Jayvon Brister, 18

Died July 30, 2007 at 8:57 p.m.

Jayvon Brister, 18, a black man, was shot multiple times at Century Boulevard and Denver Avenue just west of the Harbor Freeway about 8:20 p.m. Monday, July 30. He died at 8:57 p.m.

He and a companion, a 21-year-old black man, were on a bicyle, one on the handlebars, said LAPD Det. Mark Hahn. They were attacked by drive-by or walk-up shooters. The two victims ran and made it not quite a block. Brister had a chest wound and later died at a hospital. His companion was shot in the hand and survived.

Dispatch: "I don't want to go" [Originally published Aug. 10, 2007]

At the hospital, they told Karen Wayland to wait in the chapel.

That's when she knew.

Earlier she had gotten a phone call. But the caller said only that her son, 18-year-old Jayvon, had been shot.

She rushed to the scene. Officers sent her to the hospital. She went. She asked to see him.

They showed her the chapel. She balked at the door. "I don't want to go," she protested. "I know what that is!"

They coaxed her in. They closed the door.

Wayland could hardly breathe. Finally, the doctors and police came. She knew what was coming. She nearly passed out anyway.

Afterward she would remember one phrase from the conversation: Jayvon, she recalled them saying, "didn't have a drop of blood left in his body" by the time he arrived at the hospital.

Jayvon Brister died of gunshot injury at 8:57 p.m. Monday, July 30. He had been attacked at Century Boulevard and Denver Avenue just west of the Harbor Freeway while riding a bicycle.

He had attended Locke High School but didn't graduate. He was aiming instead for a technical certificate. He had taken some classes in mechanics at Compton Community College.

He was a natural fix-it man, constantly tinkering with the car, the microwave, his stereos, the TV, his family said. "He was always fixing up something I didn't want him touching," his grandmother said. Police suspect gang motives in the shooting, but it remains unsolved.

Photos: Above, Wayland tries to put her son's broken glasses back together before the funeral. Below, the bicycle shrine where he died. "I just want everyone into that gang stuff to know they need to leave that alone," she said. "Them bullets ain't got nobody's name on them."