They shared a name — but not a future. How two kids fought to escape poverty in Baltimore

BALTIMORE (AP) — Growing up in the streets of east Baltimore surrounded by poverty and gun violence, two kids named Antonio became fast friends. Both called “Tone,” they were similarly charismatic and ambitious, dreaming of the day they would finally leave behind the struggles that defined their childhoods.

One has. The other never will.

Antonio Lee was shot and killed last summer. In the weeks that followed, his friend Antonio Moore warned their peers about the consequences of retaliation, trying to prevent more needless bloodshed and stolen futures in a city that consistently ranks among the nation’s most violent.

“This s--- will keep going for the next 20 years, or it’ll stop,” Moore said at Lee’s funeral service in August. “Y’all gotta make a choice.”

Moore, 24, is a successful real estate investor and entrepreneur. He founded a consulting company that helps brands and nonprofits connect with urban youth. His accomplishments serve as a reminder of what’s possible.

Moore said Lee was committed to forging a similar path; he just didn’t have enough time to see it through.

How was Moore able to break the negative cycles of his youth while Lee fell victim to them?

It’s a question with no simple answers, but their disparate fates highlight the sometimes insurmountable challenges facing young Black men from Baltimore’s poorest neighborhoods and similar communities across the country. They live in a world where rampant gun violence often draws an arbitrary line between life and death, where the fight for survival is constant and trauma is passed down through generations.

And the hurdles don’t stop there: underperforming schools, limited job opportunities, inadequate public transportation, inaccessible health care, housing insecurity and an embattled criminal justice system that disproportionately locks up people of color. Guns and drugs are readily available. Hope is hard to come by.

Beating the odds is possible, but it requires an extraordinary combination of hard work and good luck.

Above all, it requires time.

——

On the afternoon of his death, Lee was washing windshields at a busy northeast Baltimore intersection when gunfire broke out. His loved ones believe he was killed over a dispute between rival groups from different sections of east Baltimore. No arrests have been made in the case.

Lee died about four months before his 20th birthday. A second victim survived his injuries.

Stories like this are painfully common in Baltimore even as the city’s homicide rate overall trends downward.

Lee’s life unfolded in forgotten communities suffering from decades of population loss and unchecked drug activity. He attended Baltimore’s underfunded public schools. Money was tight at home.

He came from a loving family, but his childhood was punctuated by tragedy. A brother was shot to death in North Carolina and a sister died from brain cancer. As the youngest child, Lee clung to his mother and surviving sister for support.

Several of his close friends were killed as teenagers, including a Baltimore high school football player whose death rocked the city two years ago when he was gunned down in his school’s parking lot less than an hour before a scheduled home game.

Lee mourned them all, and he was acutely aware of the danger he faced simply operating in his environment, according to friends and family. That’s one reason he was fighting to get out.

Statistically, he was fighting a losing battle. Black children grow up in some of the country’s poorest households. Compared to their white counterparts, research shows they’re significantly less likely to achieve upward economic mobility: About three-quarters of Black children born in the lowest income bracket will remain there for the rest of their lives. They’re also about five times more likely to die in gunfire.

Lee talked about moving to Atlanta or maybe Florida, somewhere he would feel safer. He just needed to save up enough money to make it happen.

He was constantly brainstorming potential business opportunities — everything from music production and real estate investment to trash collection.

He started working at McDonald’s and considered taking culinary classes. He loved to cook and bake. His funeral program listed some of his favorite dishes: pasta, chicken wings, banana pudding.

Lee was enrolled in one of Baltimore’s flagship anti-violence programs through the nonprofit Roca, which provides mentoring, job training, GED classes and other services. He was meeting with his mentor regularly; they last spoke just hours before the shooting while Lee was brushing his teeth. Despite having a mouthful of toothpaste, he answered the phone with his signature greeting, an enthusiastic “Hey baby!”

