A boy climbing the steps of his gray clapboard house the day after Christmas, holding a bowl of spaghetti. A girl jumping on a trampoline. A boy asleep in the backseat of a moving car. Years or sometimes days apart, each of these children were among the many who have been struck by a stray bullet in North Minneapolis, unintended victims in a cycle of unrelenting, often random violence churning through a historic community.
Connecting them is a man who has worked on the streets as a dealer, a preacher, an addict, a mentor, and a friend, who for decades now has been a unifying, one-man force for anti-violence in Minneapolis. Since 2007, KG Wilson is called upon in his community for all manner of prayer, memorialization, and death, speaking at vigils, tying up teddy bears, and organizing angel-versaries. He’s appealed to local law enforcement and politicians, raised money for grief-stricken families, and carried blood-stained furniture from houses. He knows life on the street, and dedicated the rest of his to showing others a way out.
Wilson represents, in many ways, what the promise and the potential of North Minneapolis has been for generations of Black Minnesotans who were redlined there, proudly raised there, found upward mobility there; built community and held a sacred residential and commerical ground there amid turbulent changes, most recently the murder of George Floyd and the upheaval that came in his wake. He thought he was unshakable. But on May 18, 2021, his six-year-old granddaughter Aniya Allen was shot in the head as she rode in the backseat of her mother’s car, choked on her french fries, and died at the hospital two days after the bullet ricocheted inside her head.
The world through Wilson’s eyes has been in constant freefall since. This story follows him through his work, his connections in the community, and his grief, as Aniya’s killer continues to walk free among the community he considered family. It explores the question of what it means to seek justice, to want retribution, and to confront one’s self and one’s community in the grips of violence — and to live with the unknown.
“I had so much love. I was willing to give my life daily in Minneapolis, for total strangers. I stood up to the murderers and the killers, and I called them out and told them they were wrong. I was there,” he said. “And I feel like all I got in return was a murdered 6-year-old, innocent grandchild. That’s what I feel like the city of Minneapolis gave me.”
