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Police determined that 20 rounds had been fired in about a minute. They arrested a 19-year-old the next day and three more suspects a few days later. If they are convicted in federal court, they'll be punished under the sentencing guidelines that my agency created, and join the more than half a million black men in state and federal prisons.

Every day the local news was telling me more about Helen than I had learned while she was alive. The Washington Post had a picture of her house in the East Capital Dwellings, one of D.C.'s worst public housing projects. All the television news shows broadcast the same picture of her standing before a blank white wall. In the picture, she is smiling and looks good, but it still looks a little like a mug shot. Her daughter was interviewed and I learned about other children and grandchildren, one of whom had successfully battled cancer a few years earlier. And I discovered that she had recently joined the Open Door Baptist Church, right around the corner from her house, where the funeral would be held on June 28.

Helen's wake was scheduled to begin at 10:00 a.m., with the "home-going" service at noon. The first cab I hailed on Dupont Circle refused to take me once I told the driver the address. The second cab driver was visibly upset, but at least he didn't ask me to get out of the cab. On the way across town I told him where I was going, and why, and he softened and took me right to the door of the small church.

The church was already filled when I arrived. The choir, consisting entirely of women, sung hymns from memory. "This is my story, this is my song, Blessed Assurance all the day long," they sang. I wasn't sure where to go, but ushers wearing white gloves were placed around the sanctuary guiding people first to the guest book, then down the right aisle and past the open casket in front of the pulpit and finally to the remaining seats. Other ushers were stationed around the room with boxes of handkerchiefs, glasses of water and paper fans. The air conditioning was running, but it couldn't keep up with the blazing temperature inside the church. People took turns fanning Helen's family. The choir kept singing, shifting from foot to foot, sometimes lifting their hands. I learned during the service that Helen had joined the choir just a few months before her death.

Several ushers asked if I needed help. I realized later they probably assumed I was a reporter because all the other white people who were there seemed to be with the press. I sat on a folding chair and self-consciously glanced around the room. On the wall was a cardboard poster with big black Magic Marker lettering at the top: New Members. About 10 nearly identical pictures showed men and women of all ages standing before a blank white wall. Helen's picture was missing; it was probably the one I'd seen on television.

The choir stilled and the service began. After prayers and scripture readings, the Rev. Bernard Taylor asked those who were going to speak to respect the feelings of the family and not add to their burden. The new Mayor Anthony Williams, who hasn't been able to connect with Southeast as well as Marion Barry did, told the congregation he would "redouble" his efforts against crime. Council member Kevin Chavous' representative said, simply and eloquently, "I know what it's like around here, and I'm sorry."

Rep. Eleanor Holmes Norton, Washington's non-voting member of the House of Representatives, came to the pulpit and, at first, could hardly be heard. But then her voice rose and her fist became clenched. "I've come this morning to tell you that the death of Helen Foster-El has shook this city. And I've come to tell you that it must do more. Her death must inspire this town."

The funeral became a rally and a victory celebration for what Helen had achieved. "Here was a women so good that her instincts were not what ours would have been in the face of gunshots," one speaker said. "The instinct is to hit the ground. Her instinct was to go for the children. Our instinct must be to go for the children."

Rev. Taylor preached to the mayor and to the reporters, stepping back from the pulpit at the end of each phrase so the crowd had time to absorb his words. "I've often asked myself: How long? How many more must die before our government leaders and politicians stop just showing up to make speeches, but get mad enough to do what needs to be done?" By then, the mourners were on their feet, shouting, "Amen!"

And then he corrected the Post's headline from earlier in the week. "I've read that Helen Foster-El was an innocent bystander. She was no bystander. A bystander is somebody who is just there and happens to get hit.

"She saw that something had to be done, and chose to get in the middle of it."

Next page | Will Helen's death change anything on the streets?