Laura Glesby Photo
Laverne Watts-Boatwright with shirt & grandson's last Facebook post.
Photo contributed by Tayea Mittchell
Balloons on raffle bicycles spell out Trequon Lawrence's nickname.
Jay Portee’s last conversation with his best friend, Trequon Lawrence, spanned three text messages in 2021. The pair dreamed up a back-to-school celebration they wanted to organize for local kids.
One year after Lawrence was murdered at the age of 27, the event he had once imagined came alive at the hands of his surviving friends and family — filling East Rock Park with an abundance of school supplies, family activities, and memories of a man who died too soon.
Brightly colored backpacks, BPA-free water bottles, and other donated supplies filled multiple folding tables beneath the East Rock Park pavilion on Saturday afternoon. Family members grilled hot dogs and hamburgers. Passersby danced inside a crayon-themed inflatable bouncy castle. Kids and teens explored an entertainment truck packed with video games, run by On The Spot Entertainment, around the corner. A trio of bicycles awaited new owners from a raffle.
“I’m just happy to be able to fulfill some of the things he wasn’t able to,” Lawrence’s mother, Pashion Watts-Gaines, said quietly as she surveyed the festivities.
Laverne Watts-Boatwright, Lawrence’s grandmother, spearheaded the event as the founder of the Trequon Lawrence Advocacy and Accountability Foundation, a non-profit that aims to advocate for the surviving families of gun violence victims and carry out Lawrence’s ambitions to give back to his community.
East Rock Park was the site of many family gatherings for Lawrence, Portee said. The location seemed fitting for the bittersweet celebration.
Trequon Lawrence.
Lawrence, who was known to many as “Tre,” was Watts-Boatwright’s oldest grandson. He would show up at her house nearly every day, she said, even if she wasn’t home. She found out about his death on September 8, 2021 from a social media post by On Scene Media, which had filmed the crime scene and the ambulance. “They said his name. I fell to pieces,” she said.
Police still don’t know who killed Lawrence, who was shot inside a vehicle by the corner of Newhall and Division. Watts-Boatwright called for more communication and transparency between police and the families of homicide victims. She wants more updates — some sign to let her know that police are still working on Lawrence’s case.
“My boy was not about the streets,” said Watts-Boatwright. “I miss his sweet soul.”
“You never forget,” said Lashawn Gaines, Lawrence’s father. “Sometimes, you have sleepless nights.”
Pashion Watts-Gaines (Tre's mother), Jay Portee (his best friend), and Laverne Watts-Boatwright (his grandmother).
As kids dashed between stations to play video games and examine school supplies, Portee remembered his own childhood with Lawrence. “Me and Tre growing up, we used to walk everywhere,” he said. Wherever they went, Portee said, they felt that someone was watching out for them: “the block watch, beat cops.” Portee said he no longer feels that sense of safety in New Haven.
Lashawn Gaines, Tre's father, at the grill.
Lawrence had purchased a house a few months before his death, which had been a life goal . He talked often about investing, about financial literacy and wealth generation, his family said. He worked at Yale-New Haven Hospital as a patient transporter. At 6′2″, he was known as the “gentle giant.” He had an entrepreneurial streak since his childhood; he’d sell candy bars to classmates at school. School came naturally to him. At Southern Connecticut State University, he made the Dean’s list in his first semester.
He was a “big teddy bear,” recalled Portee, who’d been best friends with Lawrence since their middle school years at Wexler Grant. “He loved to eat, have a good time. He really appreciated life and the finer things about it.”
The family reprinted Lawrence’s last Facebook post, from the day of his death, on hundreds of T‑shirts to be handed out: “Another day, Another Opportunity to Be 1% Better Than Yesterday.”
Annie Decker encountered this message by chance on Saturday, when she took her two young kids to the East Rock Park playground. She hasn’t personally lost anyone to gun violence, she said, but she worries about her kids’ safety and expressed support for the Foundation’s healing mission.
Annie Decker and her 1-year-old.
As Decker and her kids explored the event, Lawrence’s 10-year-old son, also named Trequon, wandered around in blue glasses with his aunts.
Trequon Jr.‘s smile is an echo of his father’s, said Watts-Gaines. “He left a little piece of him.”
Trequon Lawrence Jr. (10), left, with Kendall Washington (Tre's 14-year-old cousin) and Trinity Gaias (his 11-year-old sister).
Thank you to the friends and family who created the Trequon Lawrence Advocacy and Accountability Foundation, in response to the grief in the loss of their loved one. They turned their pain and anger into positivity and action to make this world and our little city and better and safer and kinder place. Through this event they made Trequon Lawrence‘s dream come true and gave back to the community and inspiration to others that it is far better to take action in a positive direction that seeks to prevent violence and to heal, rather than to retaliate for his murder.