If Sookie had been in the pews at Agape Christine Center Monday morning, he would have been cracking jokes and making people smile.
The 19-year-old was in a casket. It was his funeral. And the tears flowed freely.
Tywan “Sookie” Turner, who was gunned down at a convenience store on Dixwell Avenue on a violence-filled weekend, was remembered by over 250 people at the Agape Christian Center on Monday morning. Pastor Gwen Crutchfield opened the funeral service with a joyful song. She encouraged friends and family to smile as they remembered the 19-year-old.
If he were at the service, “he’d have a smile on his face and be cracking some kind of joke,” Crutchfield said.
Through prayer and song, hugs and tears, Turner’s friends and family celebrated his life on Monday. By all accounts, Turner was a funny and sweet young man.
James Murphy, Turner’s ex-brother-in-law, was the first family member to speak. He remembered Turner’s dedication to his family, especially the way he would read to Murphy’s daughter every night.
Murphy also remembered the love that his ex-wife, Tamara Murphy, had for Turner, who was her younger brother. Tamara took Turner and other siblings in after their mother died five years ago from cancer.
“Sookie was Tamara’s heart,” James said. If she bought 10 pairs of jeans for kids, she’d buy 12 pairs for Sookie.
Unlike other victims of gun violence recently, Sookie (pictured) was known as someone who stayed out of trouble. He was still in school and doing well, according to his older sister. He didn’t carry guns or belong to a gang, she said. He participated in youth programs like LEAP and CTribat.
The night of his death, he was at a friend’s cookout in Dixwell. He walked over to a convenience store and was approached by someone he knew; during an argument the other man shot him in the chest. The police are still investigating the case.
Other speakers at Monday’s funeral took the opportunity to speak about the larger issue of gun violence in New Haven.
“Something has gone wrong!” exclaimed Bishop Eddie Lee Cherry. He preached at length about the disintegration of families that he said has led to an epidemic of youth violence. “This is why we have a lost generation!”
Fathers are no longer living with their children, Cherry said. “Without a foundation anything is subject to go wrong.”
Cherry gathered steam as he continued. With the help of the church drummer and organist, he brought members of the audience to their feet. He decried chemicals in fast food that make “12-year-olds look 19 and 20-year-olds,” teen pregnancy, and drunk and drug-addicted parents.
Cherry added that he wasn’t blaming Turner’s family for what happened to him.
“If we don’t get back to our moral conviction, more of this is going to happen,” Cherry said.
The packed house at the center was a testament to Turner, Cherry said. “I know he was a loving man because look at all these youth that we have gathered here today.”
As his sermon wound down, Cherry invited people to come to the front of the church, where they hugged each other and wept together as the choir sang.
As music continued, everyone in the center filed out past Turner’s open casket. Outside in the parking lot, hugs and tears continued.
Ernestine Smith, Turner’s former upstairs neighbor, remembered him as “always smiling.”
There were other constants about Turner, she said. He was always on his bike and always wearing a white tank top, no matter how cold the weather. And he was never involved in any trouble.
“I’m going to miss my baby,” she said.
As she spoke, Turner’s younger sister was carried, violently weeping, out of the center and into a waiting car, where she sobbed in the backseat.
As the casket was loaded into the hearse and the motorcade left to carry Turner to the Evergreen Cemetery on the Boulevard, Turner’s childhood friends Natasha Sterling (center in photo) and Lennox Bailey (at left in photo) stood on the sidewalk. Sterling wore a picture of herself with Turner on the back of her shirt.
Bailey remembered Turner as relentlessly positive and supportive whenever Bailey was upset. “He was always the person who would sit with there and talk to me until I started cracking up.”