23-04-2025
D.C. grandmother, missing for two days, found slain in dumpster
Before police found her body Saturday in a dumpster in a Northeast Washington parking garage, Donnella Bryan had a full life, with three children and two grandchildren; an ex-husband with whom she remained close; a large, extended family; a job as a dental assistant; a love of jazz and literature; and an appetite for Surfside chicken burritos.
Authorities ruled her death a homicide — the District's 45th killing of 2025 — caused by blunt force trauma and asphyxiation. She was 62 and had been reported to police as a missing person two days earlier.
The idea of his former wife's body being discarded in a rubbish bin brings to mind 'one of these crime scene documentaries of TV shows — CSI or something,' said Timothy Bryan, with whom Donnella raised three children. 'That's exactly what it feels like. I have pits in my stomach every time I think of it.'
The police department 'does not believe the homicide was a random act, and our detectives are working the case right now,' police spokesman Thomas Lynch said, declining to comment further.
Patrol officers were flagged down Saturday morning in the 1500 block of Maryland Avenue NE after someone discovered the body 'within a plastic bin, placed inside a dumpster,' according to a police report.
For some in Donnella's life, the circumstances of her death are too shocking to accept. As they worked to inform family members, one of her nieces 'just does not believe' how her life ended, Timothy Bryan said.
Relatives are planning a memorial for her in Connecticut, where Donnella grew up in a family of nine children and later raised three children with her then-husband in the suburb of Norwalk, near Long Island Sound.
She had spunk. She came fiercely to her kids' defense when necessary, recalled the younger of her two daughters, who spoke on the condition of anonymity because she is concerned for her safety. When Donnella's son was a first-grader, he was afraid to raise his hand in class, and a stern teacher gave him a hard time about it. But after Donnella spoke to the teacher about the issue, the teacher never bothered the boy in that way again, the daughter said.
Donnella and Timothy divorced in the 1990s but continued to live together and raise their children. They later began living in separate homes after their younger daughter left Connecticut for Howard University in D.C., but the former couple remained close, the daughter said.
Donnella moved to the D.C. area in 2015 to be near the daughter. An avid reader who kept her home filled with books by African American writers, Donnella had inspired her younger daughter to attend the historically Black university. Her daughter wrote her admissions essay about Ralph Ellison's 1952 novel 'The Invisible Man.'
Donnella liked so much about D.C. — its diversity, its thriving community of Black professionals and, not least of all, the chicken burritos at the Surfside chain of Mexican restaurants. And she would tell her younger daughter, now in her 30s, not to get too stressed about the ups and downs of dating in the city — to just enjoy her life and friends.
She spent most of her career as a dental assistant. Her colleagues from the dentist's office were texting with her family on Tuesday; they had been crying all morning, they said, and planned to send flowers.
Having moved to a new place, away from many of her Connecticut friends, Donnella did not know many people in D.C. at first — but she was comfortable doing things alone. She would go by herself to shoot pool or out to eat, and she would meet people along the way, the daughter said. She liked to watch boxing matches and cowboy movies. And she loved jazz, especially singer Will Downing. She once won tickets to a concert of his in New York in a radio station giveaway.
She and Timothy raised hardworking, successful children, he said. They had so many good times; the family has been looking through the old photos that prove it.
'Those pictures are going to make us smile and laugh,' Timothy said. 'The memories — it's going to be the memories.'
Over the phone, he reflected on another memory: the time more than two decades ago when Donnella had helped save his life. His asthma acted up on a hot day, and he gasped for air as he came out of the shower. He collapsed. She gave him CPR. When they got to the hospital, family members recalled, doctors said she had made a difference — that he could have died.
Now, Donnella is gone, and 'I'm still here,' he said. 'It's just so devastating to us.'
