How basketball bonded MOT Charter mother and son through family tragedy

The routine that comes with being a committed basketball player and student has helped Justin Duncombe most.

School. Practice. Dinner. Sleep. Repeat.

"Honestly, it sounds, like, depressing," Justin says. "But I really, really like doing that."

Justin was 10 years old when his older brother William Toney didn't show up to their family's Philadelphia home for Thanksgiving. A few days before, Toney said he was with a group of friends. Not much is known beyond that. He has been missing for more than seven years.

Investigators eventually told their mother, Michelle Duncombe, that Toney is likely dead.

The years that have followed have been stricken with grief. Michelle describes a daily struggle. There are no answers that will quiet her head. It's not something Justin talks about.

Michelle says that basketball is "the thing that kind of saved us." There's no getting past their family tragedy, but the hardcourt offered a reprieve. There is something in the game's rhythms and the way it demands attention from a wandering mind.

Three years ago, the family moved from Philadelphia to the Middletown area. Justin recently finished his senior season as a leading scorer at MOT Charter. Michelle coaches the school's girls team.

"We were lost," Michelle said. "And we needed something that gave us hope."

'I was worried all the time'

William Dorien Toney's photo is still splashed on the front page of the website for the East Lansdowne Police Department. He wears a solemn expression, tight black hair and a gray hoodie.

Michelle described Toney as a "very silly kid." Maybe a level of naivety came along with that, she thinks upon reflection.

"He just might have just connected with the wrong people," she said. "Everybody isn't raised the same. And I would tell him that like, 'you see people and they don't have necessarily people who care about [them] at home.' I think that he was a little like naive in that sense. That silliness made him a little naive to how people could be."

Sgt. James Cadden, the case's lead detective, suggested Toney fell in with a bad crowd, seeking a lifestyle he wasn't cut out for.

"William was a mama's boy," Cadden said.

Toney said he was with a group of friends the night of Nov. 18, 2016, when he told Michelle he wouldn't be coming home for dinner as planned. At the time, Toney was living with a friend in a West Philadelphia apartment, working at Macy's in Center City and preparing to start classes at the Community College of Philadelphia. He had just been paid and had gotten a new iPhone for his 20th birthday.

Toney was last known to be in the Darby/Sharon Hill area, more than five miles from Overbrook where the Duncombes lived. His iPhone last pinged near 52nd Street in West Philadelphia.

Michelle contacted the police once Toney missed Thanksgiving. It eventually progressed from a missing person case to a more detailed investigation. "They assume either he ran away or he was with someone," she said after noting Toney's clean background. "It took a couple of days for them to say, 'ok, this is not normal.'"

But the police's case fizzled. Michelle hired a private investigator. She tried for weeks to get on TV news stations and online media outlets. She eventually did. Nothing turned up.

Michelle became hopeless, her everyday posture laced with fear.

She worried about her middle son Keldon Jr.'s walk to catch the train to school. She worried about how her efforts to protect her sons would affect them.

"I was worried all the time," Michelle said.

Leaving a mark

Justin's basketball journey began when he was in fifth grade, shortly after his brother's disappearance. It coincided with his mother's return to the gym some years after she played at Morgan State and the Community College of Philadelphia.

Michelle signed Justin up to play at Saint Francis Cabrini, a Catholic school near their Overbrook home. Michelle, taking time away from work, became a regular face at the school. Soon someone told her they needed a girls basketball coach.

"Everything kind of fell into place," Michelle said. "Those parents, they knew what was going on. They were supportive.... This was something where with all of the things that I was kind of struggling with, I can just take myself and give it to someone else."

Talking about Justin, she later added: "It's kind of what started to bond us."

Justin has a reputation as a quiet kid. His family can't help but think it has something to do with what happened with his oldest brother.

When Bob Wright coached Justin in middle school, he didn't know the sound of Justin's voice at first. The longer he's coached, the more players he's seen lack communication skills, important in his context not necessarily for social reasons but for defensive rotations and offensive trust.

Wright saw Ken Abney, a well-regarded track and field coach who'd train athletes of all sports for speed, pull more out of Justin with an old school, no-nonsense coaching style. Closer up, he found that the more Justin became acquainted with his sons, the more he would open up.

Justin's physicality on the court has always demanded respect. Wright remembers the first time he saw Justin dunk. It was before his eighth grade year. Suddenly, a high flyer broke the team's layup line. A few holy expletives were thrown around the gym.

"He was transforming his body from a boy body to a man body," Wright said. "He was just a terror to guys who weren't as athletic as he was."

Last summer, Justin thought about the end of his high school athletic career. He considered the work he had already put in to build up his 6-foot-2 frame and the chemistry his teammates were forging. Collectively, there had been a lot of progress. But their goals were higher.

What would he do to leave a mark?

"That idea really drove me," he said.

MOT Charter is no longer the newest high school in the Middletown-Odessa-Townsend area, but its relative youth (its first graduating class exited in 2018) compared to its northern New Castle County counterparts shows in its bright facilities and its sub-par basketball record.

The Mustangs won four games in Justin's first season, which tied a school record. This year, the win total bumped up to 16 and the team reached the DIAA boys basketball tournament for the first time.

Duncombe was the running mate to Carlton Smith, a slight, slick-shooting and crafty guard. Duncombe offered his muscle on the glass and showcased a soft touch in the paint as the team's second-leading scorer. He routinely defended the opposition's best perimeter threat.

"He's been an inside-out presence for us," said fifth-year MOT Charter coach Eric Epstein. "I'm biased, but I think he's one of the best defenders in the state. He has so many deflections, so many steals. He blocks a lot of shots."

MOT Charter three years ago provided Justin and his family a new start. The school's culture felt similar to what they were used to at Archbishop Carroll, the Radnor Catholic school Justin attended his freshman year. But the pace of the surrounding community felt slower. The change would take the family away from painful reminders in Philadelphia.

Justin made deep connections with his MOT Charter teammates. Michelle says that something clicks when Justin is around them and reveals a side of him she hadn't seen much before. The calls on defense aren't much of an issue.

"The thing I think that people like about him, it's just that he hustles. He's a good kid," Michelle said. "The biggest compliment that we get is that he's not only a good player, but he's a decent guy."

Justin entered his senior year striving to "put everything I've done throughout my entire life out on the floor.

"For everyone."

'Nobody knows'

The connection between Michelle and Justin is on display at MOT Charter home games. Michelle and her husband Keldon have an unofficial assigned seat: the first row just right of half court near the gym entrance.

Justin looks over throughout the game. Michelle shakes inside with nervous energy.

Most people in Middletown don't know what they and their family have been through. There's no easy way to bring it up in casual conversations. She kept to herself when the family moved three years ago, wanting to avoid being marked as the new family in town with the tragic past.

One of the hardest questions Michelle faces is an innocent one. How many kids do you have? She says she has three, and her oldest is away.

As Justin prepares to graduate — he'll finish the year on MOT Charter's baseball team — Michelle wanted to speak to a reporter to let people know "it's not just basketball."

"This kid has done amazing things in extraordinary circumstances and I just wanted to share it with someone."

The sound of waves crashing on sand has a calming effect. Scientists have shown it produces the opposite of a "fight or flight" response. The power of waves is often harnessed at a spiritual level, too, symbolizing unpredictability, renewal or growth.

Above the Duncombe's kitchen table is a print of the ocean's edge with a sign pointing in multiple directions. It has three names: Justin, KJ and Will.

Brandon Holveck reports on high school sports for The News Journal. Contact him at bholveck@delawareonline.com .

This article originally appeared on Delaware News Journal: How basketball bonded MOT Charter mother and son through family tragedy