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Stop Snitchin’

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Since 1999, when Ohio passed its anti-gang law, Akron has knocked out over 100 convictions for gang activity. Members are usually picked up for trafficking, break-ins, and assault, and V-Not dominates that list.

As 200 kids danced to Yung Joc and Juelz Santana at The Cage that night, Feaster and his crew surveyed the room for rivals — namely the Hilltoppers, who claim the string of barbershops, liquor stores, and barbecue joints along Copley Road as their home.

For months, the two groups had been feuding. They'd meet at parties and high-school basketball games to throw up gang signs, fight, and occasionally start shooting.

"They usually just shoot each other in the legs," Zimmerman says. "We don't know why they have a beef. They just do. It's a territory thing, most likely."

That night at The Cage, each gang made it clear through pubescent bravado that if the other didn't step off, there would be trouble. And there was.

As people began to throw punches, the room turned into chaos. The owners intervened and kicked everyone out.

Kids flooded into the parking lot. More fights erupted. As the Hilltoppers whaled on V-Not, Feaster and his guys knew it was time to make one thing clear — no one fucks with the Valley.

A V-Not associate would later testify that Feaster and at least two other V-Nots ran to the dumpster, where they'd hidden their guns. Shots rang out. Kids ran for cover.

After firing at least 15 rounds into the crowd, according to court records, Feaster and his guys ran across the street to the Board of Education parking lot. Among them was Earl Davis, a lanky 15-year-old, who seemed to equate blasting away at an innocent crowd with manhood. "You can't say I don't bust," Davis said before slipping his gun into his pants, according to court records.

As sirens wailed in the background, Davis' uncle Timmy arrived. He drove the boys back to Manchester Road, where they crashed at a V-Not hangout, playing video games before falling asleep.

Days later, Feaster got word that Shawrica Lester was dead. Two recklessly fired bullets had lodged in her back as she ran to her car. She died before she reached the hospital.

The news must have stung. Feaster knew Shawrica. The Lesters lived in the heart of V-Not territory. The two kids attended Buchtel High School together. The following week, he attended her funeral with other V-Not members.

Meanwhile, police collected bullet fragments from three different guns. They also tracked down dozens of kids who were in the crowd that night. "We jumped on this in the first 48 hours," says Detective Darrell Parnell. "At first, people were very emotional, and we got a flood of information."

Several witnesses saw Feaster firing into the crowd.

On the morning of February 11, police caught Feaster on Manchester Road after a brief foot chase. He was charged with murder, aggravated rioting, felonious assault, and participating in gang activity.

The following day, he appeared before Judge Linda Tucci Teodosio to deny all charges. "The Lester family has our deepest sympathies," said his lawyer, Jane DeLoach. "He's just sick to his stomach. He can't eat. He can't sleep. This whole thing has torn him up."

But his regret was short-lived. As prosecutors began to build their case, V-Not worked just as hard to dismantle it. Police still didn't have the murder weapons, the gang knew, so a case could be made only with solid witnesses.

Members began hanging "Stop Snitching" T-shirts on street signs. They jumped on MySpace, sending out messages that anyone caught helping the police would be killed. They even knocked on Sandra Lester's door, requesting a donation for Feaster's defense fund.

One by one, witnesses fell silent. "A lot of people probably thought, 'Well, if they killed Tuna, why couldn't they come after me?'" says Sandra Lester.

Detective Parnell expected such obstacles. During his decade in homicide, he's seen the power of Akron's no-snitching law.

Just two days after Shawrica was murdered, the body of 48-year-old Smitty Prince was found in an alley. He'd been shot at a party in front of "numerous people," who believed he was a police informant, according to court records. Twenty-four-year-old Jeremiah Rowe was charged with the murder. But when the case went to court, the key witness against him refused to testify. The murder charge was dropped, and Rowe was sentenced to five years for illegal possession of a weapon.

In November, Rexford Oliver was shot outside the B&J Lounge, the site of three homicides in the past two years. After receiving a tip, police picked up 21-year-old Brandon Travis. But witnesses have been reluctant to come forward.

"People will initially talk," Parnell says, "until they realize that those involved are close to family members. Akron is a small place . . . This is not a random thing. It happens often. The no-snitching rule is taught every day, even by parents. They fear for their children's safety. They'll tell them not to say anything, knowing that these gangs will jump on sons, cousins, brothers."

In 2005, Christopher Harris, a 23-year-old college student, was killed in a shopping-center parking lot after getting caught in crossfire caused by a beef over a woman. Witnesses refused to come forward after being threatened by friends of his killer, 19-year-old Anthony Norman.

"His people were walking around in 'Free Norman' T-shirts," says Lieutenant David Whiddon. "We were only able to prosecute that case because we found video footage of the incident."

Unfortunately, there was no tape of Shawrica Lester's murder. Though Feaster acknowledged firing a weapon that night, the gun he turned over to police naturally didn't match the bullets found in Shawrica's body.

By March, V-Not's drumbeat of threats forced police to move Sandra Lester to a new residence. But the offensive had been successful. Of the dozens of initial witnesses, only two were now willing to testify. Judge Teodosio restricted access to Feaster's hearings. She also refused to reveal the witnesses' names to Feaster's lawyer.

"This was definitely the worst case of witness intimidation I've ever seen," Parnell says.

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