Last week was rather Dickensian for me. It began by seeing a group of Buddhist monks pass through my city on their Walk for Peace. Hundreds and hundreds of people lined their path in reverence and were lifted by the wake of hope they left behind. It was the best of times – and I did not want that glorious day to end.
And my week ended watching and rewatching videos of an American citizen being shot dead by a gang of ICE agents – one of whom applauded after the victim lay dead on the street in front of a bakery in Minneapolis. It was the worst of times – and it feels as if these horrific days will never end.
You all know by now that Alex Pretti, the man executed by ICE agents on Saturday morning, was an ICU nurse at the Veterans Affairs hospital in Minneapolis. Jesus, irony can sometimes be as bitter cold as a Minnesota winter. Alex Pretti was a helper – by all accounts a kind man who held a deep respect for the veterans he served. In the aftermath of his death, the son of a deceased veteran who Pretti had cared for posted a video of Pretti giving his father a final salute in a hospital corridor as he somberly read aloud from text that began with these lines:
“Today, we remember that freedom is not free. We have to work at it, nurture it, protect it and even sacrifice for it.”
Like any reasonable American, I was appalled that Pretti was killed exercising his First Amendment freedoms, and his connection to veterans made my heart ache even more. The grandfather I was named for was a veteran of both world wars and my father served in the Army. And I worked as a development officer for the Paralyzed Veterans of America (PVA) for eight years. I was responsible for cultivating planned gifts – bequests, trusts and annuities – and would always visit the local Veteran’s hospital whenever I was meeting with donors. These hospitals are deeply attuned to the veteran experience, and you certainly feel a sense of respect for service and love of country when you spend time in one – especially when you see some of the collateral damage left behind by combat.
And I think that’s why I mourned Pretti’s senseless and unnecessary death even more deeply when I learned he cared for veterans. And I’m certain that is why I was utterly consumed with rage when Kristi “ICE Barbie” Noem and other federal agents immediately tried to defame Pretti’s reputation and described him as a domestic terrorist who had taken to the streets to sow carnage. We’ve all seen the videos – deep gratitude to Pink Coat Lady who risked her own safety to record the definitive angle of the murder on her own deadly weapon – an iPhone. Hey Siri – Please save us.
“The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” is a well-known 1970’s spoken-word/song by Gil Scott-Heron that condemns passive consumerism and argues that real change only happens in the streets – and not by watching TV. I guess the song could be updated to include doom scrolling. As it turns out, the revolution will be live-streamed, and that is what is saving us, and democracy, these days.
Alex Pretti knew this and he was an active participant in what Rachel Maddow eloquently describes as “principled, peaceful, and relentless protest.” And he paid the ultimate price – his one, precious life. And cue the irony again – yesterday, the Trump administration – reacting to the massive public outrage over Pretti’s killing, booted Gregory Bovino – the Nazi Munchkin in charge of immigration operations in Minnesota – and signaled that the number of federal agents in Minneapolis would be reduced. And just this morning, we learned that the chief federal judge in Minnesota has ordered the head of ICE to appear in court on Friday for a hearing on contempt for violating court orders.
Enough? Not even close, but it’s a start and none of it would not have happened without the good and brave people of Minnesota taking their ire over how their neighbors are being treated to the streets – in sub-zero temps mind you. Operation Metro Surge – the ICE mission in Minneapolis – was doomed from the start. For starters, don’t invade a city full of descendants of Vikings in the dead of winter.
I just know that a modest group of Buddhist monks in plain robes and throngs of Minnesotans in puffer coats have given me tangible hope that better days are ahead. But as Alex Pretti knew all too well – we have to work at it.
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