oh, the little girl on the ground, shot.” Blood poured from three bullet wounds. One—to Tiffany’s head—was the wound a medical examiner termed “incompatible with life.”
Tiffany Moore became an instant symbol of the drug-fueled lawlessness rocking the city. The girl was the youngest victim ever in the city’s street gang wars, and her killing made the news around the country. She was collateral damage—the unintended victim of one street gang—Castlegate—seeking vengeance against the Humboldt Street gang, whose members were among the group of kids mingling on the street corner. City leaders sought to calm a public crying out for an arrest and panicked by the soaring murder rate. Some in the community even called for the deployment of the National Guard in Roxbury. Promising results, police launched a massive search.
Two tense weeks later, justice was apparently in hand. Shawn Drumgold, a twenty-two-year-old only a few months out of prison, and a second man were charged with killing Tiffany Moore. Police and prosecutors told reporters Drumgold was a “drug dealer and member of the Castlegate gang” and that “many, many witnesses” told them Drumgold was the shooter. The big problem with the statements was accuracy: They were false. Drumgold was no innocent—a street-corner drug dealer who had shot and been shot at, he surely fit the profile of a possible suspect. But Drumgold was a freelance drug dealer unaffiliated with any gang. Homicide detectives knew this; police kept books listing street gang members and anyone associated with a gang. It was all part of the beefed-up effort to combat the gang violence. Drumgold was not listed in the Castlegate book—or in any gang listing. Even some of the officers assigned to the streets of Roxbury were taken aback when homicide detectives picked up Drumgold as their man. “Shawn was dealing in peace, not bothering either gang,” said one officer based in Roxbury.
But the homicide detectives apparently didn’t want to hear any of it. From the start they focused on Drumgold and his pal, building a case on the backs of youngsters who were intimidated and pressured into providing incriminating testimony, all of which became pieces of the prosecution’s case. Without key physical evidence—the guns and Halloween masks were never recovered—witness testimony was everything.
“I’m just a dumb puppet in there,” one witness confessed later about how he folded under police pressure and agreed with his interrogators’ suggestions that Drumgold was armed and looking for trouble that night. Fourteen months after Tiffany was killed, in October 1989, Drumgold was convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to life without parole. His associate was acquitted. It didn’t matter that many in the neighborhood knew Drumgold couldn’t have done it, because he couldn’t be two places at once. Hewas not on Humboldt Avenue when Tiffany was shot; he was blocks away with a group of friends snorting coke. But, given their illegal drug activity and fear of police, those alibi witnesses went underground rather than risk facing the police.
Even Tiffany Moore’s mother was not sure. “It was very hard to tell if he was the right one,” Alice Moore told a neighborhood newspaper, the Bay State Banner , following the murder trial in October 1989. “It’s a big mess.” Fourteen years later, Drumgold’s conviction was overturned. Press accounts exposed the pattern of witness intimidation, possible prosecutorial misconduct, and the alibi evidence. In the “interests of justice,” the district attorney asked a Superior Court
Tiffany was sitting on the mailbox swinging her legs, talking with friends. Then, from behind, two or three young men wearing Halloween masks ran across a small lot and began firing into the group. Minutes later, the 911 call to the Boston police captured the horror: “Oh, God! Oh, the little girl on the ground, shot.” Blood poured from three bullet wounds. One—to Tiffany’s head—was the wound a medical examiner termed “incompatible with life.”
Tiffany Moore became an instant symbol of the drug-fueled lawlessness rocking the city. The girl was the youngest victim ever in the city’s street gang wars, and her killing made the news around the country. She was collateral damage—the unintended victim of one street gang—Castlegate—seeking vengeance against the Humboldt Street gang, whose members were among the group of kids mingling on the street corner. City leaders sought to calm a public crying out for an arrest and panicked by the soaring murder rate. Some in the community even called for the deployment of the National Guard in Roxbury. Promising results, police launched a massive search.
Two tense weeks later, justice was apparently in hand. Shawn Drumgold, a twenty-two-year-old only a few months out of prison, and a second man were charged with killing Tiffany Moore. Police and prosecutors told reporters Drumgold was a “drug dealer and member of the Castlegate gang” and that “many, many witnesses” told them Drumgold was the shooter. The big problem with the statements was accuracy: They were false. Drumgold was no innocent—a street-corner drug dealer who had shot and been shot at, he surely fit the profile of a possible suspect. But Drumgold was a freelance drug dealer unaffiliated with any gang. Homicide detectives knew this; police kept books listing street gang members and anyone associated with a gang. It was all part of the beefed-up effort to combat the gang violence. Drumgold was not listed in the Castlegate book—or in any gang listing. Even some of the officers assigned to the streets of Roxbury were taken aback when homicide detectives picked up Drumgold as their man. “Shawn was dealing in peace, not bothering either gang,” said one officer based in Roxbury.
But the homicide detectives apparently didn’t want to hear any of it. From the start they focused on Drumgold and his pal, building a case on the backs of youngsters who were intimidated and pressured into providing incriminating testimony, all of which became pieces of the prosecution’s case. Without key physical evidence—the guns and Halloween masks were never recovered—witness testimony was everything.
“I’m just a dumb puppet in there,” one witness confessed later about how he folded under police pressure and agreed with his interrogators’ suggestions that Drumgold was armed and looking for trouble that night. Fourteen months after Tiffany was killed, in October 1989, Drumgold was convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to life without parole. His associate was acquitted. It didn’t matter that many in the neighborhood knew Drumgold couldn’t have done it, because he couldn’t be two places at once. Hewas not on Humboldt Avenue when Tiffany was shot; he was blocks away with a group of friends snorting coke. But, given their illegal drug activity and fear of police, those alibi witnesses went underground rather than risk facing the police.
Even Tiffany Moore’s mother was not sure. “It was very hard to tell if he was the right one,” Alice Moore told a neighborhood newspaper, the Bay State Banner , following the murder trial in October 1989. “It’s a big mess.” Fourteen years later, Drumgold’s conviction was overturned. Press accounts exposed the pattern of witness intimidation, possible prosecutorial misconduct, and the alibi evidence. In the “interests of justice,” the district attorney asked a Superior Court
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