Living with threats, making peace with the past

As the clerk read the verdict, Santana shook his head.

Guilty on all counts, including willful, deliberate and premeditated attempted murder.

Santana sobbed, curling into himself. In the gallery, his mother was weeping.

Jurors filed out, eyes darting, avoiding the Santanas and searching for the polite young man in the wheelchair whom they would later say they believed from the moment he took the stand.

But Davien had gone back to school.

He would later send a statement for the prosecutor to read to Santana at his sentencing in June.

The shooting broke him, Davien wrote. But he managed to recover and start a new life.

"I hope that you can become a better person during this whole experience," he wrote to Santana. "Life does not end here for you. You can still do good to the world."

Santana and his family declined to be interviewed for this article. He was sentenced to 40 years to life.

***

A month and a half after the trial, on March 17, 2012, Davien was surrounded by a crowd at his apartment. It was his birthday. He had fulfilled his childhood goal: survive to age 21.

Davien belted out a rap song he had composed.

"What do you see when you look in the mirror? Does it fade away or all get clearer?"

Davien's father, Steven "Steve-O" Graham, was in the crowd. The former Crip had straightened out and started a handyman business.

Davien made peace with him and his mother — but as friends, not as parents. He had been his own parent for a long time.

Davien had a new goal. He was finishing his third year of college, planning to graduate with a degree in video production.

School can take me places that walking can't.

He has a five-year plan, which includes self-producing two rap albums from his mix tapes: "Musical Chair" and "Ramps and Elevators." He wants to produce a clothing line featuring a stylized handicapped logo, an after-school program for at-risk youth and a screenplay titled "Where There's Wheels, There's a Way."

At the party, his girlfriend, a fellow student, presented a marble sheet cake decorated with his planned album cover: a photo of Davien in his wheelchair.

"It's not every day a young man turns 21," his father said. "You're grown for the rest of your life — don't turn back."

He handed Davien a flute of pink champagne. Davien sipped slowly. Leaning forward to blow out his candles, he made a wish.

molly.hennessy-fiske@latimes.com

Second of two parts. Previous: A gunshot victim wrestles with his fears