The July 4 shooting that killed Maurice Quann may have been part of a gang feud he had nothing to do with, police sources say

Friends had warned Maurice White Quann that having his Fourth of July party in Kingsessing could be dangerous.

Quann, 19, was known for organizing parties that drew hundreds of kids to different parks or small venues across the city, where they danced and listened to music into the night.

The July Fourth gathering, which he had spent weeks promoting, was originally planned to be held in North Philadelphia, but at the last minute, Quann shifted it down to his family’s neighborhood in Southwest. He told people to meet in the park behind Francis Myers Recreation Center about 7 p.m.

Kids cautioned him that there could be trouble, one of his best friends said — that block was at the center of a longtime gang feud that had escalated in recent months.

But Quann was stubborn about his parties, said his best friend, Raheem Flynn. Plus, this was home. His family lived nearby. Everything would be fine, Flynn said he assured them.

About 11:30 p.m., as the party died down and most people headed home, a gunman in a white Toyota Highlander pulled up and fired 17 shots into the lingering crowd. Screams echoed down the block as teens ran and dove for cover.

Nine people, ages 14 to 24, were shot, including Quann, who was struck in the face. His cousins ran to his side as he lay on the pavement, and wrapped a shirt around his head, crying for him to stay with them as police rushed to the scene.

“He tried to get up, but he couldn’t,” said Alayah Anderson, his 14-year-old cousin. “He didn’t say anything. He was just looking.”

Quann died at the hospital 15 minutes later.

The shooting — the fourth episode of mass Independence Day violence in as many years — led to an outcry from city officials, community leaders, and teens alike condemning the city’s gun violence, which continues to affect young people at an alarming rate.

No arrests have been made, and police said it remains unclear who was responsible for the shooting. Deputy Police Commissioner Frank Vanore said that investigators have no evidence that links any of the nine victims to any of the crews in the neighborhood, and that it appears Quann was not the intended target.

» READ MORE: Defying the code of silence: How a teen helped solve four murders and convict a West Philly gang

Police recovered what they believe was the shooter’s getaway car in Lansdowne, with bullet casings scattered through the vehicle, he said, and detectives are still sifting through social media posts and surveillance footage, processing evidence, and working to identify a suspect.

In the hours after the shooting, a firestorm ignited over social media, with many people pointing fingers at those they believe were at fault: the feuding gangs from the neighborhood. What followed was a rare look inside the fallout of the shooting — a days-long back-and-forth that included, in a remarkable turn, one gang member apologizing to the community for letting innocent teens get caught in the middle of their feud.

“We take responsibility for even letting kids on [our] block,” one member posted to Instagram.

Quann, a senior at John Bartram High School, was an extrovert who loved to entertain people — something that family said blossomed at a young age. When he was just 8 years old, he started working for party group Jazzy’s Entertainment, dressing up in costumes and performing group dances for events across the city.

“He was always a dancer, he was always loud, he was always making people laugh,” said Jamira White, 18, Quann’s niece who was more like a sister.

As he grew into a teen, he started organizing and promoting larger events, seeing it as a way to make money and kickstart his goal of becoming a business owner. Then, after his mother died in a car accident two years ago, he leaned into the work even more to cope with his grief, friends said.

Quann’s friend Flynn said his parties were known for being a place where teens from other neighborhoods left their drama at home and hung out together.

“He was trying to bring people together and stop the violence. That’s what Maur was all about,” said Chiantay Ellis, his cousin.

But Quann was shaken, Flynn said, after his close friend Isya Stanley was shot and killed at a gathering in Fairmount last month. Quann wanted to take a step back from parties, he said, and focus on graduating and preparing for college in the fall. The July Fourth party would be his last.

“And it really was,” Flynn said sadly.

The night of the event, as families barbecued nearby, teens gathered near Francis Myers Park around 7 p.m. After police dispersed the initial crowd, White said, some kids moved a few blocks down to 60th and Kingsessing. Police again dispersed the teens, and by 11 p.m., most kids had gone home, and the crowd had dwindled down to a smaller group lingering near Salford Street, including Quann and some relatives from the block.

Anderson, White’s cousin, said she was aware of people with beefs in that area, but it was their neighborhood — they wanted to enjoy the holiday like any other teens.

“We from around here,” she said. “Everybody was having a good time.”

Until 11:30 p.m., when she watched her cousin take some of his final breaths.

It’s not clear who was responsible for the shooting, but after the gunfire, attention soon turned to the local gangs.

