Karter assured his friends that he had their backs.
By their very nature, news headlines are designed to do little more than skim the surface of the truth. But, in their few words, they also can construct a perspective or nudge us towards a particular position.
Take, for example, how Trayvon Martin was represented in 2012. Martin was the unarmed black Florida teen killed in a high-profile case that led to the acquittal of white neighborhood watchman George Zimmerman, in the process adding to the firestorm about racial profiling in the US.1 NBC News chose the following headline to run during its coverage of the case: “Trayvon Martin Was Suspended Three Times from School.”2 Not only have studies shown that black crime suspects are presented in more threatening contexts than white ones, but also that “news coverage can endorse the invisibility of certain groups and can enhance the visibility of other groups.”3 Headlines have the power to shape our thoughts before we even dig into the text of the article.
The first mention of Karter Reed’s crime that I came across during my research touched on how infrequently violent crime visited the town of Dartmouth, Massachusetts. The headline from the April 21, 1993, issue of the New York Times, “Model School Tries to Cope with Killing in a Classroom,” set up Dartmouth as a world away from urban violence, and Karter as far as possible from being a “model” student.4
In 1993, suburban schools were just beginning to face the challenges well known to schools in urban areas such as New Bedford, where many residents lived on incomes well below the poverty line, were part of single parent-households, and relied on social services to provide healthcare, childcare, and other necessities.5 Dartmouth was only a ten-minute drive from New Bedford, but the residents in the former thought of themselves as far, far away. According to one-time Dartmouth high school teacher Tom Cadieux, “There was an elitist element to the town.”6 Back then, Dartmouth was home to approximately 27,000 people—97 percent of them Caucasian—with a median income of $45,000, which in 1990 dollars was higher than the Massachusetts state average and almost twice that of New Bedford.7 In 1989, 5.7 percent of Dartmouth residents lived below the poverty level; by 1999, it was 4.6 percent.8 The town boasted four golf courses, three country clubs, one yacht club, and the exclusive enclave of Nonquitt, where oceanfront homes are still passed down from generation to generation. Dartmouth’s neighborhoods, with names such as Smith Mills, Apponagansett, and Bliss Corner, replete with old clapboard houses, sprawling landscaped yards, and pristine beaches, had always defined traditional New England charm. While the town had its share of middle-class and blue-collar residents, crime was not part of the picture typically painted of Dartmouth.9
The town had always prided itself on its famous marching band, sports teams (several professional baseball and football players were among Dartmouth High alumni), and the quality of its schools.10 Not everything was as it was portrayed to be, however. Although Dartmouth High was considered the best school in the area, it ranked in the middle of the state’s public high school schools in terms of achievement scores.11 The school’s graduation rate was only 66.9 percent, compared to the state average of 88 percent.12 The school had recently enrolled more children of fishermen and construction workers from some of Dartmouth’s less affluent areas.13 Some residents feared that these new arrivals, including a few who had moved from New Bedford, might lower the quality of the school and deter its aim of sending more students to college.14 Approximately 95 percent of Dartmouth High’s students were white in 1993—not surprising, given the population of the town.15 Although it was not spoken publicly, there were fears that welcoming students who did not fit the typical Dartmouth profile—i.e. “inner-city students,” (code for poor kids and children of color)—into the town’s schools was a mistake.16
Although the attitude in Dartmouth was that “violence doesn’t happen here,” the years 1992 and 1993 had seen a spike in violent crimes committed by students nationwide.17 Between 1980 and 1993, the number of teens killed in schools grew, and the juvenile arrest rate for murder more than doubled.18 Between 1989 and 1993, the number of adolescents sent to criminal court increased 41 percent; and if those juveniles were convicted of violent crimes, they were sent to adult prisons.19 More boys than girls, more blacks than whites, and more adolescents sixteen or older faced adult courts.20 This was the era in which William J. Bennett, John J. Dilulio, and John P. Walters would promote their theory of the coming of superpredators, warning that teenage boys from “morally impoverished families,” were bound to “murder, assault, rape, rob, burglarize, deal deadly drugs, join gun-toting gangs, and create serious communal disorders.”21 “Kids who kill” would be all over the news in the mid 1990’s, terrifying the country into believing that a “tidal wave of crime” was on the horizon.”22 While this horrifying and racially coded message would ultimately be proven wrong, it would cause forty-four states, including Massachusetts and the District of Columbia, to change their laws, making it easier to try juveniles as adults.23 As Dilulio himself would say years later, while the superpredator theory never came to fruition, it affected the climate of the country: “It was out there.”24
Despite this environment of fear, trouble still rarely visited Dartmouth, a place that attracted those who wanted to escape urban problems.25 Many in the town likely believed that violence only stalked schools in “bad” areas like New Bedford, or its sister city, Fall River.26 And so it was not surprising that on April 12, 1993, the doors to Dartmouth High were unlocked and unsecured. The long, two-story building was unburdened by metal detectors or surveillance cameras. Recent cutbacks in funding had eliminated hallway monitors, and no resource officer patrolled the property or hovered at bus pickups.27 Such measures seemed unnecessary—crime was low and the town police station usually received only a few calls a day.28 It was thought that a simple “No Trespassing” sign near the school’s front door would be enough to keep out those who had no business there.29
At 7:15 that morning, Gator, Nigel, and Karter were in Gator’s Hyundai on their way to Dartmouth High School. Snow was falling outside, and Karter was wearing a maroon and yellow hat, the one Nigel had worn the night before and disposed of after two girls teased him about it, saying it didn’t match his clothes. Karter also had on a blue shirt and jeans. His open knife was in his right pants pocket. He also had a piece of a wrench in his left pants pocket—a rod, similar to a metal pipe. He thought that if the other boys had weapons, these would protect him.
Gator cursed the cracked distributor cap on his car as snow pelted the windshield. Moisture from the rain and snow kept causing the car to stall, and the Hyundai hiccupped down Route 6 into Dartmouth. Karter later told me he was praying that one of them would say, “Let’s forget it.” But no one said anything as they turned onto Slocum Road, the street that led to Dartmouth High, and parked in a no-parking zone not far from a sign that read, “Buckle Up—It’s the Law.”
Inside Dartmouth High, the day had begun like any other normal Monday. Teachers were in their classrooms, getting ready for their students. Principal Donald King, who had been in charge for seven years, had not yet begun his affable daily stroll through the building, talking to teachers and students. Before rising to the top position, King had been a student, football coach, biology teacher, and director of guidance at the school, and he was in his office early that morning, before the homeroom bell rang at 7:30 a.m., preparing to meet with the vice principal, Albert Porter, and the chairman of the guidance department, Frederick Sylvia.30
There were undoubtedly mixed aspirations for the 1,140 students who headed into the school building that day, gathering around lockers and gossiping with friends.31 Some were probably hoping to score A’s on tests or preparing to give presentations; some were likely worrying about their SATs. Others were possibly thinking of whom they might ask to the prom. Still others probably imagined getting out of school early, hurrying down the spotless hallways