Wherever he went, Lee would show up well-dressed and smiling, usually sporting a spotless pair of Air Jordan 5s, his favorite sneaker. As an aspiring rapper, he kept his finger on the pulse of music and fashion trends.

“A lot of these kids, their souls are like vacant buildings,” said Terry “Uncle T” Williams, who founded a youth mentorship program in east Baltimore after his son was killed. “Antonio was really ambitious. He had a big heart. He stood out like a sore thumb for this reason.”

Lee’s optimism was contagious. He was curious and open-minded. He wanted to make his community proud.

“He was just so young,” said Brandon Taylor, a Baltimore attorney who represented Lee. “I feel like Mr. Lee was a damn baby.”

At the same time, he was forced to grow up fast, especially after his older brother was killed in 2019. Lee was grappling with a question facing many of Taylor’s clients: Was it worth carrying a gun for protection despite the risk of getting stopped by police?

“But fighting and violence, that’s not what Mr. Lee was all about,” Taylor said. “So when I heard about him dying, that kind of crushed this whole firm.”

Just weeks before his death, Lee met with Taylor about a recent arrest for fleeing police and traffic violations. Taylor shook his head, recalling how Lee sped home and climbed through a window instead of complying with the traffic stop.

After the shooting, loved ones were similarly left wondering what was going through Lee’s mind when he decided to wash windshields in northeast Baltimore, an area he normally avoided because of ongoing neighborhood beef. He was squeegeeing with a friend that afternoon.

Baltimore’s squeegee workers have long been a fixture at some of the city’s busiest intersections. Mostly young Black men from east and west Baltimore, they’re typically desperate for cash. But their numbers have been dwindling since a 2022 initiative from the mayor’s office sought to discourage the practice and banned panhandling in certain locations.

Lee must have needed supplemental income and decided to take a chance, loved ones said. It was a mistake he couldn’t afford to make.

——

While Lee’s death added to already devastating statistics, Moore is living proof of what happens when the pendulum swings the other way.

Moore grew up in the same forgotten neighborhood and struggling school system. He basically stopped going to class junior year, but he still graduated from high school thanks to a grade-changing scheme that was later detailed in a state inspector general’s report and led to districtwide policy changes.

As a teen, he spent most days gambling and selling weed, occasionally dodging gunfire. He was making decent money in the streets. And despite the near constant threat of getting shot or arrested, it was a familiar environment, a known quantity, a source of instant gratification.

But ultimately, the risks seemed to outweigh the rewards. Moore tried to envision a positive future for himself and started hanging around people who seemed like good role models.

He got a job at Chipotle, where he learned how to operate in a corporate setting and talk to customers. One day, he struck up a conversation with a man who worked in Baltimore’s wholesale real estate market.

“Hit me up when you’re ready to make real money,” Moore remembers the man telling him. So he did.

Moore quit Chipotle after about a year. By then, he was supporting himself as a property wholesaler, coordinating deals between buyers and sellers. It was a lucrative trade that required no professional license or college degree. Moore said his most important asset was his knowledge of Baltimore’s neighborhoods, crime trends, local politics and other factors that could inform investment decisions. The city’s glut of vacant rowhouses provided ample opportunities.

Meanwhile, Moore also began developing relationships with advocates and business leaders focused on improving conditions for teens and young adults living in poverty.

Moore said those interactions made him realize the value of his perspective — not in spite of where he came from, but because of it. He launched a consulting firm in 2021.

As a marketing consultant, he advises businesses and nonprofits on how to connect with a Gen Z audience. His current client list includes YouTube and the national anti-violence organization Everytown for Gun Safety.

Last year, Moore organized a collaboration between Everytown and three local Baltimore streetwear designers. During a recent visit to his childhood neighborhood, he caught up with old friends and handed out shirts emblazoned with the organization’s message: “STOP GUN VIOLENCE”

Moore was able to make it out of the streets, but he can’t escape the social media posts perpetuating Baltimore’s intractable cycles of youth violence. Some nights, he lies awake wondering how to stop them, grappling with complex questions that criminologists, public health experts and politicians have repeatedly failed to answer.

