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GREENSBORO — Jacob Moncla can barely talk about it.

When he does, he pauses often. He fumbles for words. Later, he admits he can't focus, can't think, because this past week has been one big blur.

And no wonder. Bhilial Hykein Lasco — his best friend, his surrogate brother, someone Jacob had known half his life — is gone.

Bhilial died Aug. 24, on a Friday, just before 5 p.m., shot in a parking lot in northeast Greensboro during some kind of argument.

There have been no arrests. Bhilial was only 18, the fifth Greensboro teenager since April to be killed by somebody going gonzo with a gun.

Go figure.

"His life was taken from him at the point where he was making the greatest effort. He was trying his hardest, and right then, he was taken from us," says Jacob, a senior at Greensboro's Weaver Academy.

"He's not a statistic. He's not a number. He was my best friend."

We've lost 18 people in Greensboro to violence this year, five of them young men barely old enough to vote or who couldn't vote at all.

Bhilial Lasco is just the latest tragedy.

He didn't know his mother. He barely knew his father. Yet he was lucky enough to have a loving support system: his aunt, his paternal grandmother and the Moncla family, a boisterous clan of seven.

The Monclas considered Bhilial one of their own, ever since he was 8, when he rolled into their driveway in Rocky Mount and yelled from his bike, "Do you have kids at that house?''

He lived one block over. But he stayed anchored at their house. He ate dinner there, did his homework there, played football there. He became the sixth child for Andy and Kathy Moncla.

Now, the Monclas are white; Bhilial, black. They both had fun with that.

Bhilial called Andy "Cracker." And Andy's girls — Hailey, Cecilia and Emma — had a quick comeback when anyone asked about Bhilial: "He's my brotha from another motha."

But Jacob and Bhilial were the tight ones, bonded by more than blood.

They were the same age, had the same interests and protected one another.

One time, when a neighborhood bully picked on Jacob, Bhilial jumped in and beat him up. Bhilial told the bully: "You can't pick on my white brother.''

Spend time with the Monclas in their Greensboro living room, and you'll hear so many stories just like that.

Bhilial braiding the girls' hair. Bhilial reading to them the children's book "Walter the Farting Dog.'' Bhilial running full-bore into a mailbox, trying to catch a football, and walking away saying: "I'm going home. It hurts too much to play.''

Eight years ago, the Monclas moved to Greensboro to be closer to Kathy's parents. Bhilial helped them move. He even came in the moving truck to Greensboro.

Four years later, Bhilial moved to Greensboro with his aunt, Jaqueline Evans. She found a better job in retail; her nephew found a better place closer to his adopted family.

Yet, even as he continued migrating to the Moncla house — braiding hair, doing laundry, scarfing down baked ziti, his favorite food — Bhilial's life went south.

He got expelled from Page High School for fighting. He started getting arrested. And in April, he spent three weeks in jail for an attempted robbery.

When a judge dismissed Bhilial's charges, Andy Moncla did the dad thing. He got tough.

"Bhilial, it's all over now,'' he told him. "It's not on your record. You've got a fresh start. You need to get your life on track or you'll become another statistic.''

Over the next few months, the fun-loving boy the Monclas had come to love vanished. He didn't talk. He simply looked down or looked away.

Then, a few weeks ago, when Kathy Moncla offered to finish Bhilial's load of laundry, she discovered in his baggy jeans the tell-tale gang sign worn by members of the Crips: a blue bandana.

"I felt sick,'' Kathy says. "You know, we're hoping against hope. He was exonerated of all his charges, things were on the upswing. But when I found that, I went numb.''

Kathy never got a chance to talk to Bhilial about the blue bandana — or anything else. She tried on Aug. 22 when she took him to GTCC to take a high school equivalency exam.

But he was with his cousin. And he clammed up.

Two days later, she got the phone call. Bhilial was dead. She went to see Jacob, her oldest, at work. Her husband went to the hospital to identify the body.

The next morning, in the family's living room, the place where Bhilial had spent so much time, Kathy and Andy broke the news to the rest of the kids: Emma, Cecilia, Hailey and Brady.

"People who had guns shot Bhilial," Kathy told them, "and he died.''

Responded Emma, 7, sitting within arm's reach from her mom on the floor: "I know we'll see him again in heaven. He believed in Jesus, too.''

Police say those responsible may be affiliated with a gang. That's all they'll say.

But no one talked about that Friday. Under a blistering sun at Greensboro's Piedmont Cemetery, Bhilial's friends and family circled his silver casket to talk about the boy bound for the Navy next month.

And of course, the Moncla family was there.

Kathy hugged her girls and cried behind her sunglasses. Andy placed his palms on Bhilial's casket and prayed. And standing back with Brady, wearing a crisp white shirt, was Jacob.

Arms crossed, chin down, he stared until he couldn't stare anymore. His brother. His best friend. Gone.

Contact Jeri Rowe at 373-7374 or jrowe@news-record.com