It was the beginning of May, and Heavynle Ceasar’s senior year at Leuzinger High School in Lawndale was shaping up to be an unqualified success.
Heavynle (pronounced “Heavenly”) was captain of the cheer squad, her grades were good and prom was just days away. She’d been accepted at a slew of universities, including San Francisco State and three others out East: Howard, Clark and St. John’s.
But on May 5, in an instant, the charming year was marred by a nightmare. On that afternoon, in her parents’ bedroom, Heavynle’s father aimed a gun at her mother, Lisa Brown, and pulled the trigger. Carlton Ceasar then turned the gun on himself and fired again — as Heavynle was struggling to open the locked bedroom door.
The apparent murder-suicide put an instant end to the after-school clubhouse feel of her home on Rosecrans Avenue, located across the street from Leuzinger High School. Nearly every day, a handful of her friends came to the town house to hang out — not only with Heavynle, but also her parents.
“They were pretty close to my friends,” she said of her parents. “My friends called them mom and dad.”
But Heavynle isn’t letting the tragedy derail her college plans. In the fall, she intends to head to St. John’s University in New York City, where she’s never been. She’s looking forward to getting a fresh start in a new setting.
“I’m excited, but I’m kind of scared because I don’t know too many people there,” she said. “It’s going to be a change.”
She plans to major in communications and dreams of having her own talk show one day, like Oprah Winfrey. Money, though, is a bit of a problem. Tuition at the private university runs upward $33,000 a year. Heavynle believes about a third of that will be covered by federal financial aid. She’s believes she’s on her mother’s life insurance policy, but said she doesn’t know much about it.
In any case, covering all the expenses in a strange new land is bound to be a struggle.
Heavynle has since moved in with her maternal grandmother in South Los Angeles. She tried returning to Leuzinger, but everything had changed. The halls were filled with well-meaning people who overwhelmed her with sympathy. And seeing the house across the street brought back a flood of wrenching memories.
She will, however, walk the stage for Leuzinger’s graduation ceremony on June 23.
“I’m really excited about it, but kind of sad,” she said.
Heavynle is a petite and bubbly 17-year-old girl whose easy smile reveals two rows of braces. She has not allowed the tragedy to sap her sense of humor, and delights in good-naturedly rib-jabbing her young-looking grandmother (age 61) about being old.
Her popularity at school extends to her teachers.
“She’s the kind of student that makes my job worth it,” said Brian Yoshii, the school’s longtime ceramics teacher. “Very appreciative, very pleasant. Every day says `Hello Mr. Yoshii,’ when she comes in, and `goodbye’ when she leaves.”
To illustrate Heavynle’s graciousness, he relayed a story. Shortly after the shooting, like many teachers at the school, Yoshii felt a strong urge to help her in some way. He gave her $100 to cover her expenses for grad night on June 16 – $85 for the trip to Disneyland, and $15 for the picnic. Later that day, she learned that the school would be picking up the tab for those expenses. She returned to his classroom and handed him the rolled-up cash.
Heavynle’s mother had worked at Hamilton Adult Center, an adult-education school in Torrance. She’d been attending California State University, Dominguez Hills, in Carson to become a special-education teacher. Her father, Carlton, was not working, in part because he was on disability. Lisa, her mother, had recently left him.
May 5 wasn’t the first time violence had visited the family. In fact, Carlton’s disability status was the result of it. Several years ago, a man tried to shoot him in the face near their home. The bullet struck his hand as he raised it in self-defense.
Also, two decades ago, before Heavynle was born, her mother’s brother died in a drive-by shooting at age 15. Lisa’s recent death means that Heavynle’s grandmother, Patsy Warner, has buried both of her children.
But despite the devastation wrought by Carlton’s actions, both Heavynle and her grandmother insist that he was a good man who was never violent toward his wife until the fateful day.
“My girlfriend had two boys, and if she had any problems with them trying to gangbang, I would call him,” Warner said. “He would try to put them on the right track.”
The apparent murder-suicide has not torn one side of the family apart from the other. While Heavynle’s maternal grandmother has provided her a place to live, her paternal aunt has been serving as a liaison between Heavynle and St. John’s.
“I’ve been explaining her situation to the counselors, so she doesn’t have to do all that legwork,” said Susie Fuller, Carlton’s sister and a human-resources manager at LAUSD, who has a master’s degree from Dillard University in New Orleans. “I’ve been through it.”
Fate can be cruel to victims of catastrophe. A couple of days after the incident, a thief broke into their home and stole three computers and a television.
Hardships notwithstanding, Heavynle’s grandmother has sought to ensure that she not miss out on the joys of senior year.
“That’s the way my daughter would have wanted it,” she said.
Prom took place on the day after the funeral, and it was Warner who insisted that the prom party proceed. About 100 people showed up. Heavynle maintained a brave face at the party, but finally broke down on the way to the dance.
Lisa was not only a mother, but a close friend. It wasn’t uncommon for her to accompany Heavynle and her friends on trips to the mall or to movies.
“There were like eight of them – they’d do everything together,” said Lisa Mims Wyrick, the mother of one of Heavynle’s friends.
Also living with the family was a foster child named Gloria. She, too, is a student at Leuzinger and now lives with Heavynle and her grandmother.
On the day of the incident, Gloria was at home and heard the parents fighting. She called Heavynle’s cell phone. Heavynle ran to her home from the school across the street, accompanied by her cheer coach.
While the coach waited outside, Heavynle went inside the house and tried to open the bedroom door. It was locked. She took a knife from the kitchen to jimmy it open. It worked, but when she pressed on the door, it was blocked by something. She heard a bang like a firecracker and ran back outside.
An hour or so later, the premises were crawling with police and the apartment was taped off. Helicopters thrummed overhead. The next thing they knew, Heavynle and Gloria were sitting in the back seat of a squad car.
“They asked us all kinds of questions, over and over and over again,” she said. “Our names, our parents’ names, our birthdays.”
Heavynle had initially planned to attend San Francisco State University, to be closer to her parents.
“I’m a momma’s girl,” she said.
Is she upset with her father?
“A lot of people ask me that,” she said. “I don’t know. … I don’t know.”