I thought my Sunday was going great. I was heading back to Baltimore from Washington, D.C. after a wonderful Juneteenth dinner with friends, when I received a cryptic text message.
“Did you hear the news?” it read.
“No,” I responded. My heart skipped a beat.
“What is your number?” the next message asked. “Call me.”
I hadn’t heard from my mother and sister all day. And the person I was communicating with was from my hometown of Syracuse, New York, where they both still lived. Needless to say, I immediately panicked.
Just a month had passed since the mass murders at a Buffalo supermarket. What if a copycat killer carried out the same attack in Syracuse? What if my mother and sister were involved in some type of accident? There were countless horrific outcomes running through my head.
I called the number expecting the worst. And it was, in fact, horrible news.
Trevor Scott Ivan White, the owner of RYMKS Bar and Grille, a soul food restaurant with a Caribbean twist in Little Italy, had been gunned down outside of his home in Northeast Baltimore early on Father’s Day. The 40-year-old left behind a wife, Ebony, and three children, ages 12, 7 and 6.
My heart sank.
The last time I spoke to “Scottie” — his nickname when we were growing up together in Syracuse — I was talking to him about a story I wrote about discrimination that Black restaurant owners experienced in Baltimore.
White was featured in the story; his resiliency and dedication to community stood out. He spoke of a desire to form an organization that supported Black restaurant owners and a need to continue opening businesses that encouraged Black ownership. It was the same spirit reminiscent of his late father, Trevor Sr. His father was a well-known entrepreneur and accountant with a passion for helping Black business owners in upstate New York. His father did my family’s taxes.
White inherited his father’s gift for numbers and tax law, offering his financial services free of charge during tax season.
He also worked with a number of businesses — all focused on the empowerment of Black people. In addition to the restaurant, White was owner and operator of VBS Tax and Accounting on Liberty Road. He also was the director of asset management at ReBuild Metro, a nonprofit that helps provide affordable housing opportunities.
“One thing that Trevor always believed in was helping the next person. He was always going above and beyond what his actual role was,” said his older sister, Danielle White, who followed her brother to Baltimore a few months after he moved here. She last saw him hours before his death at the birthday party she shared with her twin sister, which was held at his restaurant. “My brother knew numbers. His number one passion was accounting. And that is what pushed him through all the other business aspects that he had.”
She added: “If it was a Black business, he was going to support it. I think it came from how Daddy used to always support small businesses in Syracuse. Coming to Baltimore, he felt that was what he needed to do. He needed to give his people jobs, opportunities, and push them into the right direction.”
Talking to his sister further drove home to point that Baltimore continues to break my heart.
I have a complicated relationship with the city. I love its flavor, potential and many examples of Black excellence — past and present. But the city romanticizes crime at the expense of Black bodies.
There are too many stories about young Black men killed without being identified and with no motive listed. The sheer number of murders, mixed with a lack of concern for yet another nameless Black body, was evident in the initial coverage.
I might sound jaded. But who can blame me? It’s not lost on me that every day in America could be my last. The death of my childhood friend reminded me of that.
Investigators have yet to release a motive or identify a suspect in White’s death. A reward is being offered for information leading to the arrest of his killer.
As the word spread through Baltimore — particularly among folks with Syracuse ties — feelings of shock and sorrow were expressed by those who knew him.
“I’m a complete mess,” one mutual friend texted me.
Aaron Dante, the host of the Baltimore podcast “No Pix After Dark,” is also from Syracuse and knew White from middle school. Dante said he was with White less than 12 hours before he was murdered. The two hung out at AFRAM and even recorded an episode for his show together.
“Going to a suburban private school in Syracuse, we all stuck together. All the Black kids knew each other. And we were all friends. We go way back,” said Dante, who now lives in Northeast Baltimore. “He loved Baltimore. He wanted everyone to move down here. He said Baltimore was a place of opportunity.”
Talking with White’s friends and family resulted in a flood of memories from our childhood.
I can distinctly remember him and a close friend performing a Kid ‘n Play-like routine to “Joy and Pain” by Rob Base and DJ E-Z Rock during a school talent show.
He dominated the football field at our high school, Christian Brothers Academy, a major powerhouse in the central New York region. He later went to Boston College on a football scholarship, where he was a four-year starter as a defensive back and a player on special teams. After graduating with a degree in accounting, he moved to New York City where he worked as a staff tax accountant for five years at PricewaterhouseCoopers. He met his wife there and the two moved to Gwynn Oak in 2006, before buying their home in Northeast Baltimore in 2007.
White quickly fell in love with Baltimore and was constantly trying to encourage friends and family to move here, according to his sister and friends.
White seemed to do everything right. And he tried his best to make his mark on Baltimore.
He opened his first sports bar, Clutch, in 2011 in Canton. It was initially successful until he believed word got out in the neighborhood that it was Black-owned and thus lost support from surrounding residents. He closed it in 2014, but was not deterred. He later opened RYMKS Bar & Grille (pronounced remix) in May 2021. There, he hosted brunches, happy hours, book signings and talks.
At the same time he fit in time with his family. His social media was filled with posts of his children’s sporting events and other milestone family events. He was active in his fraternity, the Zeta Sigma chapter of Phi Beta Sigma — regularly doing community service.
He was trying to uplift his community and help mold the next generation. But that wasn’t enough the morning of Father’s Day, when his life was tragically cut short.
“He thought about safety. But it wasn’t a necessity. It was more so to make sure his wife and kids were safe,” his sister recalled. “He felt as if, ‘hey, if I could survive in NYC when I was there, I can survive in Baltimore.’”
Those words will forever haunt me. Those words will remain a constant reminder that crime can strike when you least expect it. And it can hit dangerously close to home.
Rest in power, Scottie.
johnj.williams@thebaltimorebanner.com
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