CARJACKING A TALE OF 2 LOST LIVES

One Teen Is Dead; Another Faces One More Trial

He lay there, a half smile on his lips, teddy bear near his arm.

In one hand, a dollar bill, payment from a friend who had borrowed a buck.
Tucked beside him, a bag of potato chips, rations for the journey.

Long before the Rev. Joe Jackson began his eulogy for 15-year-old Jamille
Julien, mourners had filled the north side funeral home, pressing into
corners. A line snaked out onto the sidewalk.

"I have mixed emotions being here today," Jackson intoned. "I am sad, and I
am angry."

Those who had seats shifted in them. Women dabbed bleary eyes; men pulled
at their ties; teenagers stared ahead through tears.

"How does one make sense out of the senseless?" the preacher asked. "No one
will ever be able to give you an answer why this happened. We can ask God:
'Why? Why?' But we may never get an answer."

Jamille was shot and killed May 25 during a carjacking in the parking lot
of Associated Bank, 5350 W. Fond du Lac Ave.

His friend, Chevis Maxwell, 17, also was shot. He was released from a
hospital June 5.

The suspected gunman is Cornell Reynolds, 18. Police are still seeking a
teenager they suspect as an accomplice.

Had the lives of Jamille Julien and Cornell Reynolds not intersected in the
Associated Bank parking lot, they might never have intersected at all.

One boy burned with energy; the other burned with rage.

Now the first is buried at Valhalla Memorial Park, and the second, if
convicted, would face life in prison, a different kind of death.

From the earliest days of his troubled adolescence, Reynolds struggled
with authority figures, illegal drugs, violence. School officials labeled
him learning disabled. He once got expelled for fighting students and teachers.

At age 12, he was sent to an anger management class at a hospital. Doctors
briefly put him on tranquilizers.

Reynolds' first brush with the law came at age 14. In November 1996, he was
on the streets, in the 1800 block of W. Nash St., near his home, when he
should have been in class.

Police took him to the Truancy Abatement Burglary Suppression - or TABS -
center at the Boys & Girls Club in Sherman Park. When his mother came, he
became "loud and profane" with her and the TABS officers.

"I'm not going any (expletive) where with anybody," he shouted before
leaving the building.

He kicked a police van parked outside, then ran from police. Officers
caught him in a nearby baseball diamond and took him to Children's Court. A
judge found him delinquent for disorderly conduct and placed him on
probation for six months.

At age 9, Jamille wandered into an after-school program sponsored by
Citizens Advocating for a Democratic Environment, and stumbled into what
would become a six-year involvement in Milwaukee politics.

"This boy was one of a kind," said Deacon Richard King Miller, CADE's
president. "When I met him, we were doing an art project. The kids were
told to draw a certain thing. But Jamille said we might get better results
if we let them draw what they wanted. He was right. I knew right then he
was a leader."

Jamille went on to lead youth campaign committees for numerous Milwaukee
School Board members and candidates, including Charlene Hardin, Leon Todd,
former board president Joseph Fisher, David Tatarowicz and Theodall Taylor.

"I knew Jamille before I was elected; in fact, he made it possible for me
to be elected," said Hardin, elected to the board in 1997 and again last
year. "I knew who Jamille was because he made sure everyone knew who he was."

The boy's words still ring in her ears: "I want adults to start listening
to me, what I have to say, what I think. I may even know the right way for
them to go."

Reynolds' father lived in another town, and then died about two years ago.

One of the few men with even a fleeting impact on Reynolds' life was a man
he called "Papa Joe," a Mississippi native named Vandiville Dixon who moved
here in 1959. Papa Joe used to call Reynolds "Little Bro," and he let the
boy keep pit bull puppies in the basement of his north side home.

Not long after Reynolds' outburst at the TABS center, police responded to a
complaint of drug dealing at Papa Joe's house. Officers found a small group
of people - including Reynolds - standing in the basement near a small
table covered with glass pipes.

Police searched Reynolds and found a $20 bill and 26 corner cuts of small
plastic bags containing crack cocaine. Reynolds claimed he had been asked
to hold the cocaine while Papa Joe went upstairs to sell some rocks to a
white customer.

Back in Children's Court, Reynolds was found delinquent for possession of
cocaine with intent to deliver.

Papa Joe - since imprisoned for selling cocaine - was charged with keeping
a drug house.

A judge put Reynolds on probation for one year, ordered him to receive
alcohol and drug treatment, and said he had to perform 36 hours of
community service.

Just weeks into his new term, Reynolds came home from school, grabbed a
7-inch butcher knife and headed back. When his mother tried to stop him, he
pushed her out of his way. She called police.

Reynolds told the police he had a short temper and "just wanted to get
even" with some boys at school. He wound up back at Children's Court on a
charge of disorderly conduct while armed. This time, there would be no
probation.

A judge sent Reynolds to the Ethan Allen School for Boys in the Town of
Delafield for a year. When he arrived, Reynolds was overheard saying he had
intended to "kill someone" with the knife.

Reynolds' mother said she gets headaches whenever asked about her son's plight.

"I'm not a psychologist or God," she said in a terse phone interview. "I
don't know why kids do what they do."

At Ethan Allen, Reynolds had numerous "security confinements" because of
his inability to respect authority figures and control his anger. At one
point, Reynolds wound up spending more than 280 hours in "room confinement"
for violations such as being disrespectful, being disruptive and disobeying
orders.

