May 25, 2025 • 20 mins
In this episode of “No Tears For Black Girls,” we take you to 553 Sheldon Avenue SE in Grand Rapids, Michigan—a mustard-yellow house built in 1903 whose creaking floors and weathered walls have borne witness to generations of family stories. Nestled in the city’s South East Community, an area marked by both steadfast home ownership and stubbornly high crime rates, the house seems to stand apart from the bustle of downtown life, its somber presence a silent sentinel on cloudy Michigan days.
On a cold Wednesday morning in March 2019, 25-year-old Keyona Griffin made a final, desperate call to 911 from inside that very home. “I need help,” she whispered, her voice trembling so faintly that the crucial words—“He already killed my auntie”—were never properly understood by the dispatcher. What followed was a tragic cascade of missed signals and lost opportunities, and a case that would come to define the Grand Rapids Police Department’s worst fears: a vibrant young woman and her beloved aunt murdered in their own home, and the alleged perpetrator slipping through every net, only to end up on the U.S. Marshals’ 15 Most Wanted list.
But this is more than a tale of procedural breakdowns and unanswered calls. It is the story of Keyona Griffin—a “bubbly and big-hearted” woman whose radiant optimism made her loss all the more heartrending—and Cherletta Baber-Bey, the gentle, nurturing aunt who saw only the best in the man she trusted. Through interviews with family members, law enforcement officials, and community advocates, we piece together the human lives behind the headlines and ask how a case so full of potential turning points could still remain unresolved.
Join us as we sift through the fragments of evidence, revisit heart-wrenching 911 recordings, and confront the lingering questions of accountability and justice. In “Shadows on Sheldon,” we don’t just recount a crime—we explore the people caught in its crossfire, the flaws in our emergency response systems, and the enduring hope that one day, those who love Keyona and Cherletta will finally find the answers they deserve. Tune in and walk the creaking floors with us—if you dare.
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
(00:00):
No tears for black girls when they disappear.
No tears for black girls like they were never here.
But we remember. We'll speak their names, their
stories matter. We'll break these chains.
(00:22):
No tears left to cry, just true to fire, just to delay.
The Yellow house at 553 Sheldon Ave.
SE stood a mile South of downtown Grand Rapids.
From the sidewalk, you'd first notice its broad front porch
(00:43):
with wooden railings weathered by Michigan's harsh seasons.
The two-story clapboard structure absorbed rather than
reflected the weak March sunlight.
Built in 19 O3, the home spoke through its sounds.
Wooden floors that announced every footstep with distinctive
creeks the family could identifyby person, radiators that
(01:06):
clanked and hissed in winter, windows that rattled when West
winds blew. The Southeast community carries
contradictions in its very foundation.
Once stately homes like 553 Sheldon stand alongside vacant
lots, Corner stores with bullet resistant glass operate blocks
from trendy coffee shops, signals of gentrification
(01:28):
creeping southward from downtown.
At night, distant sirens become part of the soundtrack, along
with buses rumbling down nearby Division Ave.
Neighbors here develop selectiveattention, knowing when to look
and when to mind their business.Not from indifference, but
survival. To understand what was lost at
(01:50):
553 Sheldon Ave. you need to know the women who called it
home. Jacqueline Baber Bay, 65, was
the gravitational center that held generations together.
Barely 5 feet tall with deep brown eyes that missed nothing,
she commanded attention without raising her voice.
(02:11):
For over 20 years, she worked ata local nursing home where
colleagues remembered her as thekind of caregiver who tracked
not just medical needs, but birthdays, grandchildren's names
and favorite foods. Her home reflected her nurturing
spirit. Walls adorned with family
photos. Refrigerator covered with
(02:32):
children's artwork. Cupboard stocked for Sunday
dinners Sherletta Baber Bay, Jacqueline's 47 year old
daughter, had lived in the Yellow House her entire life.
Friends described her as shy butsweet, with a laugh that burst
out unexpectedly like summer rain.
She took pride in her meticulously arranged collection
(02:52):
of elephant figurines and had only recently entered her first
serious romantic relationship. My sister was like a teenager in
love. Anya Griffin, Sherletta's
sister, told me, her voice catching.
