In my previous position as Pitch music editor, I covered countless Club Wars bouts, local rap feuds and even a couple of musical showdowns that involved Restivo himself. But I'd never seen these figurative battles actually turn violent. And soon enough, word spread that Restivo's band affiliation had nothing to do with his death.
Other news accounts have noted the tension between the Jesuit, upscale, all-male Rockhurst and nearby Center High School, a more typical urban public school. For me, that suggestion, that Restivo's knifing death might have had something to do with the school he attended, had more resonance.
A graduate of "Jockhurst" myself, I'd witnessed firsthand the aggressive, clenched-fist culture for which the school was known. At the time, it tended to separate students into testosterone-fueled sadists and their terrorized prey.
But faculty at the school, backed up by current students, tell me the climate at Rockhurst has changed in the decade since I graduated. And though former students from both Rockhurst and Center were involved in the clash February 6, witnesses at the scene tell me the rivalry between the schools had nothing to do with what drew the musician to Rockhurst's parking lot.
Instead, Restivo's friends say the disagreement that ended in his death arose over accusations by a Bishop Miege High School student who suspected that his girlfriend had received drugs from a close friend of Restivo's. Restivo's friend denied it. But recriminations flew between the two young men, and soon the squabble had spread until it involved mere acquaintances who had little reason to get involved.
On the night of Restivo's death, the boyfriend who had alleged wrongdoing wasn't even present. In his stead, a group of ten to twelve people, some of whom the boyfriend barely knew, sources say, had gathered in Rockhurst's parking lot to wait for Restivo and his friends.
Between 9 and 9:30 p.m., Restivo and two other boys arrived at the parking lot in three different cars, each following the other in a caravan. (Restivo's two companions asked to remain unidentified for this story.)
When they pulled in, they could see the large group waiting for them in the back of a pickup truck. As they'd been warned, the group was armed.
Rather than turn around and drive off, however, the three parked. Restivo emerged from his white Chevrolet holding a baseball bat.
Still, his friends say, the singer approached the large group of rivals as if he intended to talk his way through the situation.
Restivo was so confident that he would defuse things with his charm and reason, his friends say, he'd even planned to catch a movie later that night.
Instead, Restivo found himself fending off the attack of a bat-wielding foe. And as Restivo tried to defend himself, another combatant came up from the side or behind and plunged a blade into his throat.
Restivo's friends rushed him to a hospital, but he was dead within an hour of the stabbing.
Kansas City homicide detectives ended their investigation on February 27, handing over the case file to Jackson County prosecutors, who will decide as early as this week whether to file charges.
Several days after Restivo's death, more than 2,000 people showed up at his wake -- a stunning number considering his young age but less surprising, perhaps, to anyone familiar with the remarkable "rude boy" frontman, a talented musician and constant proselytizer for a worldview that seemed almost impossibly positive.
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