‘Elijaah’s not coming back from work’: Kansas City teen, Air Force recruit gave selflessly
John Williams, the vice principal at Martin Luther King Jr. Elementary School, still catches himself waiting for his nephew to hop in the car before driving to school in the mornings.
Elijaah Boston, a senior at Paseo Academy of Fine and Performing Arts, was supposed to graduate on June 3. A few weeks later, he was supposed to ship off to basic training for the Air Force.
Instead, the 18-year-old was shot as he walked home from his fast food job earlier this month. He only lived a couple blocks away. Kansas City police have repeatedly asked for the public’s help in finding his killer. So far, there have been leads.
‘Who would do that, and why?’
Boston was respectful and kept to himself, Williams, 36, said. One of his co-workers at Taco Bell said he was one of the “best-mannered employees they had.
The teen spent most of his free time at home with his sister and Williams, who’s had primary custody over the siblings for most of their lives. He loved to play video games with his cousins online, watch anime and talk to his girlfriend of more than a year. They celebrated each month together as an anniversary; he had even recently saved up to buy her a necklace.
When Boston was killed, Williams worried people would read headlines about an 18-year-old teen gunned down and assume his nephew was involved in illicit activities.
“That was not the case at all. Not even remotely,” Williams said. “That wasn’t his life, and that wasn’t his future.”
Police found Boston unresponsive in the street just after 10 p.m. on May 5 after responding to a shots fired call in the 11100 block of Hillcrest Road, the Kansas City Police Department said at the time. EMS declared him dead at the scene.
Boston worked full time at Taco Bell up until the weeks before his death — he cut back on hours to focus on his final weeks of studies. It was “an easy walk” from home, his uncle said.
He was about a block from work and still wearing his work uniform when he was killed.
As of Sunday, police said they still have not received any tips about the shooting or about any potential suspects.
Williams returned to work soon after Boston’s death, because when he’s not distracted, his mind wanders to the last moments of his nephew’s life.
“Was he scared?” he wonders. “Did he scream?”
“Who would do that, and why?” Williams said, his voice quieting to a whisper.
Bound for the Air Force
Boston had been a determined soul since his birth, coming into the world at 4 pounds, 2 ounces, his mother, Misty Moore, 37, said from her home in Wichita.
Despite the hardships at home through his middle school years, Boston was determined to get good grades, she said and he stepped up to help care for his younger siblings after his abusive stepfather left his mother.
Boston was who she called when she was having a bad day.
“You’re fine,” he’d tell her. “You’re strong. You’ll get through this.”
Boston started talking about becoming a pediatrician when he was eight years old, she said. That dream never faded. He planned to pursue a career in medicine after joining the military.
Moore believes his determination came in part from wanting to show his younger siblings what was possible, and from wanting to help children who’d been harmed.
“Elijaah didn’t like violence, and he wanted to make the world a better place,” Moore said.
Boston became enamored with the Air Force when he joined the Junior Reserve Officer Training Corps in the eighth grade in Wichita. He spent summers at JROTC camps, bringing a smattering of fun facts about the military home with him.
He wanted to do his part for his country, said Williams, whose father retired from the Army after 25 years of service.
“I know Papa wanted somebody to go,” Boston had said. “So I’ll go for him.”
Williams was helping Boston bulk up ahead of basic training, since he was a smaller guy.
One of his final steps was passing the Air Force medical examination. After that, he planned to get a tattoo of his father, whose picture he used to doodle in class.
Boston’s father, Williams’ brother, was incarcerated for much of the first five years of Boston’s life. He reunited with Boston and his sister when he got out, but he died a few years later of a drug overdose, Williams said. Boston was just nine.
Before taking up the vice principal’s office, where three master’s and two bachelor’s degrees are displayed on the wall, Williams worked as a school counselor. When his brother died, he took Boston to regular therapy.
Boston and his sister are only 10 months apart. For years, they shared common painful experiences.
“It’s always been us to, you know, hold on to each other through all of these traumatic experiences,” Williams’ niece recently said. “But now I have nobody.”
That broke Williams’ heart even more.
Dreams cut short
Angel Smith, 19, said she and Boston weren’t just cousins, they were childhood best friends.
When the father of her daughter left, it was Boston who helped her hold her head high, she said. She didn’t need a man to be a good mother, he encouraged her.
“Even when Elijaah couldn’t be there for himself, he was still there for other people,” Smith said.
She made a photo collage to remember him by. She shows it to her daughter often.
Boston dreamed of a family someday, Smith said. He wanted to be a father.
Williams is still in disbelief. Not even planning the funeral made the loss seem real for him.
So much of his routine included Boston. So much of what he still does revolves around his nephew. Now he has to constantly remind himself the young man is gone.
He no longer has to pick up an extra meal for his nephew. On the days it was Boston’s turn to take out the trash and feed the dog, Williams has to remind himself to do it instead.
He’s leaned on close friends in recent days. They come by to hang out, bringing food and laughter with them.
Williams’ youngest son is three. He keeps asking when Boston is coming home from work, peeking into his cousin’s empty bedroom.
“Elijaah’s not coming back from work,” Williams gently tells him.
Boston’s family will still throw him a graduation party. Williams is planning to make chicken Alfredo and cheeseburger casserole, Boston’s favorite meals. They’ll hang up graduation decorations, along with Air Force and anime memorabilia.
“I was most proud of how motivated and determined he was to do what he wanted to do,” Williams said. “With all the adversity and all the odds that were stacked against him and with all the traumatic experiences that he had, he just continued to persevere and keep moving forward.”