She'd never had anyone before. She called me about little
things he did, bringing her coffee, walking her to the bus
(03:13):
stop, small gestures that meant the world to her.
What Charletta couldn't know wasthat these small kindnesses were
calculated tools of manipulation, wielded by a
practiced predator. Keiona Griffin, at 25,
represented the family's future.Born March 8th, 1994, she had
celebrated her birthday just five days before her murder with
(03:38):
warm amber brown skin and a widesmile revealing slightly crooked
front teeth. She hated them.
Everyone else found them endearing.
Kiona was the family spark plug.She organized celebrations,
created new traditions and dreamed aloud she was planning
to go back to school, her brother, Sanford Cummings the
(04:00):
Second, told reporters. She wanted to work with kids,
maybe become a teacher. She was always corralling the
little cousins at family gatherings, doing art projects
with them. On her phone later recovered
from the crime scene, investigators found dozens of
screenshots of apartment listings.
Keiona had been planning to moveout, to start her independent
(04:23):
life. She never got the chance.
Darryl Demon Brown cultivated invisibility.
In an age where most people leave constant electronic
footprints, Brown was a ghost. No social media, no bank
accounts, no credit cards, no registered phone, nothing tying
him to any specific location or identity.
(04:44):
Even his appearance was designedfor anonymity.
Clean shaven, average height andbuild, wearing nondescript
clothing that left no impression, Surveillance footage
captured after the murders showshim in a plain Gray hoodie and
jeans and outfit, blending in anywhere.
Born February 3rd, 1974, Brown grew up in Grand Rapids and
(05:07):
graduated from a local high school.
But his early life remains largely a mystery, one of many
gaps in a biography that seems deliberately incomplete.
What we do know comes primarily from his criminal history and
from women who survived relationships with him.
The pattern is consistent and disturbing.
(05:28):
He starts out as the perfect gentleman, explained Doctor
Catherine Wilson, a forensic psychologist I consulted about
domestic abusers who escalate tohomicide.
He's attentive, seemingly devoted.
Then comes isolation, cutting victims off from friends and
family. Then control, monitoring
movements, dictating who they can talk to.
(05:49):
Then threats, and finally violence.
This was precisely the progression described by a woman
Brown dated in 2005. Court records show that when she
attempted to end their relationship, he tied her up
with electrical cords, gagged her with a sock, kicked her in
the face and doused her in lighter fluid, threatening to
(06:11):
set her on fire. She later dropped charges,
telling the court he needs help,not prison.
Reverend Robert Dean of New LifeChurch encountered Brown when he
found him digging through the church's dumpster.
Taking pity, Dean allowed Brown temporary shelter.
This arrangement ended when one of Brown's girlfriends came to
(06:33):
Dean expressing fear. She felt he was very nice, very
mannerable, but there was that certain little element she was
afraid of. Dean recalled When Brown
discovered them talking, he burst into Dean's office,
declaring I forbid her to talk to males.
Dean described Brown as having aJekyll and Hyde personality,
(06:54):
charming and humble one moment, controlling and threatening the
next. This was the man who gained
Shirleta Barber Bae's trust and affection.
The man who lived at 553 SheldonAve. for two years.
A quiet presence at family gatherings, a shadow in the
yellow house. Looking back, Anya Griffin later
(07:16):
said there were signs. How he'd answer questions for my
sister, how she stopped coming to family events, how he always
needed to know where she was. But we didn't see it then.
We didn't know what to look for.March 13th, 2019 began like any
(07:36):
ordinary Wednesday at 553 Sheldon Ave.
Radiators clank to life around 6:00 AM as the programmable
thermostat kicked in. Outside, the temperature hover
just above freezing under an iron Gray sky threatening snow.
Jacqueline Barber Bay left for work around 8:00 AM, the front
(07:58):
door clicking shut behind her. She called out a goodbye, not
knowing it would be the last time she'd see her daughter and
niece alive. What happened next can only be
reconstructed from physical evidence, 911 calls and the
timeline established by investigators.
Between 8:00 AM and 10:25 AM, Darryl Brown shot Shirleta Baber
(08:21):
Bay in the back of the head as she lay in bed watching
something on her iPad, earbuds still in her ears.
