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Three years later, parents' pursuit of son's killer continues

They start where Michael died - on the stretch of redbrick sidewalk outside the St. Peter's Church cemetery in Society Hill. There, Carol and Mike Hagan lay sunflowers and pray for their son. Then, as they have done so many times over the last three years, they get to work hanging their fliers.

Mike and Carol Hagan still do not have closure about the shooting death of their son, Michael, in Society Hill three summers ago. (STEVEN M. FALK / Staff Photographer)
Mike and Carol Hagan still do not have closure about the shooting death of their son, Michael, in Society Hill three summers ago. (STEVEN M. FALK / Staff Photographer)Read more

They start where Michael died - on the stretch of redbrick sidewalk outside the St. Peter's Church cemetery in Society Hill. There, Carol and Mike Hagan lay sunflowers and pray for their son. Then, as they have done so many times over the last three years, they get to work hanging their fliers.

The fliers bear a smiling photo of Michael, offer a $50,000 reward, and pose a simple, heartbreaking question: "Who shot and killed me?"

It is a question that has tortured the couple ever since that awful morning three summers ago, when two Philadelphia homicide detectives pulled up to their Pennsauken home. Mike was watering the flower pots. Carol was getting ready for Mass.

"Do you have a son named Michael?" one of the detectives asked. And with that, everything was shattered.

Now, they struggle each day to pick up the pieces of a life without Michael, their firstborn, a 32-year-old Drexel grad who was building a life he loved in Philadelphia - an ever-growing circle of friends, a fulfilling IT consulting job, a newly renovated home in Fishtown - when he was gunned down early July 1, 2012, near South Street after a night out with friends.

Now his parents walk every few months through Society Hill and Queen Village and South Philadelphia and Center City, posting the fliers, refusing to let time weaken their commitment to helping police catch their son's killer. To not letting people forget about Michael. To finding answers.

There are so many they don't have.

This much police know. Michael and two friends spent that Saturday night at Morgan's Pier, a beer garden on the waterfront. They hopped in a cab to go to South Street, but the streets were packed for the holiday weekend fireworks, so they walked, getting split up in South Street's closing time crowds.

Michael was walking along dimly lit Fourth Street, past St. Peter's, perhaps to find a lost friend who had drunk too much. A homeless man told police he thought he heard loud voices and a gunshot. A bicyclist found Michael on the sidewalk, bleeding from a bullet wound to his chest.

There were no witnesses. Video from nearby homes and stores captured footage of Michael and his friends, but not of the attack. Police believe it was an attempted robbery. Detectives worked the streets, scoured over video, searched for robbery patterns or anyone who could have info. Nothing.

The Hagans - he's a retired cement mason, she works with autistic children - boosted the $20,000 reward the city offers in every homicide to $50,000.

The tip line never rang.

At first, the detective on the case phoned the Hagans once a week, then twice a month, then every six to eight weeks.

"There was nothing new to update," Carol Hagan said, her voice catching when she talks about Michael, as if a fresh jab of pain has stolen her breath.

Last month, the Hagans were informed the case was heading to a cold case unit for a fresh look. They are hoping it could lead to a break.

At this point, solving the case will likely come down to a tip from someone the killer bragged to - someone looking to cash in or cut a deal with cops, said Lt. Philip Riehl, who is in charge of the investigation. Fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money.

"This person told somebody about this. We need to find that person," he said.

In the days after their son's killing, the Hagans knocked on doors, looking for witnesses or surveillance footage. For a time, they posted the reward on donated billboard space along I-95. They took ads out on the Market-Frankford El for as long as they could afford them.

When those steps didn't bring in any tips, Carol Hagan called the tip line herself to make sure someone answered. Someone did.

Now, they hang their fliers. On that day last month, after laying flowers on the sidewalk to mark the third anniversary of their son's killing, Carol Hagan taped a flier to the cemetery wall. She knows the church takes them down quickly, but still.

They zigzagged through the neighborhoods. Fewer and fewer people they encounter on their walks seem to remember Michael Hagan's killing. "Don't give up," one woman told them.

Then they went home to wait for a phone call that still hasn't come.

215-854-2759@MikeNewall