The shooter was once a Catholic altar boy, with a surname that could have been Jewish. His father is white, neighbors say. His mother is Hispanic. And his family is eager to point out that some of his relatives are black.
There may be no box to check for George Zimmerman, no tidy way to categorize, define and sort the man whose pull of a trigger on a darkened Florida street is forcing America to once again confront its fraught relationship with race and identity.
The victim was Trayvon Martin, an unarmed black teenager in a hoodie.
In Manassas, Va., where Zimmerman lived in the 1980s and 1990s with his parents and two siblings, neighbors tended to define the family based on their spiritual profile. "Very Catholic ... very religious," their neighbor Jim Rudzenski recalled Thursday. The children attended Catholic school through the eighth grade before going to Osbourn High School. George became an altar server and evening receptionist at All Saints Catholic Church. The Zimmermans "were known and respected in the community for their dedication and service," said Robert Cilinski, the All Saints pastor.
The father, Robert Zimmerman, is a retired military man. He could be strict. And the children's grandmother, who lived with the family, also kept a watchful eye, said Kay Hall, who lived across the street from the Zimmermans for about 20 years. George and his siblings "didn't play with the neighborhood kids," Rudzenski said. "They had to stay home and play." It was always "Yes, ma'am," "No, ma'am," Hall said.
Zimmerman's life was not without difficulties. In 2001, when he was 17 or 18, he was the victim of a minor criminal assault, said Manassas police Sgt. Eddie Rivera. The city's computer records do not provide details of the crime.
In school, Zimmerman hinted at ambitions in the business world. He joined a Future Business Leaders of America club. And in his senior yearbook, he wrote: "I'm going to Florida to work with my godfather who just bought a $1 million business."
In Florida, Zimmerman shifted his plans, enrolling in Seminole State College with hopes of becoming a law enforcement officer. He became the self-appointed protector of the streets around his home, although his neighborhood watch organization was not officially registered. Over the past eight years, he called the police department at least 46 times with reports of various sightings: open garages, suspicious people. In 2005, according to police records obtained by the Orlando Sentinel and other news organizations, Zimmerman was twice accused of either criminal misconduct or violence. He had a concealed-weapon permit and had a black Kel-Tec semiautomatic handgun and a holster the night Martin died.