The medical examiner later determined death was
instantaneous. At least she didn't suffer.
We don't know if Keiona heard the gunshot from elsewhere in
the house. We don't know if she encountered
Brown immediately after her aunt's murder or if hours passed
(08:44):
before he turned his attention to her.
We don't know if they spoke, if she pleaded, if she tried to
reason with him. What we do know is that at 10:25
AM, Keiona Griffin, terrified and hiding somewhere in the
house, made a desperate call to 911.
I need help. The dispatcher straining to
(09:05):
hear. Hello.
I need help. Where are you located?
553 Sheldon Ave. SE.
And then the words that should have changed everything.
Can you just hurry up, please? He's trying to kill me.
He already killed my auntie. Can you hurry up, please?
(09:27):
Outside, the neighborhood continued its Wednesday morning
routine. A postal worker delivered mail.
Children sat in classrooms blocks away at Congress
Elementary. A neighbor across the street
brought in groceries. Life proceeded normally, unaware
of the terror unfolding behind the yellow walls of 553 Sheldon.
(09:49):
Inside the Grand Rapids 911 dispatch center, the call was
categorized and officers were sent to the address.
But crucially, tragically, the full content of Keone's call
wasn't relayed. The dispatcher either didn't
hear or didn't communicate that the caller had reported a murder
had already occurred. This critical failure would
(10:10):
later become the subject of an internal investigation and would
haunt everyone involved. It raised painful questions.
If officers had known someone was already dead inside, would
they have forced entry? Could Keiona have been saved?
At 10:33 AM, three Grand Rapids police officers arrived at 553
(10:32):
Sheldon Ave. Their body cameras recorded
every second of their three minute and 42 second visit.
The footage shows them approaching cautiously, standard
procedure for potential violencecalls.
They knock firmly on the front door.
No answer. They circle to the side door,
knock again. Nothing.
(10:55):
Grand Rapids Police Department One officer calls out, his voice
echoing in the still morning air.
They peer through windows, cupping hands around their eyes
to block glare. Through one window, an officer
reports seeing what looks like an empty dining room.
Another reports nothing visible in the back of the house.
(11:16):
They try calling Kiona's number straight to voicemail.
All doors are locked, no windowsbroken, no sounds from inside,
no calls for help, no visible signs of disturbance.
One officer can be heard on the body Cam footage saying might be
a 1096 referring to department code for a person with mental
(11:36):
health issues. At 10:37 AM, having found no
justification for forcing entry and having received no
additional information that a murder had already occurred
inside, the officers leave. Inside the yellow house, Keiona
Griffin remains hidden, terrified, waiting for help that
(11:57):
isn't coming. What happened in the next two
hours will never be fully known.Did Brown search for Keiona?
Did she try to escape? Was she already wounded when she
made the 911 call? The physical evidence suggests
she was shot in an upstairs bedroom, but when precisely
those shots were fired remains unclear.
(12:20):
What is clear is that sometime between the police departure at
10:37 AM and 12:55 PM, Keiona Griffin was shot 4 times,
including a fatal shot to the face.
The front door of 553 Sheldon Ave. had a distinctive sound, a
slight squeal from hinges needing oil, followed by the
(12:41):
thud of wood against the interior wall if opened two
forcefully. It's the sound that announced
Sanford Cummings the Second's arrival at 12:55 PM.
He had come to check on his sister after being unable to
reach her by phone, a growing unease pushing him to drive over
rather than wait for a call back.
(13:02):
What he found inside transformedhis life in an instant.
Come to 553 Sheldon, he gasped to the 911 dispatcher.
There's blood everywhere, and mysister's not moving.
His voice rises in the recording, breaking with grief
and shock. Oh my Lord, please, Kiona,
(13:24):
please wake up, Please. The dispatcher tries maintaining
calm, asking questions about thescene, but Sanford's attention
is consumed by his sister's body, by the desperate hope that
somehow, despite what his eyes tell him, she might still be
alive. It's a heartbreaking moment of
human denial, that brief, merciful period when the mind
(13:47):
refuses to accept what it cannotbear.
