February 22, 1998
The funeral procession was led by three Greenfield police cars and a Greenfield firetruck; as more than 50 cars of mourners moved slowly down the street, police blocked intersections.
The funeral must have been for a politician, or cop, or firefighter. It must have been for someone really important.
Brandon Storey was a 16-year-old junior at Greenfield High School, a big, sociable, lovable lug, size 16 shoes and a huge heart; a wannabe cop, a wannabe firefighter; loved his kid sister, loved his dad, and adored his mother; an occasional clown, a sometimes boy in a linebacker's body, 6 feet 2, and 240 pounds of personality, who got along with everyone who wanted to get along.
Last October, some brutal boys didn't want to get along.
Brandon liked to hang around police and fire stations; he was walking home from a visit to a Greenfield fire station, when a car full of trouble stopped, four boys emerged and beat him. Punched him, knocked him down and kicked him.
Afterward, "Brandon's face was swollen and red, and he didn't have his glasses on," his father, Danny, said. "While he was curled up (on the ground), they kicked and beat and pounded on him. Before they left, one saw his glasses and stomped on them."
His mother, Lori Fitas Storey, said, "Brandon had a big shoe print, where they stomped on the side of his face and neck."
Brandon couldn't understand why these brainless cowards chose him as a target for their hands and feet. He didn't realize that viciousness often has no aim.
His aim was to be a good citizen. Brandon belonged to an Explorers' post at the West Allis Police Department and he helped establish an Explorers' post at the Greenfield Fire Department.
Mr. Storey recalled a December Saturday when high school kids are supposed to sleep until noon, then make out their Christmas list; Brandon "was up at 6 (a.m.) and out of the house before we were up. He spent the day washing police cars at the Greenfield Department."
Last year, during a simulated tragedy involving several emergency departments, Brandon played the part of a victim -- he was only playing a victim then -- and was photographed, the picture appearing in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.
"He loved being around the fire and police departments," Mr. Storey said.
With tears in his eyes, Mr. Storey said his son hoped to be "one of them."
During Student Government day in 1995, Brandon was chosen to be police chief for a day, and spent it with Greenfield Police Chief Frank Springob.
"I'm very sorry to see that a life so vibrant was cut so unnecessarily short," the chief said.
At school, Brandon helped young people who have cognitive disabilities. He'd help them read, or he'd record lessons on audio tape so the youngsters could hear the words.
Some of Brandon's sensitivity could be traced to his parents -- nine years ago, Mr. and Mrs. Storey became the nation's first husband and wife to donate lifesaving bone marrow to strangers. Mrs. Storey donated marrow to a 4-year-old Saukville girl with leukemia, and Mr. Storey donated marrow to an Illinois man with leukemia.
Talking about her brother, Danielle, 12, smiled and recalled her last birthday, when Brandon "made me green pancakes with candles on the top."
A clown, that Brandon. His parents remembered when he threw a stink bomb into the principal's office. But Brandon's actions at school usually weren't that outrageous: not long ago, a teacher, who had made dozens of cookies for a class of cognitively disabled kids, needed help with the frosting, so Brandon used his lunch hour to frost cookies.
Mr. Storey, who is a hazardous materials inspector, retired after 20 years in the Air Force. Brandon was a member of the Air Force Junior ROTC program.
"Lots of parades, lots of chasing (around)," Mr. Storey said.
The Junior ROTC formed an honor guard at Brandon's funeral.
In December, Robert A. DiUlio, a physician, wrote: "Since surgery was not being considered prior to the assault, but has been deemed necessary since the assault, I think we can assume the surgery is the direct result of the assault."
Beaten in October, Brandon had arthroscopic knee surgery in January, and seemed to recover quickly. Ten days later, he and his father worked on a school project, then Brandon fell asleep on a couch in the Storey home. When his mother went to wake him, "you could see tears on either side of his face," she said.
"We tried to get him up, and he started screaming, it hurt so bad, and he slid to the floor," she said, sliding to the floor to show how her son went down. With tears in her eyes, she said, "He was pounding his hand on the floor, he said, 'Ma-, Ma-,' and that was it."
Frantically, the Storeys called 911.
"The paramedics knew Brandon," Mrs. Storey said. "The officers knew Brandon; it must have been hard for them. They did use a paddle. They did use intravenous. They tried for 78 minutes."
"It was a blood clot," Mr. Storey said. "The doctor said a 1 in 10 million chance at his age."
To honor their son's memory, the Storeys set up the Brandon A. Storey Foundation at the State Central Credit Union, 10015 W. Greenfield Ave., Milwaukee, WI, 53214. It will provide funds and equipment to help, as Brandon did, students with cognitive disabilities.
Two days before Brandon's surgery, one of the boys who beat Brandon appeared in Children's Court. After the hearing, which Brandon did not attend, Mrs. Storey told him that his attacker's mother was dead and that the boy had family problems.
Brandon, being Brandon, asked: "Could we take him out for a pizza?"