MoxBlog

By Bill Brubaker and Fredrick Kunkle
Washington Post Staff Writers
Sunday, February 13, 2000; Page A01 LAKELAND, Fla.—Two days after he was charged with killing two men outside a Super Bowl party in Atlanta, Baltimore Ravens star linebacker Ray Lewis called one of his biggest fans--his high school football coach.

Ernest Joe had been expecting the collect call from the Atlanta City Detention Center. And when he heard Lewis's voice he immediately took charge, just as he had so many times as former coach of the Lakeland Kathleen High School Red Devils.

"The very first thing I said was 'Let me pray with you,' " said Joe, a Baptist deacon who is now an assistant principal in the Polk County school system. "I asked the Lord to give him courage to do what's right. I said: 'If something needs to be said, give him that courage. . . .' "

Then, after an "Amen," Joe cut to the point.

"I said, 'Ray, did you have anything to do with this?' " Joe said. "And Ray said, 'No, sir, coach, I didn't.' "

Atlanta law enforcement officials believe otherwise. On Friday, a Fulton County, Ga., grand jury indicted Lewis and two associates for the murder of Richard Lollar and Jacinth Baker on Jan. 31. Authorities are still searching for the two other men named in the indictment, Reginald Oakley, 31, of Baltimore and Joseph Sweeting, 34, of Miami.

Lewis was indicted for two counts of malice murder, two counts of felony murder and two counts of aggravated assault with a deadly weapon. If convicted of malice murder, Lewis could face life in prison or the death penalty. Monday, a judge will consider whether Lewis should be freed on bond from jail, where he has been held since his arrest.

Fulton County District Attorney Paul Howard said Friday his office will prove Lewis was part of a fight that led to the stabbing deaths of Lollar and Baker, but would not say if Lewis had stabbed either of the victims.

Lewis's attorneys contend he was a peacemaker, not a murderer, on Super Bowl night, helping to break up a fight outside a posh nightclub in the Buckhead section of Atlanta. They say when his stretch limousine left the club early on the morning of Jan. 31--filled with friends and other people he did not know--he had no idea anyone had been stabbed.

As an all-pro linebacker who was the National Football League's leading tackler last season, Lewis gets paid, and paid well, for finding trouble and sticking his nose smack in the middle of it. But the reckless abandon that drives him to throw his body into the path of a ballcarrier has carried over into his personal life, too. Even before Friday's indictments, Lewis has been served with paternity suits and accused of violent behavior.

People who know him have watched him become increasingly rich, famous, flamboyant--and troubled. As Lewis reached out to Joe on a pay phone, his trusted high school coach made hopeful plans to straighten the young man out.

"I had Ray promise me that he would come talk to me when this is over," Joe said in an interview here last week. "I told Ray: 'I'm going to tell you the facts of life.' "

Humble Roots

People who know Lewis in Lakeland, a small city in central Florida surrounded by orange groves and phosphate mines, say they would be shocked if the athlete known as "Baby Ray" was involved in the killings in Atlanta.

"I just don't believe that Ray Lewis was the person that took a knife and stabbed and killed anyone," said Clint Wright, Lewis's high school and middle school principal. All the same, Wright said last week that he was disturbed by the turns Lewis's life has taken since he left Lakeland in 1993 on the road to stardom.

"Oh, we're going to have a big pow-wow, Ray and I," said Wright, now an area superintendent in Polk County, Fla. "I don't care if he's 24. I'm going to say the same thing I said to him in high school: Make sure you make good choices. If you hang with dogs, you'll pick up fleas."

Lakeland isn't the sort of place where people step out in full-length white mink coats and white cowboy hats, Lewis's reported attire on Super Bowl Sunday. Lewis didn't have such extravagances growing up in Lakeland and nearby Mulberry, where he was a fun-loving, hard-working boy who was determined to play pro football.

His mother, Sunseria Foster, was barely 15 when he was born. His father, Ray Lewis Sr., was 19.

In his early childhood, Ray Lewis Jr. lived with his mother in Lakeland's sprawling Washington Park public housing project. The "Baby Ray" who ran around the weedy courtyards in diapers became a powerful young man who played football in the street, using a Dumpster to mark the end zone.

By the time Lewis was a teenager, his mother had married and moved to another state with two brothers and twin sisters, friends say. Lewis lived with his grandparents in a two-story house--not far from the projects--with a large yard and basketball hoop in the driveway.

His grandparents are church-goers with a strong work ethic, his former teachers and coaches say. Gil McKinney works in the phosphate mining industry; Elease McKinney is a retired elementary school teacher.

"Ray Ray," as Lewis's father was known, was rarely in the picture during Lewis's formative years. Ray Ray was a former football and wrestling star at Kathleen, and eventually he married another woman and moved to Tucson where he worked in the 1980s as an airplane mechanic. In Lakeland, he twice was convicted of battery against his wife, according to Polk County court records. They are now separated.

Like his father, Ray Lewis Jr. became a star athlete at Kathleen. He was a state champion wrestler and do-it-all football player, returning kicks and playing linebacker and running back. He also impressed teachers as the yes-sir, no-sir captain of the school's Air Force ROTC company.

"Ray always did the right thing," said biology teacher Raben Reynolds, now an assistant principal at Kathleen High.

An average student, Lewis struggled to achieve the minimum score on standardized tests necessary for athletes to gain admission and scholarships to college. After five tries, he finally achieved the necessary test score and called a coach at the University of Miami--where he would eventually attend college--soon after.

"Ray said, 'Coach, I think I made my test score!'" said former Miami defensive coach Tommy Tuberville, now head coach at Auburn. "And Ray was so excited. About a month later, he was on campus."