But reality cannot be held at Bay for long.
Kiona was gone 7 minutes after Sanford's call.
Grand Rapids police returned to 553 Sheldon Ave. for the second
time that day. This time, there was no
hesitation at the threshold. Officers entered with weapons
(14:11):
drawn, moving room to room, first securing the scene, then
confirming what Sanford had already reported.
A young woman was dead. But the horror wasn't complete.
In another upstairs bedroom, officers discovered a second
victim. Charleta Babe, or Bay, lay in
bed, partially covered by a blanket, an iPad beside her,
(14:33):
earbuds still in her ears. She had been shot in the back of
the head. The 4th resident of the house,
the man known to the family as Jay, was gone.
The brick chimney of 553 SheldonAve. still stood after the fire,
a lone Sentinel rising from charred remains.
(14:53):
The rest of the house, it's creaking floors, it's history,
soaked walls, it's rooms where generations had lived and
laughed and ultimately died, wasgone.
On July 10th, 2020, just 16 months after the double
homicide, flames tore through the yellow house in the early
morning hours. The fire started in the living
(15:14):
room, where candles had been left burning after a vigil for
Kiona and Charletta. By the time neighbors noticed
the smoke and called 911, flameshad already engulfed the front
of the house. When firefighters arrived, they
found a house transformed into afurnace, heat so intense it
melted the siding on neighboringhomes.
(15:36):
In a back bedroom on the 2nd floor, they found 65 year old
Jacqueline Babur Bay and her five year old great grandson,
Emma Rayon EJ Cummings, both unconscious from smoke
inhalation. Firefighters carried them out
performing CPR on the front lawnas neighbors watched in horror.
Jacqueline was pronounced dead at the scene.
(15:58):
EJ Small, body limp in the arms of a paramedic, was rushed to
Helen De Vos Children's Hospital.
He died hours later. In the span of less than a year
and a half, a family that had once filled a home with three
generations of life had been nearly extinguished.
Meanwhile, the hunt for Darrell Brown continues.
(16:21):
In February 2020, Kent County prosecutors charged him with two
counts of open murder. In July 2021, the US Marshall
Service added Brown to their 15 Most Wanted list, offering a
$25,000 reward for information leading to his arrest.
Brown has a history of violence and is a clear menace to
(16:42):
society, said Bruce Norden, acting US Marshall of the
Western District of Michigan. The Marshall Service and our
federal, state and local law enforcement partners will use
every available resource to bring him to justice.
What makes Brown so difficult tocapture is what made him
dangerous to begin with. His ability to exist in the
(17:04):
shadows. He lived a remarkably analog
life in our digital world. No social media, no bank
accounts, no credit cards, no cell phone contract, no utility
bills, none of the electronic bread crumbs most fugitives
leave behind. He's a ghost, one investigator
told me, requesting anonymity. Most fugitives make mistakes
(17:28):
because they want to maintain their lifestyle.
They use credit cards. They call family.
They check social media. Brown didn't have any of those
attachments to begin with. Brown would now be 50 years old.
He's described as a 5 feet 8 inches black male with black
hair and brown eyes, weighing approximately 180 lbs.
(17:50):
He uses various aliases, including JJ Robinson, Michael
Richardson and Marcus Wright. He looks very unassuming, Norden
warned, and could literally be standing behind you in a grocery
checkout lane. The story of what happened at
553 Sheldon Ave. is not just about murder and manhunt.
(18:12):
It's about vulnerability, about the walls we put up or don't put
up, about the people we let intoour lives and about the
sometimes devastating consequences of trust misplaced.
It's about the ripple effects ofviolence, how taking one life
actually takes many, how survivors are forever changed by
empty spaces, at dinner tables, by birthdays never celebrated,
(18:35):
by futures stolen. Keiona Griffin would be 31 now.
Perhaps she would have become the teacher she dreamed of
being. Perhaps she would have had
children of her own. Perhaps she would have moved
into her own apartment, as thoselistings on her phone suggested.
Shirleta Baber Bay would be 53, perhaps still collecting
(18:57):
elephant figurines, perhaps finally experiencing the genuine
love and partnership she deserved.
