By Michael Phillips | Father & Co.
Five years ago, Wayne Lynch’s life divided into two parts:
Before March 26, 2021.
And everything after.
On that night at the Virginia Beach Oceanfront — a night already marked by chaos and multiple shootings — Wayne’s 25-year-old son, Donovon Lynch, was shot and killed by a Virginia Beach police officer.
The legal system would later call it self-defense.
But for Wayne Lynch, the story never ended with a grand jury report.
It began there.
A Son, Not a Headline
In the years since his death, Donovon Lynch has been described in official documents as an individual encountered during a chaotic emergency scene.
But to Wayne, Donovon was never an “individual at a hedge line.”
He was his son.
A former college athlete.
A young business owner.
A mentor in youth basketball circles.
A man preparing to help organize a basketball camp in the community before he was killed.
Wayne speaks about Donovon not in legal language, but in memory — the kind only a parent carries.
“My son didn’t get to tell his side,” he has said in interviews. “He didn’t get a day in court.”
Five years later, Wayne is still fighting to defend his son’s name — not just to question how he died, but to insist on who he was.
What the System Concluded
In November 2021, a Special Grand Jury concluded there was no probable cause to charge Officer Solomon Simmons. After reviewing extensive video footage, witness testimony, and forensic evidence, the grand jury determined the officer acted in justifiable self-defense.
The criminal case was closed.
The officer was not charged.
That conclusion stands.
But the Lynch family’s position has never been that the system failed to review evidence.
It is that the system failed to restore trust.
The Questions That Wouldn’t Go Away
Wayne Lynch has repeated the same concerns for five years:
- Why was the officer’s body camera not activated at the critical moment?
- Were clear warnings given?
- Did Donovon know he was encountering a police officer?
- Why was Donovon moved after he was shot?
- Could medical intervention have been faster?
The Special Grand Jury addressed many of these issues and rejected allegations of wrongdoing.
But Wayne has never accepted that the answers feel complete.
For a father, “no probable cause” does not erase the moment his son fell.
The Attorney — and the Attempt to Shift the Focus
The Special Grand Jury report included an additional recommendation: investigation of the family’s attorney, Jeff Reichert, for possible perjury.
For Wayne Lynch, that moment felt like something else was happening — that the focus had shifted away from the death of his son and onto the credibility of the person advocating for him.
Reichert was later investigated and cleared. No perjury charges were filed.
The clearance mattered.
It meant that the cloud cast over the family’s legal advocate did not result in prosecution.
But for Wayne, the episode reinforced a painful pattern: every time he pushed harder, the system pushed back.
The Civilian Review Board — and Another Silence
Recently, Virginia Beach’s Independent Citizen Review Board reviewed the case.
The board failed to reach consensus.
No findings.
No recommendations.
No formal advisory opinion.
To city officials, the process functioned within its rules.
To Wayne Lynch, it felt like another door closing without answers.
A civilian oversight body exists to help restore public confidence.
When it cannot reach agreement in one of the most consequential cases in recent city history, what message does that send to a father who has waited five years?
The Fight for Innocence
Wayne Lynch’s advocacy is not abstract.
He is not arguing technical standards of probable cause.
He is fighting for his son’s innocence.
Donovon was never charged with a crime that night.
He never stood trial.
He never had the opportunity to explain what he was doing in those final seconds.
The city’s civil defense frames the situation as chaotic, as split-second, as a perception of threat.
Wayne frames it differently.
He sees a young man with a future — one whose life ended without the kind of clarity that brings peace to a family.
Five years later, he is still asking why.
A Father’s Calendar
Every anniversary reopens the wound.
Every headline replays the night.
Every institutional decision — the grand jury finding, the perjury investigation, the review board deadlock — becomes another milestone in a timeline Wayne never asked to live through.
He has channeled his grief into action, helping create the Donovon & Wayne Lynch Foundation to honor his son’s memory and continue community engagement in Hampton Roads.
But advocacy is not closure.
It is endurance.
What Five Years Means
Five years is long enough for institutions to declare finality.
It is not long enough for a father to stop fighting.
The legal system has spoken.
The officer was cleared.
The attorney was cleared.
The review board could not decide.
Yet Wayne Lynch still wakes up without his son.
And in his mind, until the answers feel complete — until the public record feels reconciled with the man he knew — the case is not over.
The Divide That Remains
There are residents of Virginia Beach who believe the Special Grand Jury’s findings are definitive.
There are others who believe oversight mechanisms did not go far enough.
And there is Wayne Lynch — who lives every day in the space between legality and loss.
Five years later, this case is no longer just about what happened in seconds at the Oceanfront.
It is about whether a city can look a grieving father in the eye and say, with moral clarity, that everything possible was done.
Right now, Wayne Lynch does not believe that answer has been given.
And until it is — he will continue to fight for his son.
Additional commentary on VABayNews — Five Years Later: Review Board Deadlock Reignites Debate Over Donovon Lynch Shooting
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