“It’s so easy to self-sabotage yourself in the city. It’s easy to stunt your own growth because that’s what the environment breeds,” he said. “You have to see a future and want it more — really want it.”

It was an uphill battle as Moore pushed himself to embrace the unknown. Aside from a few lucky breaks, he attributes his success to an inquisitive mind, strong social skills, discipline and drive. Those qualities may have served him well, but they’re not particularly unique.

“The thing is, there are so many more kids like me,” he said.

One of them was Lee, who considered Moore a role model of sorts. The pair developed a close friendship based on shared experiences and similar goals. In between watching sports, listening to music and going shopping, they talked about Lee’s future: how he dreamed of finding a lucrative career and buying his mom a house. Moore offered advice and support. He thought Lee was next in line for success.

Moore was visiting Chicago when he heard about the shooting. He rushed back to Baltimore, unable to shake the feeling that somehow he’d failed his little brother.

“I’m so mad he got killed because kids younger than him would have been influenced and inspired by him, too,” Moore said. “It possibly could have helped change a whole generation.”

——

A week after Lee’s death, family members organized an evening vigil in the heart of east Baltimore. Against a backdrop of abandoned brick rowhouses, they constructed a makeshift memorial with photographs from his childhood. They decorated nearby stoops with bunches of blue balloons and spelled “TONE” with cardboard letters fastened to a boarded-up window.

The crowd grew to around 100 people, filling the sidewalks and spilling into the street as Baltimore police officers watched from a distance. Mourners sipped from liquor bottles and lit candles while hip-hop music blasted in the background. They laughed and cried together, carrying out a series of rituals that have become all too familiar in Baltimore’s most underserved communities.

Moore walked to a corner store and bought candy for some of the younger kids. He visited with a friend who had recently come home from jail. He hugged Lee’s mom while she sobbed for several minutes.

Instead of inspiring others, Lee’s story had become a cautionary tale.

“Right now, this city is known for its pain,” said John Young, a local pastor who mentored Lee and officiated his funeral service. “The future leaders of this world are being eliminated.”

During the funeral, Young asked how many people in attendance had experienced similar tragedies before. Dozens raised their hands.

He used the moment to send a clear message to Lee’s peers, other young men on the brink of adulthood, caught somewhere between forgiveness and revenge, ambition and resignation.

“I want y’all to make a decision. Think about Tone and how you’re gonna remember him,” Young said. “How many of y’all don’t want to look in a casket and see yourself in it? Aren’t you tired of watching other people’s mothers cry?

“Tone wanted to change and he had the courage to admit it. … Now it’s your turn to do something for him — live.”

Moore, for his part, tries to live by example.

He remains immersed in the community that raised him, even when it feels like he’s straddling two worlds. He understands both sides of the equation, the challenges and the possibilities.

“Where we come from, we’re so lost, we’re not thinking our life matters,” he said. “But there’s a place for us out there. We don’t have to stay outcasts just because we were born into this.”

His insight comes from personal experience, but to many other young people growing up under similar circumstances, his accomplishments seem like an impossible pipe dream. Moore searches desperately for the words that will finally make them realize their untapped potential.

In a world where the future is anything but guaranteed, how do you inspire hope?

It’s a piece of advice he gave Lee countless times: “You are valuable,” he tells anyone who will listen. “You really gotta stay alive long enough to catch on.”