Jacqueline Baber Bay would be 71, perhaps retired, enjoying
her grandchildren and great grandchildren.
Emma Rayon EJ Cummings would be 10 in fifth grade, perhaps
(19:18):
playing basketball or video games, growing into the person
he was meant to become. All these futures erased Keiona
Griffin's last whispered words. Can you hurry up?
Please continue to echo a plea for help that came too late for
her but might yet lead to justice if the right person
recognizes Darrell Brown and makes a call.
(19:41):
If you have information about Darrell Brown's whereabouts,
please contact the US Marshals Service or submit a tip online
at usmarshals.gov. Back slash tips There is a
$25,000 reward for information leading directly to his arrest.
For those experiencing domestic violence, help is available.
(20:01):
The National Domestic Violence Hotline provides support 24/7 at
1-800-799-7233. This has been no tears for black
girls. I'm Samantha Paul, thank you for
listening. Stay love, stay blessed, and
stay safe.
No tears for black girls when they disappear.
No tears for black girls like they were never here.
But we remember. We'll speak their names, their
stories matter. We'll break these chains.
(00:22):
No tears left to cry, just true to fire, just to delay.
The Yellow house at 553 Sheldon Ave.
SE stood a mile South of downtown Grand Rapids.
From the sidewalk, you'd first notice its broad front porch
(00:43):
with wooden railings weathered by Michigan's harsh seasons.
The two-story clapboard structure absorbed rather than
reflected the weak March sunlight.
Built in 19 O3, the home spoke through its sounds.
Wooden floors that announced every footstep with distinctive
creeks the family could identifyby person, radiators that
(01:06):
clanked and hissed in winter, windows that rattled when West
winds blew. The Southeast community carries
contradictions in its very foundation.
Once stately homes like 553 Sheldon stand alongside vacant
lots, Corner stores with bullet resistant glass operate blocks
from trendy coffee shops, signals of gentrification
(01:28):
creeping southward from downtown.
At night, distant sirens become part of the soundtrack, along
with buses rumbling down nearby Division Ave.
Neighbors here develop selectiveattention, knowing when to look
and when to mind their business.Not from indifference, but
survival. To understand what was lost at
(01:50):
553 Sheldon Ave. you need to know the women who called it
home. Jacqueline Baber Bay, 65, was
the gravitational center that held generations together.
Barely 5 feet tall with deep brown eyes that missed nothing,
she commanded attention without raising her voice.
(02:11):
For over 20 years, she worked ata local nursing home where
colleagues remembered her as thekind of caregiver who tracked
not just medical needs, but birthdays, grandchildren's names
and favorite foods. Her home reflected her nurturing
spirit. Walls adorned with family
photos. Refrigerator covered with
(02:32):
children's artwork. Cupboard stocked for Sunday
dinners Sherletta Baber Bay, Jacqueline's 47 year old
daughter, had lived in the Yellow House her entire life.
Friends described her as shy butsweet, with a laugh that burst
out unexpectedly like summer rain.
She took pride in her meticulously arranged collection
(02:52):
of elephant figurines and had only recently entered her first
serious romantic relationship. My sister was like a teenager in
love. Anya Griffin, Sherletta's
sister, told me, her voice catching.
She'd never had anyone before. She called me about little
things he did, bringing her coffee, walking her to the bus
(03:13):
stop, small gestures that meant the world to her.
What Charletta couldn't know wasthat these small kindnesses were
calculated tools of manipulation, wielded by a
practiced predator. Keiona Griffin, at 25,
represented the family's future.Born March 8th, 1994, she had
celebrated her birthday just five days before her murder with
(03:38):
warm amber brown skin and a widesmile revealing slightly crooked
front teeth. She hated them.
Everyone else found them endearing.
Kiona was the family spark plug.She organized celebrations,
created new traditions and dreamed aloud she was planning
to go back to school, her brother, Sanford Cummings the
(04:00):
Second, told reporters. She wanted to work with kids,
maybe become a teacher. She was always corralling the
little cousins at family gatherings, doing art projects
with them. On her phone later recovered
from the crime scene, investigators found dozens of
screenshots of apartment listings.
