Max
07-17-2003, 12:15 PM
Shooting victim hopes to change his life
Hedgpeth, Lynde
POSTED: July 15, 2003 10:47 p.m.
ASHEVILLE - Albert "K.C." Fleming has done some bad things, stupid things.
"You want to know how much drugs I sold, how much I smoked, where I got it? It ain't a secret," the 29-year-old says, lurching forward in his wheelchair to emphasize his point.
A month ago today, he was shot in the side at Pisgah View Apartments. The bullet injured his spinal cord, instantly making him paraplegic.
Fleming quickly, almost miraculously, learned to live as independently as possible. He returned home after only three and a half weeks in the hospital and rehab.
His life has other miracles, too, like his family, including children Lamar, Breanna, Aaliyah and Kacee.
And his wife, Crystal Fleming. It's a miracle she has stayed with her husband after everything he's done, he says.
The Flemings today spend their time waiting. Waiting to see if Albert Fleming can get government aid because of his injuries. Waiting for the resolution of pending assault charges against Fleming. And, mostly, waiting for police to catch the man who shot him.
As Fleming waits, he becomes a new man - part criminal, part victim, all human.
The criminal
A year and a half ago, Fleming was arrested in the shooting of an 18-year-old at Deaverview Apartments in Asheville. Three men tried to rob the victim, who was shot once when he tried to run away, according to police reports.
Fleming faced a felony assault charge, the culmination of a criminal record involving more than 50 arrests since 1990, when he was 16.
"I've done a lot of things in my past for no reason," he said. Things like driving with a revoked license, driving while impaired, assault with a deadly weapon. By 1999, he had 13 criminal convictions - all misdemeanors, he pointed out.
Fleming cooperated with police who investigated the Deaverview shooting, he said, because he knew he did not do it. The charges against him were dropped.
In the meantime, Fleming worked on his attitude. He started going to 12-step meetings at Life on Life's Terms, an Asheville program aimed at substance abusers.
"For a lot of our younger clients, lifestyle, more than substance abuse, is a problem," said Billy Gardenhight, the program director. Life on Life's Terms tries to help people addicted to crime and violence change the way they think and find purpose in their lives.
"We say addiction is habit, and so is good living," Gardenhight said. "It's sort of like retraining the mind to change your habits."
Fleming tried to change his habits of hanging out in Asheville's public housing complexes like Pisgah View and Deaverview, areas notorious for violence and drug activity.
But six months ago, he quit trying, partly because he and his wife were having problems, he said.
"If I had continued to go to that class, I would not be in this predicament I am in today," he said.
The victim
Fleming does not know exactly why a stranger shot him on June 16. It could have been a robbery, or it could have had something to do with his past, he said.
That afternoon, he went over to Pisgah View. He left the car, his mother's beige Cadillac, running while he knocked on the door of a friend who wasn't home.
As he walked back to the car, he heard someone yell, "There's K.C." Fleming saw a man coming toward him, loading a clip into a handgun. Fleming got in the car.
He heard two shots and put his arm up to block his face. The third shot flew under his raised arm and pierced his left side. His lower body went numb.
Things started happening all at once. He tried to dial 911 on his cell phone but only managed to press 9. His foot wouldn't move to reach the car's pedals, so he picked up his right leg with his hand and pressed it down on the accelerator. As he drove off, he still heard gunshots.
He ran two red lights and a stop sign. He managed to push 1-1 on his cell phone, but it fell out of his reach, and he couldn't press send. He could barely breathe.
Anthony Ellison, 16, heard about the shooting while hanging out at Pisgah View. As Ellison walked to his home, four-tenths of a mile down the road from the apartments, he saw the beige Cadillac in front of his house. He ran to check on Fleming, who had fallen out on the sidewalk.
"When I first came up, I saw bullet holes on the back of the car," Ellison said.
Just before Fleming blacked out, he heard Ellison say, "K.C., don't move. I got a blanket on you."
The human
The old Fleming would have retaliated against the man who shot him. But the new Fleming says his injury has changed him inside, for the better.
Losing the use of his legs does not bother him that much, he says. He does not wish he could walk. He wishes the police would find the man who shot him.
He reads the paper and watches the news, waiting to hear his assailant has been arrested. Since his release from Thoms Rehabilitation Hospital last Thursday, every person he talks to has a different story about what happened that day, a different theory about who pulled the trigger.
But the police have not told him their stories, their theories. He wants to know what they know about shooting. He wants them to call or visit him and ask him more questions about the case.
Police, who will not comment on the specifics of the case, say they usually keep investigative information to themselves.
"We work this case just like we work any other case," says Asheville police Capt. Tom Aardema, adding there are certain parts of case files that police do not discuss with anyone.
"I just feel like (the detective) is doing things on his own time," Fleming said. To speed things up, Fleming is offering a reward for information leading to his assailant's arrest. He says he will pay as much as $10,000.
"I don't want to have to take the law into my own hands," he says. "I don't even want to think on that level."
But the higher level of thinking involves more questions than answers.
"I don't know how to protect myself, how to protect my family," Fleming says. "This man just ran up and shot my car up, shot me. Who's going to protect me?"
When Fleming was in intensive care at Mission St. Joseph's Health System, his wife, Crystal, and his mother, Alice Fleming, guarded him by sleeping outside the ICU door. Alice Fleming stayed by the side of her only child, whom she raised by herself without moving into public housing.
"He ain't no perfect kid, but he's a good boy," Alice Fleming says. Like her son, she will feel better when the shooter goes to jail. Until then, all she can do is pray for her son and for the man who shot him.
"Whatever Satan breaks, the Lord will fix," she says. Contact Hedgpeth at 232-5953 or LHedgpet@CITIZEN- TIMES.com. << back
http://cgi.citizen-times.com/cgi-bin/story/news/38424
Hedgpeth, Lynde
POSTED: July 15, 2003 10:47 p.m.