Antonio Lee's girlfriend attends a vigil for Lee, Friday, Aug. 18, 2023, in Baltimore. Lee, 19, was shot and killed while squeegeeing in Baltimore. (AP Photo/Julia Nikhinson)

Antonio Moore, 24, of Baltimore, hands out designer t-shirts reading "Stop Gun Violence" in his childhood neighborhood in east Baltimore, Monday, Feb. 26, 2024. Moore, is a successful real estate investor and entrepreneur who founded a consulting company that helps brands and nonprofits connect with urban youth. (AP Photo/Steve Ruark)

Friends and family of Antonio Lee set up a vigil for Lee, Friday, Aug. 18, 2023, in Baltimore. Lee, 19, was shot and killed while squeegeeing in Baltimore. (AP Photo/Julia Nikhinson)

Police officers question a boy during a vigil for Antonio Lee, Friday, Aug. 18, 2023, in Baltimore. Lee, 19, was shot and killed while squeegeeing in Baltimore. (AP Photo/Julia Nikhinson)

People look on as police officers question a boy during a vigil for Antonio Lee, Friday, Aug. 18, 2023, in Baltimore. Lee, 19, was shot and killed while squeegeeing in Baltimore. (AP Photo/Julia Nikhinson)

A friend of Antonio Lee wears a shirt and a hat honoring Antonio Lee following a funeral service for Lee, Thursday, Aug. 31, 2023, in Baltimore. Lee, 19, a squeegee worker was killed during a shooting as he panhandled in a Baltimore street corner. (AP Photo/Julio Cortez)

Jah Johnson holds a necklace displaying a picture of him and Antonio Lee following a funeral service for Lee, Thursday, Aug. 31, 2023, in Baltimore. Lee, 19, a squeegee worker was killed during a shooting as he panhandled in a Baltimore street corner. (AP Photo/Julio Cortez)

Friends and family comfort Antonio Lee's mother as she mourns her son at a vigil, Friday, Aug. 18, 2023, in Baltimore. Lee, 19, was shot and killed while squeegeeing in Baltimore. (AP Photo/Julia Nikhinson)

Antonio Moore comforts Antonio Lee's mother at a vigil for Lee, Friday, Aug. 18, 2023, in Baltimore. Lee, 19, was shot and killed while squeegeeing in Baltimore. (AP Photo/Julia Nikhinson)

A boy rides his bike during a vigil for Antonio Lee, Friday, Aug. 18, 2023, in Baltimore. Lee, 19, was shot and killed while squeegeeing in Baltimore. (AP Photo/Julia Nikhinson)

Antonio Moore, center, 24, of Baltimore, hands out designer t-shirts reading "Stop Gun Violence" in his childhood neighborhood in east Baltimore, Monday, Feb. 26, 2024. Moore, is a successful real estate investor and entrepreneur who founded a consulting company that helps brands and nonprofits connect with urban youth. (AP Photo/Steve Ruark)

Antonio Moore, 24, of Baltimore, stands in his childhood neighborhood in east Baltimore, Monday, Feb. 26, 2024. Moore, is a successful real estate investor and entrepreneur who founded a consulting company that helps brands and nonprofits connect with urban youth. (AP Photo/Steve Ruark)

Antonio Lee's mother is comforted while mourning her son at a vigil, Friday, Aug. 18, 2023, in Baltimore. Lee, 19, was shot and killed while squeegeeing in Baltimore. Lee and childhood friend Antonio Moore grew up together in the streets of east Baltimore, surrounded by poverty and gun violence. But only one would make it out alive. Moore is a successful real estate investor and marketing consultant. Lee was shot and killed last summer, four months before his 20th birthday. (AP Photo/Julia Nikhinson)

Antonio Moore, 24, holds a designer t-shirt reading "Stop Gun Violence" in his childhood neighborhood in east Baltimore, Monday, Feb. 26, 2024. Moore is a successful real estate investor and entrepreneur who founded a consulting company that helps brands and nonprofits connect with urban youth. (AP Photo/Steve Ruark)