Keiona had been planning to moveout, to start her independent
(04:23):
life. She never got the chance.
Darryl Demon Brown cultivated invisibility.
In an age where most people leave constant electronic
footprints, Brown was a ghost. No social media, no bank
accounts, no credit cards, no registered phone, nothing tying
him to any specific location or identity.
(04:44):
Even his appearance was designedfor anonymity.
Clean shaven, average height andbuild, wearing nondescript
clothing that left no impression, Surveillance footage
captured after the murders showshim in a plain Gray hoodie and
jeans and outfit, blending in anywhere.
Born February 3rd, 1974, Brown grew up in Grand Rapids and
(05:07):
graduated from a local high school.
But his early life remains largely a mystery, one of many
gaps in a biography that seems deliberately incomplete.
What we do know comes primarily from his criminal history and
from women who survived relationships with him.
The pattern is consistent and disturbing.
(05:28):
He starts out as the perfect gentleman, explained Doctor
Catherine Wilson, a forensic psychologist I consulted about
domestic abusers who escalate tohomicide.
He's attentive, seemingly devoted.
Then comes isolation, cutting victims off from friends and
family. Then control, monitoring
movements, dictating who they can talk to.
(05:49):
Then threats, and finally violence.
This was precisely the progression described by a woman
Brown dated in 2005. Court records show that when she
attempted to end their relationship, he tied her up
with electrical cords, gagged her with a sock, kicked her in
the face and doused her in lighter fluid, threatening to
(06:11):
set her on fire. She later dropped charges,
telling the court he needs help,not prison.
Reverend Robert Dean of New LifeChurch encountered Brown when he
found him digging through the church's dumpster.
Taking pity, Dean allowed Brown temporary shelter.
This arrangement ended when one of Brown's girlfriends came to
(06:33):
Dean expressing fear. She felt he was very nice, very
mannerable, but there was that certain little element she was
afraid of. Dean recalled When Brown
discovered them talking, he burst into Dean's office,
declaring I forbid her to talk to males.
Dean described Brown as having aJekyll and Hyde personality,
(06:54):
charming and humble one moment, controlling and threatening the
next. This was the man who gained
Shirleta Barber Bae's trust and affection.
The man who lived at 553 SheldonAve. for two years.
A quiet presence at family gatherings, a shadow in the
yellow house. Looking back, Anya Griffin later
(07:16):
said there were signs. How he'd answer questions for my
sister, how she stopped coming to family events, how he always
needed to know where she was. But we didn't see it then.
We didn't know what to look for.March 13th, 2019 began like any
(07:36):
ordinary Wednesday at 553 Sheldon Ave.
Radiators clank to life around 6:00 AM as the programmable
thermostat kicked in. Outside, the temperature hover
just above freezing under an iron Gray sky threatening snow.
Jacqueline Barber Bay left for work around 8:00 AM, the front
(07:58):
door clicking shut behind her. She called out a goodbye, not
knowing it would be the last time she'd see her daughter and
niece alive. What happened next can only be
reconstructed from physical evidence, 911 calls and the
timeline established by investigators.
Between 8:00 AM and 10:25 AM, Darryl Brown shot Shirleta Baber
(08:21):
Bay in the back of the head as she lay in bed watching
something on her iPad, earbuds still in her ears.
The medical examiner later determined death was
instantaneous. At least she didn't suffer.
We don't know if Keiona heard the gunshot from elsewhere in
the house. We don't know if she encountered
Brown immediately after her aunt's murder or if hours passed
(08:44):
before he turned his attention to her.
We don't know if they spoke, if she pleaded, if she tried to
reason with him. What we do know is that at 10:25
AM, Keiona Griffin, terrified and hiding somewhere in the
house, made a desperate call to 911.
I need help. The dispatcher straining to
(09:05):
hear. Hello.
I need help. Where are you located?
553 Sheldon Ave. SE.
And then the words that should have changed everything.
Can you just hurry up, please? He's trying to kill me.
He already killed my auntie. Can you hurry up, please?
(09:27):
Outside, the neighborhood continued its Wednesday morning
routine. A postal worker delivered mail.
