

But he was unsure why his son would have been driving around with a baseball bat in the car.Īt the Hampden home where Timothy Reynolds lived with his wife and daughter, his mother-in-law said Friday morning that the family was doing their best to process the sudden loss.

He played baseball in nearby Carroll Park, his father recalled. When “Timmy” was little, the family lived in Pigtown, not far from the downtown intersection where he was killed. He spoke with a reporter from the doorway of his Catonsville home. “It’s a tougher job now than it was then,” he said, referring to the increase in gun violence and other challenges facing city police officers. The elder Reynolds worked as a Baltimore police officer in the 1970s, conducting foot patrols in the Western District. “I can sit here and speculate but I have no idea what happened,” he said, his forehead creased into an incredulous frown. He said the squeegee workers have been a Baltimore staple for decades and was unaware of his son having any strong opinions about them. “We’re holding up as best we can,” Carroll Reynolds said. Reynolds was transported to the hospital, where he was pronounced dead a short time later. At the crime scene later that evening, the metal bat lay on the pavement next to a pool of blood. On Thursday afternoon, police said Timothy Reynolds drove through the intersection of East Conway and Light streets, parked his car and walked back to the group of squeegee workers while wielding a baseball bat. “These kids have no right to be out in traffic,” the post says. The post says a squeegee worker at the intersection of South Charles and East Conway streets - one block over from where the Thursday shooting unfolded - washed his window without permission and stared “threateningly” into the car. He wondered aloud what could have possibly possessed his son to engage in the seemingly bizarre confrontation that turned deadly.Ī Twitter account linked to Timothy Reynolds includes a message about squeegee workers posted in April 2019. He spent Thursday evening watching his grandson play baseball in Howard County, unaware of the devastating news that would later arrive. “He should have kept driving.”Ĭarroll Reynolds didn’t find out what had happened until several hours after the shooting. “He should have just kept driving,” Carroll Reynolds kept repeating during an interview about his son, shaking his head in disbelief. In a city plagued by rampant gun violence, the deadly encounter illustrates another trend that experts and officials have pointed to during the pandemic: more minor disputes escalating quickly into shots fired with sometimes fatal results.