Friends and family comfort Antonio Lee's mother as she mourns her son at a vigil, Friday, Aug. 18, 2023, in Baltimore. Lee, 19, was shot and killed while squeegeeing in Baltimore. Two kids named Antonio grew up together in the streets of east Baltimore surrounded by poverty and gun violence. But only one would make it out alive. Antonio Moore is a successful real estate investor and marketing consultant. His friend Antonio Lee was shot and killed last summer, four months before his 20th birthday. (AP Photo/Julia Nikhinson)

A photograph of Antonio Lee is seen on a program as mourners gather for photographs following a funeral service for Lee, Thursday, Aug. 31, 2023, in Baltimore. Lee, 19, a squeegee worker was killed during a shooting as he panhandled in a Baltimore street corner. (AP Photo/Julio Cortez)

MIAMI (AP) — Josh Bell hit a tying homer off Edwin Díaz in a four-run ninth inning, the latest costly meltdown by the struggling New York Mets closer, and Otto Lopez singled home the winning run in the 10th as the Miami Marlins rallied for a 10-9 victory Saturday.

Lopez sent a one-out grounder up the middle off Jorge López (1-1) through a drawn-in infield to score automatic runner Christian Bethancourt from third base, and the last-place Marlins (15-32) stretched their winning streak to a season-best four games. It was Miami's fourth walk-off win of the year.

“It was nuts,” Bell said. “The fifth, sixth inning rolls around, you’re hearing the ‘Let’s go Mets’ chants. I know their fans travel well, but it was nice to hear our fans cheer."

Miami was down 9-5 in the ninth before Jazz Chisholm Jr. singled to drive in Vidal Bruján, who led off with a double against Díaz. Bryan De La Cruz reached on an infield single with one out, and Bell hammered Díaz's first-pitch slider 428 feet to straightaway center field for a three-run shot that tied it.

“Definitely up there (in my career)," Bell said. "I think just the situation in the game, and then that’s a future Hall of Famer out there — best closer in the game. So happy to help our team win there, but first and foremost, I don’t think I’ve gotten a hit against (Díaz) in the big leagues.”

Díaz wasn't charged with a blown save because he entered with a four-run lead. But he's blown two consecutive save chances and three of his last four. In his past three outings, he's allowed seven earned runs, seven hits, three walks and two homers over 2 1/3 innings. The star closer with a $102 million contract has a 10.80 ERA over his last eight appearances after serving up four homers in 8 1/3 innings.

“I won’t lie, my confidence I feel is down right now,” Díaz said. “I’m making pitches. I’m throwing strikes. I’m trying to do my best to help the team to win. Right now I’m not in that capacity.”

It was Díaz's first outing at Miami's home ballpark since he went down with a season-ending knee injury there in March 2023 while celebrating Puerto Rico's victory over the Dominican Republic in the World Baseball Classic.

New York (20-25) lost for the seventh time in nine games — all against division opponents — and equaled a season worst of five games below .500 set with its 0-5 start.

Tanner Scott (3-4) picked up the win by pitching a scoreless 10th.

Miami had shut out its previous three opponents — including an 8-0 win over the Mets on Friday night — before J.D. Martinez ripped an RBI single off starter Braxton Garrett that scored Francisco Lindor in the first.

Garrett pitched 4 1/3 innings, giving up seven hits and six runs with five strikeouts and a walk.

Chisholm had three hits and three RBIs, including a solo homer off Mets starter Luis Severino in the third. Bell finished with three hits and four RBIs.

Severino gave up six hits and five runs in 6 2/3 innings. The right-hander let the Marlins back in it in the seventh when he allowed a walk, a run-scoring double and a two-out RBI single that made it 7-4. Reed Garrett replaced Severino and gave up an RBI single to Bell before retiring Jesús Sánchez on a flyout to end the inning.

Martinez and Starling Marte each had an RBI double in the ninth to give the Mets a four-run cushion.

Marte finished with three hits. Harrison Bader and Jeff McNeil each had two RBIs for New York.