Early on, he was transferred to the Youth Leadership Training Center - the
juvenile "boot camp" at Camp Douglas. He indicated he wanted to graduate
from high school and enlist in the military. But he washed out of the
nine-month program after about two months.

He was shipped back to Ethan Allen, then to St. Charles Residential
Treatment Center in Milwaukee. He briefly worked at Gilles Frozen Custard
Drive-In nearby. But after he "threatened to kill" a staff member at St.
Charles and went AWOL, he was back at Ethan Allen.

"His lack of adequate anger management skills is a primary concern," a
corrections report states. "He expresses his belief that if he gets angry
he has no other choice than to strike out."

He remained at Ethan Allen until a month after turning 17.

Jamille joined George Watts' mayoral campaign at age 13.

"He was so upbeat," Watts said. "I can't pretend to know him well. It's
more of an impression. We shared the same energy."

When Jamille wasn't stuffing envelopes or making phone calls at Watts'
south side campaign headquarters, he was knocking on doors to get the vote out.

"There was no way you weren't going to vote if Jamille got hold of you on
election day," said CADE's Miller. "He would always say, 'I'm too young to
vote, so you have to vote for me.' If that wasn't enough, he'd drag you to
the polling place. He had the makings of a great political leader."

His efforts so impressed officials at the National Association for the
Advancement of Colored People that he was invited to join the youth
committee of the organization's Milwaukee branch. He was even recommended
for the group's National Youth Award.

One night last June, police spotted two cars slowing down to avoid hitting
Reynolds as he walked against a pedestrian light about 12:50 a.m. He had
his hands in his pockets and looked nervous.

He was riding, authorities say, in the front passenger seat of a blue Chevy
four-door driven by a 24-year-old man nicknamed "Dink," a triple felon
convicted of recklessly endangering safety, bribery and selling drugs. In
the back were two others, "Bubba" and Kevin, 16 and 13.

The group pulled into the parking lot of a Taco Bell. The discussion turned
to how they could "jack a car." A 1996 red-and-white Mustang ragtop
convertible with chrome rims caught their eyes.

Dink got out of the car to check how many people were in the Mustang. He
put up four fingers. Dink got back into the Chevy and drove to a nearby
alley, waiting for the Mustang to leave Taco Bell. The Mustang then pulled
into the parking lot of the bank.

Someone suggested the boys inside the Mustang might have "straps." Bubba
was "strapped" himself with a shoulder holster and gun. Reynolds had a gun
as well.

The boys in the Mustang were talking to some girls.

Reynolds and Bubba got out of the car. Dink and the 13-year-old boy stayed
inside.

Reynolds asked Chevis if he had any weed. The 17-year-old boy replied no.

A few minutes later, Reynolds pulled a small gun out of his pocket, shot
twice, then yelled: "Nigga, get out of the car. This is a carjacking."

All of the boys bolted from the Mustang.

More shots rang out. One struck Chevis in the chest. Jamille made it 30
feet before collapsing, shot three times.

Reynolds jumped into the driver's seat of the Mustang. Bubba got into the
passenger seat. The pair drove off.

In the distance, sirens started screaming. Paramedics arrived, only to
learn that Jamille's condition was "inconsistent with life."

Two days later, the burning remnants of the Mustang were found in the 2900
block of N. 22nd St., about three miles from where Jamille died. Police
arrested Reynolds two days after the shooting; they are still seeking Bubba.

More than 115 students asked permission to attend Jamille's funeral the
following Thursday. Two busloads - one from Sara Scott Middle School,
another from Bay View High School, where he was a freshman - came to the
Leon L. Williamson Funeral Home. Still others came in cars or on the city bus.

Many of the younger mourners wore T-shirts with pictures of Jamille
emblazoned across the front, with the dates of his birth and death: "May
11, 1986 - May 25, 2001."

Spray-painted or stenciled on the shirts were the phrases "Rest In Peace"
and "Gone But Not Forgotten."

"He made a difference in the lives of all he touched," Willie C. White,
CADE's executive director, said during the funeral.

In death, White honored Jamille for "undying dedication" to the community.
He was one of four local officials to present plaques to Jamille's mother,
Brenda Julien; father, Clarence Wood Jr.; and siblings, Kegan and Taniqua
Julien.

Jerry Ann Hamilton, president of the Milwaukee branch of the NAACP,
presented an award and said the wish Jamille had shared with Hardin was
fulfilled.

He had been heard.

"He made an impact on his peers, but also on us adults," Hamilton said. "He
taught us a thing or two."

As the mourning continued at the funeral home, Reynolds was in court. He
became the first person in Wisconsin to be charged under the fatal
carjacking law.

A day after the funeral, a handful of Bay View students gathered to
remember their friend.

"When I try to sleep his face just comes up," said Antania Nash, 18. "I
keep telling myself this is a dream. I'm gonna wake up. It's like he's just
gone to a different school. He can't be dead."

"It's just hard," said Wilbur Allen, 14, who had known Jamille since
kindergarten. "To be gone so quick."

Dominique Taylor, 16, noted that Flaming Hots were Jamille's favorite candy.

"He was always begging me for some Flaming Hots," she said.

Dominique and Jamille would often share whatever food or candy they
happened to have. Starbursts were another favorite.

And potato chips.

"I went and bought him some chips," she said. "When I went to the funeral,
I rolled 'em up real tight and tucked them into the casket. I told him, 'I
bought you some chips. I ate some, but I left some for you.' "