Curtis Byers, a 25-year-old Black man, was killed in the predawn hours of October 1, 2016, when gunfire erupted on Buffalo’s East Side and drew police rushing toward the 200 block of Sherman Street. Just before 2:30 a.m., officers arrived to find him suffering from multiple gunshot wounds, the kind of injuries that turn a street corner into a crime scene in seconds.
Detectives began working the area immediately, trying to piece together what happened in the moments before the shots, and whether anyone nearby had seen a shooter flee into the night.
At the scene, investigators treated the shooting as an active homicide investigation, scanning for witnesses, surveillance, and anything left behind that could identify who pulled the trigger. Early reports described police searching for the suspect, but they did not publicly name a shooter or announce an arrest at that time, leaving the case suspended in the uneasy quiet that follows sudden violence. With few official details released beyond the location and timing, the unanswered questions centered on the same basics: who confronted him, what sparked the gunfire, and how the killer managed to disappear before officers arrived.
As daylight replaced the flashing lights, the investigation leaned heavily on the public for help. Buffalo police directed anyone with information to contact their confidential tip line, underscoring that even a small detail—a vehicle, a face, a direction of flight—could matter when a shooting unfolds late at night and leaves little behind except shell casings and fear. The city’s brief official updates left room for rumor, but the public record from those initial days stayed focused on the same urgent request: come forward, quietly if necessary, and help detectives identify the person responsible.
In the days that followed, his death was marked not only by an investigation but by mourning rituals that anchored his name to places and people who knew him. Notices for his services listed a wake and funeral held at True Bethel Baptist Church on East Ferry Street, followed by burial at Forest Lawn Cemetery, turning the week after the shooting into a passage from shock to goodbye for those who gathered to remember him.
