But offstage, life wasn’t nearly as glamorous. Like many transgenders, Evangelista had trouble finding a day job. She struggled with a persistent drug habit, and occasionally resorted to an especially risky form of prostitution–soliciting straight men on the street without telling them her true gender. In the early morning hours of Aug. 16, Evangelista was gunned down by a man police say had paid Evangelista for oral sex, then became enraged when he discovered Evangelista was not really a woman. A suspect, 22-year-old Antoine Jacobs, was captured fleeing the scene on a bicycle. Police say he told them that he fired only after Evangelista tried to rob him.
Evangelista’s killing was gruesome, but it wasn’t unique. In the past year four other transgender men have been found brutally murdered in the Washington area. Another was attacked and narrowly survived. Police say that so far, they have found no connections between the crimes. The unsolved killings have enraged the “trans” community, whose members call Washington a “deathtrap for the transgendered” and accuse police of giving the cases short shrift. (Nationwide, nine other transgenders have been murdered in the past 12 months, according to Remembering Our Dead, a San Francisco-based activist group.)
It began last summer when 18-year-old Deon Davis, who went by the name Ukea, and 19-year-old Wilbur Thomas, known as Stephanie, were gunned down in southeast Washington. In April, Kevin Young, 38, also known as Kim or Mimi, was found stabbed in northwest Washington. Then, late last month, four days after Evangelista’s murder, 24-year-old Dee Walker, known as Dee Andre, was shot near the U.S. Capitol. Walker survived, but is still in the hospital. Later that same night, police discovered the body of 25-year-old Aaryn Marshall, known as Emonie Kiera Spaulding, dumped in a wooded area in southeast Washington. They charged Derrick Lewis, 22. but have no motive in the case. “Right now, it’s all speculation,” says Sgt. Joe Gentile. Lewis’s lawyer had no comment.
In the absence of arrests, the police have tried to calm nerves by increasing the visibility of its recently formed Gay and Lesbian Liaison Unit. Originally intended as an outreach office to smooth tensions between cops and the gay community, it now investigates hate crimes. Sgt. Brett Parson, the unit’s tough, gay leader, was the city’s top drug cop. He says he spends a lot of time teaching compassion to fellow officers–advising them, for instance, not to refer to transgender men as “it” in police reports. “[Transgenders] are very scared to talk to the police,” says Parson. “I mean, they live a tough life without all of this pressure.”
If transgender activists were hoping for an outpouring of support from the city at large, it has yet to materialize. Two vigils were held at the site of Evangelista’s shooting in the days after the crime. Friends and neighbors lit candles and created a makeshift memorial of pictures, teddy bears and sheet music of her favorite show tunes. By the next morning, someone had smashed the memorial to bits.
