Questions plague family of slain musician Tyree Rowe

There have been no answers for the family of 39-year-old Tyree Rowe, who was shot and killed two years ago in South Los Angeles.

On the afternoon of Aug. 25, 2012, Rowe finished working on his music at a studio in Compton. He was supposed to go to his sister’s home in Mid-Wilshire for tacos; he never arrived.

An hour before sunset — about 6:30 p.m. — Rowe was shot in the head in the driver’s seat of his black Mercedes. Witnesses saw his car parked in several locations in the Manchester Square neighborhood before the shooting took place in the 1900 block of West 77th Street.

Police believe that more than two men were involved in the killing and that they ran to a waiting vehicle, possibly a light-colored van, then fled.

Since 2000, nearly 14,000 people have been killed in Los Angeles County. That’s the equivalent of a small town, or a rural California county. Many of the victims’ families never get the opportunity to sit in a courtroom to witness the prosecution of a suspect, to hear the details of what led up to the crime.

Rowe’s siblings hope they will get that opportunity. They think about the moments after their brother was shot. He rode to the hospital with only paramedics, no loved ones, at his side. By the time family members got there, he was dead.

Silence has stalled investigators, but they are optimistic that the recent renewal of a $50,000 reward could spur action.

“Sometimes it takes a reward for people to come forward and agree to help,” said LAPD Det. Bertha Durazo, who is investigating the case along with her partner, Det. David Ross.

There are many reasons witnesses are reluctant to come forward. People fear retaliation and don’t want to be labeled a snitch. In this case, Rowe could have known his attackers.

“If everyone knows each other, then it gets a little more tricky, a little more challenging,” Durazo said.

Although the passage of time can make an investigation tougher, it can also be an advantage. People may have moved out of the neighborhood and relationships may have changed. Maybe someone saw something and has held it in all these years. A guilty conscience is sometimes too much to bear.

“There were a lot of people who knew Tyree,” Durazo said. “That might have been good and that might have been bad.”

Rowe grew up blocks away from the neighborhood where he was killed. Just one square mile in size, it has had 65 other homicides since 2000, making it one of the deadliest communities per capita in Los Angeles County. Nearly all of those killed, like Rowe, were black men, shot to death.

Rowe’s family says he was trying to forge a new path. He was committed to a music career and had created his own sort of genre: ghetto metal. Rowe often talked about how he would provide for his family when he made it big.

“That was probably his first love, was his music,” said his brother, Darin McBride.

On “Street Dreams,” a track on which Rowe collaborated with rapper Earl Stevens, better known as E-40, rap is mixed with guitar.

“You know I can’t stop plucking them strings,” sang Rowe, who taught himself to play.

For his siblings, the lack of answers has kept his loss fresh in their minds.

“The fact that it’s still an open case,” McBride said, “it just lingers.”

Beverly Rowe thinks about the fact that her brother could have known — and trusted — his killers.

“The thing that bothers me the most is I know what friendships meant to him,” she said.

Anyone with information can call the LAPD’s Criminal Gang Homicide Division at (213) 485-4341. Those who wish to remain anonymous can call Crime Stoppers at (800) 222-8477

-- Nicole Santa Cruz

Photo: Tyree Rowe. Credit: Rowe family

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