Across Philadelphia, there are dozens of cliques, mostly of young men, who affiliate with specific blocks. In West Philly, there’s 524, from 52nd to 54th Streets in Kingsessing; 39st, from 39th and Poplar in Mantua; a crew at 61st and Jefferson Streets.

Most groups, who see themselves more as families than gangs, come and go as quickly as their members, often lost to a cycle of gun violence and prison. As membership dips, some crews form alliances — both for the manpower and protection, and to feature each other in drill rap music.

One such alliance has dubbed itself “CCK” — an acronym for a trio of gangs from West and South Philly that formed in late 2021, according to law enforcement sources. The name stands for the “Campers,” or 02da4, from 60th to 64th Streets; the “Clappers,” or 56th Street/Christy Rec Center in West Philadelphia; and the “Klappers,” from Seventh Street in South Philadelphia.

For years, the groups within CCK have feuded with the Young Bag Chasers, or YBC, from Mantua, as well as “9side,” a group from 59th and Kingsessing that affiliates with Francis Myers Recreation Center. What gave rise to the rivalries is not completely clear, but the back and forth has led to dozens of shootings and homicides in the last four years, many involving bystanders.

Retaliation between CCK and 9side, which is allied with YBC, had been heating up for the last two months, particularly after a young man named Qaadir Cheeks was shot and killed in May at 55th Street and Baltimore Avenue, sources said.

Cheeks, a 22-year-old known as “55Qua,” was friends with members of CCK, and the crew wanted revenge for his death. His killing remains unsolved, but CCK blamed 9side for the shooting, sources said, after its members immediately mocked Cheeks online and sent cruel messages to his loved ones.

Things escalated even more when, on July 2, a key member of 9side, who goes by the rap name “9side Ree,” released a song dissing Cheeks.

Two days later, Quann’s July 4 party, near a block where several 9side members live and often hang out, was shot up.

It wasn’t clear whether anyone from 9side was even on the block that night — or whether the bullets were even meant for them. Deputy Police Commissioner Vanore said that although investigators are aware of the feuding crews, and were examining social media posts, he could not comment on any specifics or confirm the names of the groups. Detectives are still working to determine a motive for the July 4 shooting, he said.

Still, social media users, particularly members of 9side, immediately blamed CCK for the crime.

Within hours, 9side Ree posted to his Instagram story, saying the shooting, and Quann’s death, were “NOT GETBACK” because he was not affiliated with their crew. He apologized, and said he regretted letting young people party on their block, given the risk of shootings.

“We send [our] condolences to the youngin who died tho,” he wrote. “We take responsibility for even letting kids on [our] block.”

Over the years, many young men across West and Southwest Philadelphia have been killed in gang feuds they had nothing to do with. There is Jarell Jackson, and Shahjahan McCaskill. Sircarr Johnson Jr. and Salahaldin Mahmoud. Antonio Walker Jr., Nasir Marks, and K.J. Johnson.

And now, Maurice Quann.

» READ MORE: One West Philly gang is connected to at least 30 shootings. These were four of the youngest victims.

Quann’s death, in many ways, underscores the fragility of teen life in Philadelphia, particularly in neighborhoods where kids crave safe spaces to hang out and be themselves, but feel as if there are none. In Southwest Philadelphia, the two largest recreation centers — Kingsessing Rec and Francis Myers — are indefinitely closed as they undergo much-needed renovations. And while Police Commissioner Kevin Bethel has vowed to crack down on pop-up parties like Quann’s, saying their unstructured nature and large crowds draw violence, others say the answer also lies in community investment.

“This is what happens when the kids feel they don’t have anything,” said Pastor Aaron Campbell, executive director at Level Up, a West Philadelphia-based youth mentorship organization and community center that draws hundreds of kids each week.

Quann was a longtime member of Level Up, often showing up dressed as different characters and dancing amid the crowd. On a recent Tuesday, hundreds of kids gathered in the organization’s courtyard to honor their friend. White, Quann’s niece, wore his gray Bartram High graduation stole around her neck through the night.

Campbell, at one point, held Quann’s journal up to the crowd. He read the first page, an entry from August 2023, in which the teen dreamed about life getting better, about passing the 12th grade — and in a sad irony, wishing for an end to gun violence.

“Guns down, books up,” Quann wrote.

Campbell’s voice cracked as he read the words, and the whimpering of a teen girl, catching her breath between sobs, echoed through the yard.

Staff writer Nathaniel Rosenberg contributed to this article.