ASHEVILLE - Albert "K.C." Fleming has done some bad things, stupid things.
"You want to know how much drugs I sold, how much I smoked, where I got it? It ain't a secret," the 29-year-old says, lurching forward in his wheelchair to emphasize his point.
A month ago today, he was shot in the side at Pisgah View Apartments. The bullet injured his spinal cord, instantly making him paraplegic.
Fleming quickly, almost miraculously, learned to live as independently as possible. He returned home after only three and a half weeks in the hospital and rehab.
His life has other miracles, too, like his family, including children Lamar, Breanna, Aaliyah and Kacee.
And his wife, Crystal Fleming. It's a miracle she has stayed with her husband after everything he's done, he says.
The Flemings today spend their time waiting. Waiting to see if Albert Fleming can get government aid because of his injuries. Waiting for the resolution of pending assault charges against Fleming. And, mostly, waiting for police to catch the man who shot him.
As Fleming waits, he becomes a new man - part criminal, part victim, all human.
The criminal
A year and a half ago, Fleming was arrested in the shooting of an 18-year-old at Deaverview Apartments in Asheville. Three men tried to rob the victim, who was shot once when he tried to run away, according to police reports.
Fleming faced a felony assault charge, the culmination of a criminal record involving more than 50 arrests since 1990, when he was 16.
"I've done a lot of things in my past for no reason," he said. Things like driving with a revoked license, driving while impaired, assault with a deadly weapon. By 1999, he had 13 criminal convictions - all misdemeanors, he pointed out.
Fleming cooperated with police who investigated the Deaverview shooting, he said, because he knew he did not do it. The charges against him were dropped.
In the meantime, Fleming worked on his attitude. He started going to 12-step meetings at Life on Life's Terms, an Asheville program aimed at substance abusers.
"For a lot of our younger clients, lifestyle, more than substance abuse, is a problem," said Billy Gardenhight, the program director. Life on Life's Terms tries to help people addicted to crime and violence change the way they think and find purpose in their lives.
"We say addiction is habit, and so is good living," Gardenhight said. "It's sort of like retraining the mind to change your habits."
Fleming tried to change his habits of hanging out in Asheville's public housing complexes like Pisgah View and Deaverview, areas notorious for violence and drug activity.
But six months ago, he quit trying, partly because he and his wife were having problems, he said.
"If I had continued to go to that class, I would not be in this predicament I am in today," he said.
The victim
Fleming does not know exactly why a stranger shot him on June 16. It could have been a robbery, or it could have had something to do with his past, he said.
That afternoon, he went over to Pisgah View. He left the car, his mother's beige Cadillac, running while he knocked on the door of a friend who wasn't home.
As he walked back to the car, he heard someone yell, "There's K.C." Fleming saw a man coming toward him, loading a clip into a handgun. Fleming got in the car.
He heard two shots and put his arm up to block his face. The third shot flew under his raised arm and pierced his left side. His lower body went numb.
Things started happening all at once. He tried to dial 911 on his cell phone but only managed to press 9. His foot wouldn't move to reach the car's pedals, so he picked up his right leg with his hand and pressed it down on the accelerator. As he drove off, he still heard gunshots.
He ran two red lights and a stop sign. He managed to push 1-1 on his cell phone, but it fell out of his reach, and he couldn't press send. He could barely breathe.
Anthony Ellison, 16, heard about the shooting while hanging out at Pisgah View. As Ellison walked to his home, four-tenths of a mile down the road from the apartments, he saw the beige Cadillac in front of his house. He ran to check on Fleming, who had fallen out on the sidewalk.
"When I first came up, I saw bullet holes on the back of the car," Ellison said.
Just before Fleming blacked out, he heard Ellison say, "K.C., don't move. I got a blanket on you."
The human
The old Fleming would have retaliated against the man who shot him. But the new Fleming says his injury has changed him inside, for the better.
Losing the use of his legs does not bother him that much, he says. He does not wish he could walk. He wishes the police would find the man who shot him.
He reads the paper and watches the news, waiting to hear his assailant has been arrested. Since his release from Thoms Rehabilitation Hospital last Thursday, every person he talks to has a different story about what happened that day, a different theory about who pulled the trigger.
But the police have not told him their stories, their theories. He wants to know what they know about shooting. He wants them to call or visit him and ask him more questions about the case.
Police, who will not comment on the specifics of the case, say they usually keep investigative information to themselves.
"We work this case just like we work any other case," says Asheville police Capt. Tom Aardema, adding there are certain parts of case files that police do not discuss with anyone.
"I just feel like (the detective) is doing things on his own time," Fleming said. To speed things up, Fleming is offering a reward for information leading to his assailant's arrest. He says he will pay as much as $10,000.
"I don't want to have to take the law into my own hands," he says. "I don't even want to think on that level."
But the higher level of thinking involves more questions than answers.
"I don't know how to protect myself, how to protect my family," Fleming says. "This man just ran up and shot my car up, shot me. Who's going to protect me?"
When Fleming was in intensive care at Mission St. Joseph's Health System, his wife, Crystal, and his mother, Alice Fleming, guarded him by sleeping outside the ICU door. Alice Fleming stayed by the side of her only child, whom she raised by herself without moving into public housing.
"He ain't no perfect kid, but he's a good boy," Alice Fleming says. Like her son, she will feel better when the shooter goes to jail. Until then, all she can do is pray for her son and for the man who shot him.
"Whatever Satan breaks, the Lord will fix," she says. Contact Hedgpeth at 232-5953 or LHedgpet@CITIZEN- TIMES.com. << back
http://cgi.citizen-times.com/cgi-bin/story/news/38424