By the time Dondre Johnson was a teenager, his mother had begun to suspect something. Johnson was a tall, thin boy with a timid smile. In most ways he seemed like an average child, trooping around the neighborhood with his stepbrother and stepsister, and playing trumpet in the Norland High School marching band. “He loved dancing, singing, and he loved Michael Jackson,” recalls Clara Duncan, who had married Cleveland Duncan, a pharmacist, when Dondre was four years old. “At one point he wanted to be a vet, and then he changed over to nursing.”Duncan is sitting in the living room of the family's Carol City home, a suburban ranch house in a black, middle-class neighborhood of quiet streets and manicured lawns. She is an articulate, educated woman, currently in nursing school herself. “When he was a teenager,” Duncan says, “I started to see Dondre change. I saw him using colored contact lenses. He didn't even wear glasses. When I asked he said, “Oh, this is just a fad.' Then I started to see what I thought was makeup on his face. He said he was seeing a dermatologist, and the dermatologist told him this would help clean up his face. I said, “No, Dondre, I don't think a doc... More >>>