But Aamir was an outlier, a boy who had found his calling and built his life around it. He had become one of the brightest fixtures in his corner of Jamaica, a tight-knit community where neighbors watch out for one another.

They knew his grin, the one he flashed that made his deep-set dimples appear. Playful and lighthearted, he had one of those belly laughs, so infectious, even if you didn’t know what was funny. He was charismatic, easy to be around, but took care to show others respect. When he stopped by the local convenience store to order a chopped cheese with jalapeños, he would offer to help the owner stack the shelves.

“He was nothing but joy,” said his friend Daja, 15, who declined to give her surname.

Aamir liked to dance and play video games. But he defined himself through basketball.

He had been a chubby child, round cheeks, short stature. It didn’t matter. He played as if he were tall and lithe, always working drills, challenging friends, entering tournaments. He walked around with a basketball tucked in the crook of his arm, and passers-by knew to ask him about his game. He idolized Kyrie Irving, Kevin Durant, LeBron James, Stephen Curry.

The love of the sport had come from his father. The fire that drove him was all his.

“He was more determined than all of us,” his friend Billy Jeanfrancois , 14, said. “He was like, ‘I’m going to lose and come back stronger.’”

Aamir was thrilled to make his middle school team. When they lost their first game, he cried. At a matchup later in the season, the team was again close to defeat.

“Then Aamir started draining threes,” recalled Shamel McCallum, 14, who lives in the same public housing complex as Aamir did. “He was the clutch player.”