The chauffeur pulled into an asphalt lot flanked by the skating rink and a dollar store with a large 20% off banner. Quanell X got out and made small talk with a pregnant television reporter, asking her when the baby was due. Cornisha's mother, Brenda, arrived with a large photograph. It showed a smiling girl, with a pink Dora the Explorer backpack, gazing over her shoulder.
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Houston's Quanell X, once a street kid selling crack, now makes his case on TV as a self- appointed spokesman for the black underclass.
The Nation | COLUMN ONE
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About 50 mourners -- teachers, students and relatives -- drove to the spot where Cornisha died. They cupped their candles in the breeze and huddled together to hear Quanell X speak. He called on "brothers from the streets, and brothers from the suites" to stand against urban genocide. Staring at some boys, he said he understood the urge to retaliate. He cautioned against it.
"We know this little girl is standing at the feet of the Lord. She was a dancer, God, and now she is dancing with you," he said. "But this girl was too young to die."
Men wept like children, and boys gazed blankly at the pavement. The camera crews packed up and left, and Cornisha's mother hugged Quanell X.
"I want her death to mean something," she said.
For a few fleeting seconds on the 10 o'clock news, it did.
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miguel.bustillo@latimes.com
