Guest post from Gus Sentementes: 

I was tipped off to the murder of Kenneth N. Harris Sr. about two hours after it happened, very early Saturday morning.

As I rolled out of bed and got dressed, 50 thoughts seemed to flit through my brain: Call my editors. Call my colleagues. How could this happen to Ken Harris? Are the batteries in my camera charged up?

But one thought stuck with me all day as I worked on the story: Ken never came back to my office to pick up something that used to hang on his wall. It was a plaque, with a reprint of an article published in the Afro-American newspaper on Feb. 4, 1995. The plaque and how it ended up in my possession, I remember thinking, now personally connected him with another victim of violence in Baltimore.

The article was a profile of Ken as a "busy activist" and community organizer, four years before he would be elected to the City Council. It talked about Ken organizing programs for young people and serving as a mentor to some, including young Shannon L. Dudley, who was quoted in the story.

In 1995, Dudley was a 9-year-old fourth-grader with lots of promise but an unsteady home life. Ken told me he took him under his wing and took him places. He would often have Shannon over to his house to have dinner with his wife and two children.

The article featured a photo of Ken and young Shannon together, with the boy staring precociously into the camera.

Ken let me borrow the plaque in late May because of what happened to Shannon that month. Shannon, who was 22 at the time, was brutally stabbed May 27th in a downtown robbery. His attackers took some of his belongings and fled, leaving him hanging onto life by a thread. Police later charged two young men in the attack.

I worked on that story, too. And I remembered not having any luck finding anyone who knew Shannon -- until Ken called. He told me knew the boy and could help put me in touch with his mother (which he did). I was looking for a photo of Shannon to run with our story about him, but his mother couldn't get one in my hands. So Ken told me about the article from 1995 and told me he'd drop off his plaque, which had the photo of him and Shannon. A few hours later, I met him outside The Baltimore Sun building on Calvert Street, and he handed me the plaque and talked about Shannon. We ran the photo of a young Shannon Dudley in the next day's paper, thanks to Ken's thoughtfulness.

Ken and I touched base a couple times since then, and each time he kept saying he'd come by to pick up the plaque. But time slipped away from both of us, and the plaque remained propped against a filing cabinet under my desk.

Until Saturday morning.

When I arrived at my desk, the first thing I did was pull out the plaque and prop it on my desk, so I could be reminded of him and Shannon as I wrote.

Here, I thought, were two Baltimoreans who came together years ago, both seeking a better future in this city. Thirteen years later, both would be cut down in violence on the streets.

Amazingly, the doctors at Maryland Shock Trauma Center were able to save Shannon, even though he was stabbed in the heart. Today, his mother, Tilithea Ransome, told me her son is still hospitalized and he can't yet speak. But he's alert and steadily healing.

And Tilithea is heartbroken over Ken's death. She said he used to call or e-mail her just about every week since her son was stabbed, just to check in. She would shoot him a quick e-mail back to let him know he was progressing. She's convinced Ken did some extra prodding of the police to make sure they caught her son's attackers. And for that, she's grateful.

"I felt really strongly that Ken's input made some impact on the police working harder on his case," Tilithea said. "He was kind and offered his help."

About Ken's death, Tilithea said: "It's unbelievable, really."

I look forward to returning this plaque to Ken's family soon.