One cold afternoon in the Pinkney household, the family was left to entertain themselves in the midst of a cold rainstorm. Anthony, who wanted to brighten up the mood, found the perfect song on YouTube and cranked up the sound. “Momma what you know about this?” he told his mom, Tyra, as the O’Jays started blasting.
Eager to make his mother’s day, he asked for her hand in the dance.
“He loved to dance with his Momma,” his mother, Tyra, says, her voice catching between pride and grief. “We’d put on music in the living room, and he’d just start moving, laughing, spinning me around. Those are moments I’ll hold onto forever.”
Anthony grew up in Kensington area, where he found his love for music and life. Even at a young age, Ant would make sure that others recognized him and treated him with respect.
Anthony was an eighth grader at Excel Middle School, where he had recently been rewarded for his good grades. He loved basketball and football, and like so many boys his age, he could spend hours on his PlayStation, laughing with friends through a headset.
His friend, Amir Thomas, recalls their gaming moments. ”He used to text me bro, hop on fortnite or Call of Duty, we would just go until we won or we got tired, he was always trying to win.”
But beyond his hobbies, what people remember most is his personality. “There was never a dull moment around him,” Tyra says. “He was a goofball, always joking, always finding a way to make people laugh. But he was also the one you could lean on. If you needed someone to listen, he was there.”
His father, Anthony Sr., nods in agreement. “He was loyal. That’s the word for him. If you were his friend, you were his friend for life. He had your back, no matter what.”
On March 4, 2023, Anthony was out with friends. According to those close to the family, the day was ordinary until it wasn’t. Gunfire erupted, and Anthony was struck and killed on the 6000 block of Haddington Lane.
For Tyra and Anthony Sr., the hours that followed were a blur of disbelief and heartbreak. “You never think it’s going to be your child,” Anthony Sr. says quietly. “You hear about it happening to other families, and you pray for them. And then one day, it’s you. And nothing makes sense anymore.”
Those who knew Anthony talk about his smile as if it were a living thing bright, warm, and impossible to ignore. “His smile lit up the room,” Tyra says. “Even if I was having the worst day, he’d walk in, flash that grin or crack a joke, and suddenly everything was ok.”
Friends recall how he could turn an ordinary afternoon into something memorable. Whether it was a pickup basketball game, a dance‑off in the kitchen, or just sitting around talking, Anthony had a way of making people feel seen and valued.
“He was the kind of kid who made you feel like you mattered,” says Brianna Johnson, his teacher. “He had this mix of humor and kindness that’s rare at that age.”
Anthony’s loyalty wasn’t just for his friends, it was deeply rooted in his family. He was close to his parents, often spending time with them even when other teens might have pulled away. “He didn’t mind hanging out with us,” Anthony Sr. says with a small smile. “We’d watch games together, talk about sports, or just sit and joke around.”
He was also a protective and caring presence for those younger than him. “He had a big heart,” Tyra says. “If someone needed help, he’d be the first to step up.”
In the weeks after his passing, the Pinckney home filled with stories from friends and relatives sharing memories, laughing through tears. They talked about his dance moves, his love for sports, his knack for making even the most serious person crack a smile.
One cousin recalled how Anthony once insisted on teaching her a basketball trick he’d just learned, refusing to give up until she got it right. “That was him,” she said. “Encouraging, patient, and just so full of joy.”
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