Trauma revisited: The Ben Wilson story
Touted as The Next Big Thing, this 17-year-old Chicago high school basketball phenom was gunned down before Legend could morph into Reality.
Magic. Michael. Kobe. Benji?
What’s in a name?
Legend. Glory. Immortality?
I’m a sucker for ESPN’s sports-related docu-drama series, 30 for 30. This week I happened to catch Benji, the story of Chicago high school basketball phenom, Benjamin Wilson, who was murdered in broad daylight near the high school campus in 1984 at the age of 17.
Before his Legend grew large. Before he reached prophesied NBA Glory and Immortality.
Coincidentally, five months before Wilson’s death, the Chicago Bulls selected University of North Carolina basketball star, Michael Jordan, in the first round of the NBA draft. The intersection of Chicago and basketball in the lives of Jordan and Wilson would forever underscore the fragility of hopes and dreams for an entire city.
Questions linger
Benjamin Benji Wilson died on November 21, 1984—the morning after his shooting on South Vincennes Avenue in Chatham on the South Side of Chicago. Wilson was the star player on the Simeon Career Academy high school basketball team, the defending AA State Champions entering his senior season.
Unfortunately, Benji never got to play a minute of basketball that year.
It is undebated that Wilson was gunned down during lunchtime while walking with friends on the sidewalk, just the length of the court from the Simeon campus. Likewise, eyewitnesses agree on who shot Benji Wilson. What is less clear—still, some four decades after his death—is why the shooting happened.
Two accounts
The prevailing narrative at the time was that Benji Wilson, a Black American teen, was shot while resisting an attempted robbery by two Black youths from a neighboring high school. Given the stature of the victim and the anonymity of the assailants, it’s not surprising that this became the “official story.”
In short order, Wilson’s assailants, Billy Moore, 16, and Omar Dixon, 15, were arrested, interrogated, charged, tried, convicted, and sentenced to lengthy prison terms. Case closed.
Or, was it?
According to the documentary, not long after the shooting another narrative surfaced—one that law enforcement allegedly suppressed, having previously obtained written “confessions” from the perpetrators. In this scenario, Wilson and his assailants argued outside the school store, within a block of the Simeon campus. When the 6’8” Wilson became hostile, Moore drew a 22-caliber pistol and shot Benji twice in the lower abdominal area in self-defense. One of the bullets nicked Wilson’s abdominal aorta, and he essentially bled out internally on the sidewalk.1
The 30-for-30 documentary
“Benji” was directed by Coodie Simmons and Chike Ozah. They did a great job detailing Wilson’s maturation from undersized bench-rider to budding hardwood superstar, but their presentation of the details surrounding the shooting introduced ambiguity. The directors did not overtly favor one narrative over the other, though they did include a paroled Billy Moore in the production to give his version of events.
Simmons and Ozah wanted viewers to weigh the circumstances surrounding a celebrity shooting, the details of Wilson’s substandard post-trauma care, and evidence suppressed before and during the trial, and draw their conclusion.
For what it’s worth
From a perspective far from the time, place, and events, the second narrative rings true. Here are the conclusions I drew from “Benji:”
The broad daylight robbery scenario seems far-fetched given the time of day (noon), the location (a public sidewalk, outside the school store, a block from campus), and the physical size of the victim (Wilson was an imposing 6’8”);
According to sources revealed in the docu-drama, neither Moore nor Dixon were gang-affiliated. Again, according to eyewitnesses, only one of the assailants physically engaged Wilson (Moore);
Both defendants recanted their signed “confessions” at trial, and reiterated the confrontation scenario and Moore’s shooting of Wilson in self-defense.
Eyewitnesses alleged that Wilson was agitated before the confrontation—he was said to be arguing with his girlfriend2 when he bumped into Billy Moore on the sidewalk, which escalated to verbal confrontation and, ultimately, gunfire.
True, eyewitnesses—including Jetun Rush, Wilson’s girlfriend—testified to the attempted-robbery-gone-bad scenario in court. But it is not beyond the realm of possibility that an emotional and angry Rush felt compelled to defend the father of her child.
Did anything good come of this?
Within two years of Wilson’s death, a movement to establish new protocols and trauma centers in Chicago’s South Side emerged. The University of Chicago Medical Center opened a Level 1 trauma center in 1986. However, the expense of such a center—and the inability of most of its clientele to pay—led to financial difficulties and the center’s eventual closure.3
However, the issue did not go away in an area where a disproportionate number of gunshot victims are both Black and poor. Lack of access to trauma care resulted in more gun-related deaths in these communities. After extended and ongoing community activism and cost analysis—emotional and fiscal—UCMC again opened a Level 1 trauma center in 2018.4
The untimely death of Benji Wilson was one of many that resulted in the push to reestablish trauma care on the South Side.
What do you think?
If you are unfamiliar with this long-ago story of violence and tragedy, watch “Benji” on ESPN’s 30 for 30. It moved me to cheer Wilson’s accomplishments and to weep over his senseless death, and the life-changing consequences for his assailants, friends, family, and the city of Chicago.
In the words of Robert Plant, Benji is the story of what is, and what should never be.
After a lengthy delay awaiting EMT arrival, Wilson was transported to St. Bernard Hospital, which lacked trauma facilities and trauma surgeons. Wilson’s treatment was delayed and he succumbed to massive organ failure due to insufficient blood flow. Subsequently, Wilson’s mother filed a lawsuit against the hospital, which was settled before the case went to trial.
Jetun Rush was also the mother of Wilson’s infant son, Brandon. According to sources in the documentary, there was lingering tension between the two regarding Wilson’s access to his son.
Gross, D. (2018, May 1). Chicago's South Side Finally Has an Adult Trauma Center Again. Newyorker.com. Retrieved February 1, 2024, from https://www.newyorker.com/news/dispatch/chicagos-south-side-finally-has-an-adult-trauma-center-again
U Chicago Medicine (2018, April 30). U Chicago Medicine begins adult Level 1 Trauma Care. Uchicagomedicine.org. Retrieved February 1, 2024, from https://www.uchicagomedicine.org/forefront/trauma-articles/uchicago-medicine-begins-level-1-adult-trauma-care