Lindor went hitless while batting leadoff for the first time this season, replacing Brandon Nimmo — who hit third — in a lineup shuffle that manager Carlos Mendoza hoped would generate more offense and spark the slumping Lindor.

Lindor reached base on a hit by pitch in the first and brought in a run on a groundout that broke a 2-all tie in the fourth. He also struck out in an 11-pitch at-bat in the second.

TRAINER'S ROOM

Mets: Mendoza said RHP Kodai Senga (right shoulder capsule strain) will throw a bullpen Sunday as he continues to shore up his mechanics. ... RHP Drew Smith (shoulder soreness) will throw a bullpen early next week. Mendoza said Smith has been playing catch and felt no “pinch” in his shoulder area.

UP NEXT

Mets LHP Sean Manaea (2-1, 3.05 ERA) starts the series finale Sunday against RHP Sixto Sánchez (0-1, 5.96).

A previous version of this story was corrected to indicate that Chisholm’s home run came in the third inning, not the second, and to clarify that Díaz's contract guarantees him $102 million, not $102.5 million.

AP MLB: https://apnews.com/hub/MLB

New York Mets' Brandon Nimmo is congratulated by teammates after he scored on a single by Mark Vientos during the first inning of a baseball game against the Miami Marlins, Saturday, May 18, 2024, in Miami. (AP Photo/Wilfredo Lee)

New York Mets' Starling Marte is hit in the foot by a pitch during the first inning of a baseball game against the Miami Marlins, Saturday, May 18, 2024, in Miami. (AP Photo/Wilfredo Lee)

New York Mets' Luis Severino delivers a pitch during the first inning of a baseball game against the Miami Marlins, Saturday, May 18, 2024, in Miami. (AP Photo/Wilfredo Lee)

Miami Marlins' Braxton Garrett delivers a pitch during the first inning of a baseball game against the New York Mets, Saturday, May 18, 2024, in Miami. (AP Photo/Wilfredo Lee)

New York Mets' Francisco Lindor, right, is congratulated by Starling Marte (6) after Lindor scored on a single by J.D. Martinez during the first inning of a baseball game against the Miami Marlins, Saturday, May 18, 2024, in Miami. (AP Photo/Wilfredo Lee)

New York Mets' Harrison Bader (44) reacts after he struck out swinging during the fourth inning of a baseball game against the Miami Marlins, Saturday, May 18, 2024, in Miami. (AP Photo/Wilfredo Lee)

Miami Marlins' Nick Gordon, left, Edward Cabrera, rear, and Trevor Rodgers, right, celebrate with Otto Lopez, center, after Lopez hit a single scoring Christian Bethancourt to beat the New York Mets 10-9, in 10 innings of a baseball game, Saturday, May 18, 2024, in Miami. (AP Photo/Wilfredo Lee)

Miami Marlins' Josh Bell, left, celebrates with Bryan De La Cruz (14) after Bell hit a home run scoring De La Cruz and Jazz Chisholm Jr., during the ninth inning of a baseball game against the New York Mets, Saturday, May 18, 2024, in Miami. (AP Photo/Wilfredo Lee)

Miami Marlins' Edward Cabrera, left, douses Otto Lopez after Lopez hit a single scoring Christian Bethancourt to beat the New York Mets 10-9, in 10 innings of a baseball game, Saturday, May 18, 2024, in Miami. (AP Photo/Wilfredo Lee)

Miami Marlins second baseman Otto Lopez, center, is doused by Jazz Chisholm Jr., left rear, as Lopez does an interview after a baseball game against the New York Mets, Saturday, May 18, 2024, in Miami. Lopez hit a single to score Christian Bethancourt to beat the Mets 10-9 in 10 innings. (AP Photo/Wilfredo Lee)

Miami Marlins' Otto Lopez hits a single to score Christian Bethancourt to beat the New York Mets 10-9, in 10 innings of a baseball game, Saturday, May 18, 2024, in Miami. (AP Photo/Wilfredo Lee)