Children sat in classrooms blocks away at Congress
Elementary. A neighbor across the street
brought in groceries. Life proceeded normally, unaware
of the terror unfolding behind the yellow walls of 553 Sheldon.
(09:49):
Inside the Grand Rapids 911 dispatch center, the call was
categorized and officers were sent to the address.
But crucially, tragically, the full content of Keone's call
wasn't relayed. The dispatcher either didn't
hear or didn't communicate that the caller had reported a murder
had already occurred. This critical failure would
(10:10):
later become the subject of an internal investigation and would
haunt everyone involved. It raised painful questions.
If officers had known someone was already dead inside, would
they have forced entry? Could Keiona have been saved?
At 10:33 AM, three Grand Rapids police officers arrived at 553
(10:32):
Sheldon Ave. Their body cameras recorded
every second of their three minute and 42 second visit.
The footage shows them approaching cautiously, standard
procedure for potential violencecalls.
They knock firmly on the front door.
No answer. They circle to the side door,
knock again. Nothing.
(10:55):
Grand Rapids Police Department One officer calls out, his voice
echoing in the still morning air.
They peer through windows, cupping hands around their eyes
to block glare. Through one window, an officer
reports seeing what looks like an empty dining room.
Another reports nothing visible in the back of the house.
(11:16):
They try calling Kiona's number straight to voicemail.
All doors are locked, no windowsbroken, no sounds from inside,
no calls for help, no visible signs of disturbance.
One officer can be heard on the body Cam footage saying might be
a 1096 referring to department code for a person with mental
(11:36):
health issues. At 10:37 AM, having found no
justification for forcing entry and having received no
additional information that a murder had already occurred
inside, the officers leave. Inside the yellow house, Keiona
Griffin remains hidden, terrified, waiting for help that
(11:57):
isn't coming. What happened in the next two
hours will never be fully known.Did Brown search for Keiona?
Did she try to escape? Was she already wounded when she
made the 911 call? The physical evidence suggests
she was shot in an upstairs bedroom, but when precisely
those shots were fired remains unclear.
(12:20):
What is clear is that sometime between the police departure at
10:37 AM and 12:55 PM, Keiona Griffin was shot 4 times,
including a fatal shot to the face.
The front door of 553 Sheldon Ave. had a distinctive sound, a
slight squeal from hinges needing oil, followed by the
(12:41):
thud of wood against the interior wall if opened two
forcefully. It's the sound that announced
Sanford Cummings the Second's arrival at 12:55 PM.
He had come to check on his sister after being unable to
reach her by phone, a growing unease pushing him to drive over
rather than wait for a call back.
(13:02):
What he found inside transformedhis life in an instant.
Come to 553 Sheldon, he gasped to the 911 dispatcher.
There's blood everywhere, and mysister's not moving.
His voice rises in the recording, breaking with grief
and shock. Oh my Lord, please, Kiona,
(13:24):
please wake up, Please. The dispatcher tries maintaining
calm, asking questions about thescene, but Sanford's attention
is consumed by his sister's body, by the desperate hope that
somehow, despite what his eyes tell him, she might still be
alive. It's a heartbreaking moment of
human denial, that brief, merciful period when the mind
(13:47):
refuses to accept what it cannotbear.
But reality cannot be held at Bay for long.
Kiona was gone 7 minutes after Sanford's call.
Grand Rapids police returned to 553 Sheldon Ave. for the second
time that day. This time, there was no
hesitation at the threshold. Officers entered with weapons
(14:11):
drawn, moving room to room, first securing the scene, then
confirming what Sanford had already reported.
A young woman was dead. But the horror wasn't complete.
In another upstairs bedroom, officers discovered a second
victim. Charleta Babe, or Bay, lay in
bed, partially covered by a blanket, an iPad beside her,
(14:33):
earbuds still in her ears. She had been shot in the back of
the head. The 4th resident of the house,
the man known to the family as Jay, was gone.
The brick chimney of 553 SheldonAve. still stood after the fire,
a lone Sentinel rising from charred remains.
(14:53):
The rest of the house, it's creaking floors, it's history,
soaked walls, it's rooms where generations had lived and
laughed and ultimately died, wasgone.
