I recently celebrated my godson’s 21st birthday in June at Carson’s Ribs in downtown Chicago. We all laughed and joked as Christion Tucker tried red wine for the first time. Last week Christion was to begin his job at Project H.O.O.D., the non-profit I lead that works every day to build up our community by reducing violence.
Then, I got a call two weeks ago on a Sunday in August from his mother and the news shocked me. Christion had been shot multiple times while sitting in his car and he was no longer alive. As of now, we do not know why he was killed. All we know is that his death was senseless.
He was the last kid you would expect this to happen to. He was not a statistic. He was not "oh-he’s-from-the-South-Side-that’s-why." He came from a good family that loved him dearly. He was a good soul with so much to give to this world.
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I met Christion through another family tragedy. In 2018, Christion’s 15-year-old brother, Chauncy, died in a crash involving a snow plow. This tore the family up.
I tried to be there as much as I could for them. Christion and I just began developing a deeper and deeper connection. It was organic — like we were meant to walk this earth together. When his mother, Shenee Benson, asked me to be Christion’s godfather I was honored.
Christion was very close to his younger brother, and I’ve seen how tragedies like these can lead an individual down the wrong path. They begin to question the world, lose faith, and make bad decisions. But Christion didn’t. Instead, he tattooed his brother’s name on his forearm in remembrance and went to work on his future.
He finished high school and went on to junior college where he played basketball on the school's team. He also had a passion for music. Most of all, he just had an air about him that made people like and trust him, especially young people. That is why I was excited for him to begin work at Project H.O.O.D. where I knew he would make a significant impact.
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Now, I feel nothing but a profound sense of loss, a void. Every death is hard, but this one hurt especially. Part of me wonders if I failed him. I know how dangerous this neighborhood can be and was I vigilant enough? You can’t bubble wrap these kids through life but could I have done more?
I will never know the answer, but I know his life on earth meant something. His mom now must live without two wonderful sons. The world is not better off, having lost these two lives. But, at the same time, we must make both of these lives matter and count.
I will admit I had flashes of quitting after I heard the news about Christion. The pain of dealing with these deaths is excruciating. I often wonder why and what for? What meaning is to be found?
As I move forward in life, I vow to carry Christion's voice with me as I mentor each youth toward the American Dream. Maybe he did truly start his work with me as the plan was — I just didn’t expect it in this form.