Hurricane Lewis

Lewis made an immediate impact at Miami, making 17 tackles against Colorado in his first game as a starter in 1993. "I might be the greatest player ever to walk out of Miami," he told reporters that day. Lewis became a two-time all-American in three years at Miami.

While Lewis did his share of trash-talking and nightclubbing at school, he was sobered by the tragedies that shadowed his life. He now wears tattoos to honor the memory of two Lakeland friends who were shot to death. One was killed by police during an attempted bank robbery. The other was described by police in media reports as a street-level cocaine dealer.

Lewis had other troubles closer to home. In 1994, Tatyana McCall, a Miami student who shared an apartment with Lewis, said Lewis hit her in the face and grabbed her around the throat.

A year later, Kimberlie Arnold, a Miami student who was then four months pregnant, said Lewis roughed her up in a campus parking lot. That incident occurred when Lewis tried to break up an argument between Arnold and McCall, police reports state. Arnold said at the time that Lewis was not the father of the child she was expecting.

Coral Gables police investigated the incidents, but never charged Lewis with any offense. Wright, the former high school principal, said he once asked Lewis about the McCall incident.

"I said, 'Boy, keep your hands to yourself,' " Wright said. "Ray said, 'Mr. Wright, I didn't hit that girl.' "

McCall later gave birth to Lewis's first child, Ray Lewis III, an event that evoked a pledge from Lewis not to make the same mistakes his father had. "I will never abandon my child," Lewis said at the time to a reporter. "I know how it was to see my mother struggle, the hard times."

With new responsibilities, Lewis announced he would skip his senior year at Miami to turn pro. As the Ravens' first-round draft choice in 1996, Lewis became an instant millionaire, clearing $1,118,220 during his rookie year. With his fiery style of play, Lewis became the foundation of the Ravens' defense, and the team rewarded him in 1998 with a four-year, $26 million contract extension.

As one of the most popular members of the team and of the Baltimore community, Lewis made a point of never forgetting where he came from or the darker moments that touched his life. As a Raven, Lewis has worn a T-shirt with the picture of a former college teammate, Marlin Barnes, under his jersey. Barnes and his girlfriend were bludgeoned to death shortly before the Ravens drafted Lewis.

But Lewis's personal problems soon caught up with his growing stardom. In 1997, McCall, who was expecting their second child, had to take Lewis to court to obtain child support. In January 1998, Lewis agreed to pay $3,800 a month to support the two children, according to Orange County, Fla., court records. Though the children reside with McCall, the couple also agreed to joint legal custody.

Lewis also has a 2-year-old daughter, Diaymon Desirae Lewis, with Towana Denise Poe, of Randallstown. In January 1998, Poe filed a paternity suit against Lewis. Lewis later agreed to pay $2,700 a month, as well as $29,700 in back payments to Poe, who has sole legal and physical custody of the child.

While Lewis paid more and more money on child support and legal fees, there always seemed to be more flowing in. In late 1998, after three seasons in the NFL, the Ravens gave Lewis his four-year, $26 million contract extension. He bought a frosted-brick $753,000 house with a pool on 2.3 acres, down the road from the Ravens' training facility in Owings Mills, Md.

Joe, the former high school football coach, and his wife had a glimpse of Lewis's lifestyle last September when Lewis treated them to an all-expenses-paid weekend visit.

"When we got off the plane a driver had our names 'Ernest and Cheryl' up on a sign," Joe said. "We kind of felt out of place, my wife and I, with that lifestyle. Ray treated us like royalty that weekend. On the day of the game, he sent a stretch limo to bring my wife and I and his twin sisters to the game. We sat in a skybox and after the game he introduced us to the players. Ray gave my wife and I an experience we never dreamed would come true."

Before leaving for the airport, Joe said he gave Lewis some advice.

"I told Ray: Keep focused, keep working hard, keep your head on straight and good things will happen."

What happened, two months later, was more trouble--this time, at the Windsor Inn outside Baltimore, an unpretentious bar and grill where "Meet the Ravens" nights pack in the crowds.

Catrice Parker, 24, of Baltimore, said a fight broke out as Lewis and his friends pushed their way through the crowd, shoving people and cursing.

"As I was turning to walk away, that's when Ray Lewis struck me across the face," Parker said. Parker, then a few weeks pregnant, said the blow knocked her into the bar. Another woman, Ericka Ury , 23, accused Lewis of punching her and grabbing her hair.

Outside, Lewis also threatened to hit a bystander with a bottle of champagne, Parker said.

Parker filed assault charges against Lewis and Eric L. Carter, a Harrisburg, Pa., man who grew up with Lewis in Lakeland and often visits him in Baltimore.

C. Carey Deeley Jr., a lawyer handling Lewis's case in Baltimore, said he has statements from at least 15 people at the bar who said Lewis had nothing to do with the scuffle. Carter's lawyer also said his client was innocent. The case still is pending.

On the night of the Super Bowl, Lewis was in the middle of another ugly scene outside a bar. In their only interview with Lewis before his arrest, police say he gave them the names of two men in his limousine that night--A.J. Johnson, a former Maryland football player, and Kwame King, a childhood friend. But police now say Lewis was trying to throw them off track: Johnson was in Maryland that night, and has been cleared by police. King has yet to be questioned by police or defense investigators.

In Lakeland, many of Lewis's friends heard about his arrest on the 11 o'clock news. And it kept at least one of them, his former high school coach, awake all night.

On Feb. 2, when Lewis called from the jail, Joe searched for some wisdom to share with his former star athlete. He fell back on the advice he's been giving his students for two decades.

"I said, Ray, you need to do what's right,' " Joe said. "And Ray said, 'Coach, I've done everything I need to do.' "

Brubaker reported from Lakeland, Fla., and Orlando. Kunkle reported from Baltimore.

© Copyright 2000 The Washington Post Company

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