On July 10th, 2020, just 16 months after the double
homicide, flames tore through the yellow house in the early
morning hours. The fire started in the living
(15:14):
room, where candles had been left burning after a vigil for
Kiona and Charletta. By the time neighbors noticed
the smoke and called 911, flameshad already engulfed the front
of the house. When firefighters arrived, they
found a house transformed into afurnace, heat so intense it
melted the siding on neighboringhomes.
(15:36):
In a back bedroom on the 2nd floor, they found 65 year old
Jacqueline Babur Bay and her five year old great grandson,
Emma Rayon EJ Cummings, both unconscious from smoke
inhalation. Firefighters carried them out
performing CPR on the front lawnas neighbors watched in horror.
Jacqueline was pronounced dead at the scene.
(15:58):
EJ Small, body limp in the arms of a paramedic, was rushed to
Helen De Vos Children's Hospital.
He died hours later. In the span of less than a year
and a half, a family that had once filled a home with three
generations of life had been nearly extinguished.
Meanwhile, the hunt for Darrell Brown continues.
(16:21):
In February 2020, Kent County prosecutors charged him with two
counts of open murder. In July 2021, the US Marshall
Service added Brown to their 15 Most Wanted list, offering a
$25,000 reward for information leading to his arrest.
Brown has a history of violence and is a clear menace to
(16:42):
society, said Bruce Norden, acting US Marshall of the
Western District of Michigan. The Marshall Service and our
federal, state and local law enforcement partners will use
every available resource to bring him to justice.
What makes Brown so difficult tocapture is what made him
dangerous to begin with. His ability to exist in the
(17:04):
shadows. He lived a remarkably analog
life in our digital world. No social media, no bank
accounts, no credit cards, no cell phone contract, no utility
bills, none of the electronic bread crumbs most fugitives
leave behind. He's a ghost, one investigator
told me, requesting anonymity. Most fugitives make mistakes
(17:28):
because they want to maintain their lifestyle.
They use credit cards. They call family.
They check social media. Brown didn't have any of those
attachments to begin with. Brown would now be 50 years old.
He's described as a 5 feet 8 inches black male with black
hair and brown eyes, weighing approximately 180 lbs.
(17:50):
He uses various aliases, including JJ Robinson, Michael
Richardson and Marcus Wright. He looks very unassuming, Norden
warned, and could literally be standing behind you in a grocery
checkout lane. The story of what happened at
553 Sheldon Ave. is not just about murder and manhunt.
(18:12):
It's about vulnerability, about the walls we put up or don't put
up, about the people we let intoour lives and about the
sometimes devastating consequences of trust misplaced.
It's about the ripple effects ofviolence, how taking one life
actually takes many, how survivors are forever changed by
empty spaces, at dinner tables, by birthdays never celebrated,
(18:35):
by futures stolen. Keiona Griffin would be 31 now.
Perhaps she would have become the teacher she dreamed of
being. Perhaps she would have had
children of her own. Perhaps she would have moved
into her own apartment, as thoselistings on her phone suggested.
Shirleta Baber Bay would be 53, perhaps still collecting
(18:57):
elephant figurines, perhaps finally experiencing the genuine
love and partnership she deserved.
Jacqueline Baber Bay would be 71, perhaps retired, enjoying
her grandchildren and great grandchildren.
Emma Rayon EJ Cummings would be 10 in fifth grade, perhaps
(19:18):
playing basketball or video games, growing into the person
he was meant to become. All these futures erased Keiona
Griffin's last whispered words. Can you hurry up?
Please continue to echo a plea for help that came too late for
her but might yet lead to justice if the right person
recognizes Darrell Brown and makes a call.
(19:41):
If you have information about Darrell Brown's whereabouts,
please contact the US Marshals Service or submit a tip online
at usmarshals.gov. Back slash tips There is a
$25,000 reward for information leading directly to his arrest.
For those experiencing domestic violence, help is available.
(20:01):
The National Domestic Violence Hotline provides support 24/7 at
1-800-799-7233. This has been no tears for black
girls. I'm Samantha Paul, thank you for
listening. Stay love, stay blessed, and
stay safe.
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