The court room looks like an unfinished basement: dim; dark, wooden walls; dirty industrial-like tile that scuffs when you rub your shoes against it.

Anthony DiPonzio's mother and father are in the front row. Spectators carrying heavy coats stride purposely forward: "I'm so sorry..."

Dozens of gold and silver badged Rochester cops sit in the back of the room and line the corridor outside. They greet each other with nods and handshakes. White-shirted deputies stand at the front of the room - looking over the crowd, like they teach performers to do.  

Tyquan Rivera has his hands cuffed behind his back. The top of his head comes to the middle of the chest of the officer walking him in. He walks the way boys do when they're trying to look tough.

Rivera's is accused of shooting Anthony DiPonzio with a .22-caliber rifle.

DiPonzio was 9 when Rivera was born.

TV waits outside to catch family, friends as they leave. Some young girls say they don't want to be interviewed, but talk loudly to each other a few feet from the cameras: "Look what they say he got shot with - a big-ass rifle."

Rivera's arraignment is over. On the other side of the building, the line to get into City Court stretches far out into the cold.