Katrina Juanita Crump knew that her fourth child would be her last, so she gave him her initials “KJ.”
Born on March 9, 2002 in the Frankford section of Philadelphia, Kamaj Juanir Rudd was his mother’s sweetheart and a little gentleman. Whenever he saw her truck returning from work, he asked her about her day and offered to carry her bag or give her a back rub.
“Mom, calm down, you need a massage,” he cooed.
To his three older siblings (Jerry Crump, Miyah Rudd and Brian Rudd Jr.), young Kamaj could be a pain when he stood in front of the television, blocking their view, or kept poking at his sister until she erupted, “Kamaj, stop playin’!”
Yet family was central to Kamaj’s life. He planned holiday gatherings and adored being the “big kid,” (aka “Uncle Maj”) with his nieces and nephews, accompanying them to Sesame Place, flipping them upside down, wrestling them to the ground, and generally riling them up. He then gladly deposited them back in the arms of their mother or grandmother.
Kamaj’s relationship with his own father was strained; he could not hide his disappointment when his dad failed to show up for planned outings over the years, Katrina explained.
Kamaj and Katrina
As a result, her son always felt that he had something to prove, she continued.
“The worst people made him feel powerful,” she said. “He wanted to fit in. He wanted to feel special.”
On September 14, 2021, Kamaj was fatally shot on the 2700 block of North Howard Street in West Kensington. He had been buying snacks at a gas station with his two friends. Upon their exit, Kamaj was walking ahead when one of the friends decided to rob another customer, according to a video of the incident viewed by Katrina.
The customer pulled out a gun and the two friends fled in their car, leaving Kamaj on the ground, Katrina said. Police responded at 8:14 p.m. and found Kamaj with multiple gunshot wounds. He died that night at Temple University Hospital and is buried in Mount Peace Cemetery.
A suspect was arrested on June 6, 2022 and charged with Kamaj’s murder. A trial is pending.
“He was so naïve,” said Kamaj’s sister, Miyah, who encouraged him to take a different path. Kamaj had been looking forward to earning his high school diploma that December from Excel Academy South and moving to Florida to live closer to Brian and take up a trade.
Miyah and Kamaj used to bond over the idiocy of the “Scream” slasher movie franchise. Kamaj enjoyed introducing Miyah to various TV series that he had already watched and ruining pivotal scenes in advance.
Kamaj was a hyper child who played basketball, football and baseball. He dressed like Brian and attempted to tag along with his older siblings and hang out with their friends. He longed to turn 13 years old, Katrina recalled, because he just knew that something would change when he officially became a teenager.
“I feel the same,” he sullenly admitted to his mom on that monumental birthday, which involved trips to TGI Fridays and Sky Zone trampoline park.
As his siblings asserted more independence and succeeded in school, Kamaj felt less accomplished and began placing his trust in “friends” who did not deserve it,” his mother said.
Although he only had two-and-a-half credits left before he could graduate high school, Kamaj was unable to concentrate during online lessons, courtesy of the COVID-19 pandemic. He turned his webcam off, pulled a hood over his face and slept, Katrina remembered.
When it came to math, however, Kamaj could calculate the exact cost of groceries from the corner store and tally the correct change. He wasn’t stimulated at school, his mom said, and preferred the adrenaline rush of an arcade, bowling alley or rollercoaster.
Kamaj spent his 18th birthday in Saint Gabriel’s Hall in Audobon, a residential program for court-adjudicated youth, after he was discovered riding in a car stolen by one of his “friends,” Katrina said.
She prefers to remember her son slurping his favorite pasta alfredo and assembling furniture for his girlfriend’s family.
Kamaj with his siblings
“Kamaj has always been my high-priced kid,” she chuckled, noting that he favored Gucci and Nike. When Katrina refused, her husband, Troy Reed, kept Kamaj’s expensive sneaker collection well-stocked.
Troy, who was a stable male presence in Kamaj’s life since he was five years old, tried to educate his stepson on the importance of street smarts and personal responsibility. Kamaj enjoyed imitating Troy’s stern voice when he threatened to sell Kamaj’s video games.
“Get in here and clean that room up or I’m taking the game,” Kamaj bellowed.
Two years before his death, Kamaj surprised Katrina with a tattoo of her name across his neck. Initially, she was upset that he did it without telling her, but she quickly softened.
“I wanted to get your name on my body,” he confided in her. “I didn’t want to wait until after you died.”
Resources are available for people and communities that have endured gun violence in Philadelphia. Click here for more information.
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