After a Shooting at a Rainier Beach Hookah Lounge, Community Members Express Grief, Fatigue — and Concern for the Future

By midday on March 31, the few physical reminders of the gun violence that occurred at the Capri Hookah Lounge the previous day were several strips of yellow tape that read "Police Line Do Not Cross": one tied to a chain-link fence, another piece knotted to a window grate, and a long strand heaped near a rear gate. But for community members in Rainier Beach, what lingered was the emotional toll.

"It's a travesty," Ron Brown said as he smoked a cigarette while waiting for the southbound No. 7. He sat at a bus stop near a bend in Rainier Avenue South. Across the street sits a bright-blue building with pink trim, which houses the Capri Hookah Lounge, site of the early morning shooting that led to the loss of two lives.

Brown admitted he didn't know the particulars of the shooting, but gazing at the building, his gray knit cap pulled low on his brow, he shook his head. "We don't need that," he said.

By "that," he meant gun violence and death in the area. Crime data from the Seattle Police Department (SPD) shows that by March 11 of this year, Rainier Beach had experienced five shooting incidents.

As for the particulars of the hookah lounge shooting, they were spelled out in a first-appearance document by SPD and presented in court by the King County Prosecuting Attorney's Office.

At approximately 3:30 a.m. on March 30, police were called to respond to a shooting at the Capri Hookah Lounge, located at 9232 Rainier Ave. S. When police arrived, they found a crowd of people providing aid to two victims. Ozzie Whitfield, a 23-year-old, was already deceased. Julius Rodriguez, an armed security guard who had turned 29 earlier in March, was still alive with gunshot wounds to his pelvis and lower extremities. He was transported to Harborview Medical Center and died there of his wounds.

Witnesses provided a description of the suspect and said that while the suspect shot the security guard, the security guard had, in turn, shot the suspect. According to the report, when the suspect fled, he was limping with an injury to his left leg.

Two hours later, police were contacted by someone at Valley Medical Center in Renton, saying a patient with a gunshot wound to the left leg had arrived earlier that morning. The patient, Leontai Berry, 25, matched a description provided by witnesses, along with imagery in photos and video footage taken at the scene.

Berry has been charged with two counts of first-degree murder and one count of second-degree unlawful possession of a firearm. He's being held in King County Correctional Facility on $5 million bail.

At the bus stop, Brown said he's lived in Rainier Beach for 38 years and that the community has dealt with more than its share of gun violence. He pointed just north of the hookah lounge to a concrete-and-brick pavilion. "There was another shooting there the other day," Brown said. 

In that shooting, which occurred Feb. 3, a 23-year-old man was shot and seriously injured. Close to 100 shell cases were found on the ground, including near the pavilion.

As the bus approached, Brown mused that maybe a bigger police presence would stop the violence. But as he stood to catch the bus, he said he knew why the shooting happened. "Young kids got hand-weapons," he said.

While it's unknown how many young people have guns, King County statistics reveal that last year, 61 young people, from newborns to 17, were victims of gun violence. It's a 45% increase from the previous year.

The bus stop was near a crosswalk, and moments after Brown rode away, Charlene Nicholson pushed the button to activate the crosswalk signal. Nicholson said she's only lived in the Rainier Valley for a year, and, like Brown, she confessed she didn't know the details of what happened at the hookah lounge. "But it's not good," she said.

Even with the shooting, Nicholson had good reason to frequent the area. "I like the Safeway," she said, speaking of a nearby grocery store where, last year, five people were wounded by gunfire. Then, she pointed north up Rainier Avenue South, two blocks from the Capri. "And the Jack in the Box there," she added, "you can walk up to the [drive-through] window and order food."

Nicholson said she limited errands to daytime hours, because she said it was safer than shopping at night. As she walked along the sidewalk to reach the store, the sunlight glinted off her necklace: a thin gold chain that held a tiny gold bar. Etched into the gold bar was the word "HAPPY."

Nicholson said she wore it because it reminded her to keep a positive outlook, though she acknowledged there was nothing happy about the shooting. "The only positive is if they catch the guy," she said.

When Nicholson heard the suspect had been caught, she touched her necklace and smiled.

East of the Jack in the Box Nicholson frequents sits a yellow building that houses a barbershop and hair salon called All in the Cut. Inside, Angel Callen spoke to a fidgety child as she braided the child's hair. Callen, who rents a chair in the salon, said she wanted to talk about the shooting, but she couldn't then. "I gotta finish this," she said, pointing to the incomplete hairstyle.

Speaking by phone later, Callen said her braiding business means she works 24/7, serving clients whose hours fall outside of the regular 9 to 5. A few nights before the shooting, Callen was working at All in the Cut well after midnight. What if she'd been working the night of the Capri shooting? "I'm just blessed to have not been there the night of," Callen said. 

She, too, spoke of how tragic the shooting was, but hearing about the occupation of one of the victims also touched her. "I couldn't sleep, because my son is also a security guard, and to know this could have happened to my son, or that he could've been working," Callen said, "it sent me spiraling."

Much like Nicholson, Callen said she was planning to stick to visiting the area during the day, only taking daytime clients. Yes, that might mess with how much money she could earn, but she said, "I don't want to put [clients'] lives in jeopardy."

Regardless of when she works, she said she has faith she and her clients would be safe because the owner had people pray over the business. "We got prayer over us," she said, "so we gonna be okay."

Speaking the following day by phone, Cortez Charles sounded tired. A longtime South End resident and community organizer, he said he was dealing with the emotional fallout of the shooting. "I'm exhausted from this consistent experience of being impacted and re-impacted by gun violence," Charles said. "And our young people leaving here far too soon."

The exhaustion was compounded by a personal connection: "One of the victims I've known from doing this work in the community."

Charles said he didn't want to point fingers and lay blame for this shooting or other ones. But he didn't support after-hours spots in the community. "Nothing good comes out of it," he said.

City officials seem to agree. Days before the shooting at the Capri Hookah Lounge, Seattle City Councilmember Robert Kettle, working with other councilmembers, Mayor Bruce Harrell, and City Attorney Ann Davison, proposed new regulations for lounges open after 2 a.m. Among the proposed requirements, after-hours businesses would have to maintain up-to-date licenses and permits, draft a safety plan, provide video surveillance, and employ two security guards. 

The Public Safety Committee, which is chaired by Kettle, will discuss the proposal on Tuesday, April 8, at 9:30 a.m.

Charles said he respected community organizations that respond to the impacts of gun violence, though he noted that those organizations aren't open when shootings happen late at night. Last summer, the King County Council passed Councilmember Girmay Zahilay's $1 million proposal for a gun-violence prevention strategy.

Charles said the hookah lounge shooting, and other past events, had left him, if only for the moment, in a difficult place — especially when he considered that as the year progressed, there could be more shootings. "Honestly, I'm really at a loss of words," he said, "and it's only April."