DeChe MorrisonThe day before, Martin Luther King Jr. was still talking about his dream, and in Olympia legislators were holding a hearing on more anti-gang laws. In a church off Southwest Roxbury, West Seattle, this morning, you could see how some of this has worked out. DeChe Morrison was up front in the sanctuary of the converted retail store and with only his forehead showing he appeared to be a small boy in a large baby blue car. Someone closed the coffin when the gospel music and clapping began and people started to ask how someone 14 years old bleeds to death in the street.”We need to have a tight relationship with our kids, all right? We need to get to know them,” said a man whose son was a friend of Morrison, shot and left to die on a Rainier Valley street twelve days ago. No one has said he was a gang banger — he may have been shot by one – although he’d had run-ins with the cops, dropped out of school, and was spending too much time on the streets. His parents say they were doing what they could. “We need to understand,” said Zachary Bruce, the young pastor of Freedom Church, “the community has not looked the other way.” The room stirred. More than 300 black folk, a dozen white, took up the pews and extra chairs. “We’re going to solve this issue.” Bruce said. “We’re sick and tired of being sick and tired.”But at the moment the bullets are flying, none of them magic. You have gang kids who have confused respect with fear, thereby requiring guns. It is a powerful thrill. The other day Damario Dilliard, 19, who is with the Deuce Eights, told police in a confession that he killed Antwon Horton, 19, of the Low Profiles last August. Dilliard beat up a Mexican and stole his gun, he says in court papers. The next day at the Dakota Apartments on 33rd South, when someone began shooting at someone else, Dilliard got excited and started pulling the trigger on his new weapon. He was “caught up in the moment,” he said. Then this month, Allen Joplin, 17, associated with the Deuce Eight, was killed, perhaps in a payback. Now DeChe Andre Morrison is dead and the gang unit, a police force assigned to children, is looking into this one, too. “It’s a safe city,” said deputy mayor Tim Ceis as he walked out into the cold sunshine after the funeral. Crime is down, murder too. “But it’s not a safe city for these kids. It’s easier to get a gun than a driver’s license.” Little DeChe came out in his big coffin and took his last ride, with police leading the cortege onto Roxbury. Away went the kid in all those childhood photos printed up in the funeral scrapbook — smiling, waving, held by his parents and sitting on Santa’s knee. In the back of the scrapbook it says “There is a reason for everything.” It just didn’t say what it was.