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A murder, a trial, an acquittal, and a father's endless agony

Ted Little, whose oldest child was gunned down on a Paulsboro street nearly 16 years ago, sees but one path to peace of mind.

Saleem Little (left) and his father Theodore Little talk about slain brother/son Rashaun Julius Nelson (pictured in foreground) at their Deptford home.
Saleem Little (left) and his father Theodore Little talk about slain brother/son Rashaun Julius Nelson (pictured in foreground) at their Deptford home.Read moreElizabeth Robertson / Staff Photographer

Ted Little, whose oldest child was gunned down on a Paulsboro street nearly 16 years ago, sees but one path to peace of mind.

"Closure can only come," he says softly, "if someone goes to prison for killing my son."

Rashaun Julius Nelson, 21, a former Paulsboro High School basketball and football standout, was riding a bicycle along West Buck Street on May 9, 2001, when he encountered two men and was shot once in the back of the head.

Investigators found at least 10 bags of cocaine and several hundred dollars on his person; the execution-style killing, as some news accounts described it, took place about 1 a.m. near a grassy corner of Buck and Pine.

Little, who was visiting friends in Cleveland, got a phone call later that morning. And he's been seeking justice ever since.

"Rashaun's killer is still running around free," says Little's son Saleem, 19, who can barely remember his big brother but whose left arm bears a tattoo in his honor. "We didn't get justice."

Two years after Rashaun's death, and after an investigation that included community and media events as well as a reward for information, a Paulsboro man named Barry S. Green, then 23, was arrested and charged with the killing.

But the credibility of a key prosecution witness did not hold up in court, and Green was acquitted of murder and weapons charges on Sept. 29, 2004. Charges against a codefendant, Jason C. Williams, then 22, of Paulsboro, were dismissed after another witness recanted.

"All of the evidence we had pointed to Mr. Green. We believe he was the person responsible," Gloucester County Prosecutor Sean F. Dalton told me last week.

"Unfortunately, the jury found there was insufficient evidence to convict. We obviously didn't agree with their decision."

Little, 53, didn't agree either. He says he can still hear the jury forewoman announcing the verdict, which he describes as sounding "like a scream." And while the case has been closed since the 2004 acquittal, he wants Dalton's office to reopen the investigation.

"The gun was never found. There was no confession, no video. DNA evidence was inconclusive," Little tells me, sitting at the kitchen table of his cozy Deptford home. Saleem, who's his youngest son, and Albert Williams, Little's stepdad, are close by.

"Do I know who shot him? No," says Little, who is disabled and delivers meals on wheels to senior citizens in the county.

Acknowledging that Green cannot be retried, he adds: "I am sure in my heart of hearts there are people in Paulsboro who know what happened, or have heard from the right people what happened."

"People do start to forget," Little continues. "That's why the Prosecutor's Office should put Rashaun's picture on their website, to remind people, because as far as I'm concerned this case is unresolved."

A father of eight and grandfather of 10 "with one on the way," Little shows me a dog tag that bears an image taken from a baby photo of Rashaun. "This is something I wear every day," he says. "I've got a picture of his headstone on my phone, too."

"He visits the cemetery," Williams, 79, says, referring to Gates of Heaven, Rashaun's final resting place in Clarksboro.

"But I can't," adds Williams, a retired refrigeration technician who lives in Deptford. "It doesn't bring me any comfort at all."

For 25 years, Little has been a respected youth sports and high school basketball coach in Gloucester County; currently, he's an assistant coaching basketball at Woodbury High, his alma mater.

He speaks with a father's pride about his children (Saleem is a sophomore at Howard University), but with unflinching candor as well.

"Rashaun was a good kid, very bright. He had a lot of personality, and he was a great athlete," Little says. "But when he was shot, unfortunately, his main source of income, and what led to his demise, was drug-dealing.

"I've been in therapy for four years to help me deal with anger management and depression issues," he adds. "It's been helpful. It's a process."

I sit down with Dalton, a recent widower, at his office in the Gloucester County Justice Complex in downtown Woodbury. He says he sympathizes with Little for having "lost a loved one in such a heinous manner."

But, he adds, the criminal justice system "cannot bring someone back."

Dalton notes that Rashaun's is the only county murder trial since he took office in 2002 that has not resulted in a conviction. And while Little told me he believes the clearance rate for county homicide cases is "abysmal," in the last decade 37 out of 40 homicide cases have been cleared by arrest, according to the Prosecutor's Office.

Little also finds it inexplicable that "they [the prosecutors] can allow the codefendant to walk scot-free and think I would be OK with that."

Dalton notes that the witness who implicated the codefendant and then recanted was Green's brother. "That was all we had" implicating Jason Williams, he says.

"We believe the man responsible for his son's death has had his day in court," Dalton adds.

"But we have advised Mr. Little that if he finds any information or evidence or anything that suggests someone else was involved or is responsible, we will do everything we can to follow up on that."

As for posting Rashaun's image on its website, the Prosecutor's Office says it cannot. The site highlights unsolved crimes, the office told me, and it believes this one was solved.

(My efforts to contact Barry Green and Jason Williams last week were unsuccessful.)

Little says it is difficult to live with the fact that his son - the mischievous boy who grew up to be a star athlete - was murdered.

Therapy helps ("It's been my salvation") as do the meals-on-wheels job and, particularly, coaching basketball, which he loves.

But sometimes while he's driving, a song comes on the radio and reminds him of the son he lost.

When that happens, he says, "I have to pull over" and wait until the sadness subsides.

Only then can Rashaun's dad get back on the road.

kriordan@phillynews.com

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