A Life Of Promise, A Death Of Mystery -- 4 Months Later, Killing Of Teen Baffles Police

John McGregor's world is chronicled in the black-and-white photos that fill his mother's home.

On the living-room wall: artistic shots of McGregor's South Seattle neighborhood, the facade of Garfield High School, poses with friends.

In a photo album on the coffee table: nature scenes from nearby Kubota Gardens, carefully timed self-portraits of McGregor shooting layups in his driveway, more poses with friends.

For Kate McGregor, John's mother, the 16-year-old's photos have become vivid reminders of his passion for life - a life that ended four months ago with a single gunshot to his head. His body was found in the soft early light of a September morning, a block and a half from home.

Police have no witnesses and are baffled by the killing of an affable, clean-living young man who, by all accounts, had no enemies. Detectives would welcome help from anyone who might have information about the seemingly senseless killing.

In an era when some homicide victims draw media attention from near and far, the story of John McGregor's life and death went largely untold, captured only in brief newspaper items and television reports.

But in the circles McGregor touched, his death has left a void noted in high-school memorials, signed poster-boards of tribute and memories of a quiet young man who opened up easily to those who knew him.

McGregor was an independent, easygoing young man, sometimes serious, sometimes joking but always creatively studying the world around him.

One friend wrote in tribute: "I'll always remember you as you were: strong, powerful, young, black, positive . . ."

A day like any other

Friday, Sept. 22, began like any other day in the McGregor home, a two-story house on a quiet block of 54th Avenue South, just south of Rainier Beach.

After starting the morning with his mother, John headed off to Garfield, where he had just begun his junior year. He passed the day in class, sharing an especially upbeat lunch with friends.

McGregor, a big kid over 6 feet tall and 220 pounds, had a contagious laugh and deep voice.

At lunch, they talked about rap, which consumed McGregor. He'd rap about anything, a stream-of-consciousness rhythmic essay about his life and the world around him. Like his personality, friends say, his rap was never negative.

McGregor became an original member of Anonymous, a rap group made up of students from several Seattle high schools. Sometimes improvising to the group's hip-hop beat, he helped to spread its message: working to make the world a better place.

"He was about being positive, with words," said friend Irving Nicholas, a fellow Anonymous rapper. "He was about creating ways to express himself."

He dreamed about making it as a rap artist or maybe as a photographer. He carried his mother's 35-millimeter camera everywhere, snapping pictures as he went. He was intrigued by architecture and engineering.

Get to class, he'd say to friends loitering in the hall. Graduate.

After school that Friday, McGregor headed to a part-time job at Taco Time in the Southcenter mall food court. When he was 15, his mother had encouraged him to earn his own money. She hadn't expected him to find work at his age, and was surprised when he came home one day with the job offer.

McGregor, an only child, shared a quiet, respectful relationship with his mother, who was rearing him alone.

"You've got to do something," his mother would say. "Get out there and be constructive."

McGregor had listened, volunteering his time at the computer department of Pacific Medical Center and helping to counsel neighborhood grade-school kids.

After getting off work at 10 p.m., McGregor headed out with friends - a party near Capitol Hill. McGregor was having fun, his friends recall. Rapping, dancing, clowning with pals. There was nothing wrong that night, they said.

Police, too, said it appears nothing McGregor said or did could have put him in harm's way.

But early Saturday morning, as McGregor was heading home, something happened.

McGregor had a friend's permission to borrow his car to go to the party. Afterward, he dropped off some buddies and returned the car to his friend's house, less than a mile from his own.

He went to a pay phone to make small talk with another friend. Then, at about 2:15 a.m., police believe, he started walking toward home.

He never arrived.

"Nobody saw anything"

Shortly before 8 a.m., a neighbor near the corner of South Fletcher Street and 55th Avenue South stepped out on her front walk to fetch the newspaper. Across the street on the southeast corner, bordered by grass and shrubs, she saw McGregor's body lying on the sidewalk.

During interviews over the next several days, other neighbors told police they'd heard a gunshot during the early hours.

Police now believe the shooting occurred about 2:40 a.m.

Police don't know whether the shooter, who used a handgun, was on foot or in a car, alone or with others.

Police haven't been able to uncover a motive as to why someone would want to kill McGregor. Had he unintentionally crossed someone during the night's activities?

Police have been told some drug deals have occurred near the intersection where McGregor's body was found. But no one saw any the night of McGregor's walk.

Did he see something on his walk home he shouldn't have witnessed? Was he just in the wrong place at the wrong time?

"Whatever happened, happened under a well-lit corner," said Sgt. Don Cameron of the Seattle police homicide unit. "We've done the neighborhood. Nobody saw anything."

At about the time the neighbor spotted McGregor's body, Kate McGregor realized her son had not returned home the night before. He had a curfew. It was the first time he had stayed out that late.

An interrupted life

Worried, Kate McGregor drove to the home of one of John's friends, unwittingly passing the intersection where John's body was found.

When she returned home, police were waiting on her doorstep. Kate McGregor has not passed the intersection since.

Today, she still lives with signs of her son's interrupted life. Ribbons from his participation in swimming competitions hang on the wall. Only recently did she remove his size-15 shoes from underneath the dining table.

Three rolls of his film remain undeveloped. His mother is considering developing the photos, some of the last creative impressions of his life.

---------------- POLICE SEEK HELP ----------------

If you have information about John McGregor's death, call Seattle Police at 684-5550. Seattle/King County Crime Stoppers is offering a $1,000 reward.