PHILADELPHIA — The victims of the mass shooting in Kingsessing died going about their daily life: walking to get food, checking on a friend, responding to neighbors in need.
They were aspiring college athletes and twin brothers; loving sons and fathers. They had plans — one to walk his daughter down the aisle, another to propose to the love of his life.
But all of that was cut short when a man with a gun walked through the Southwest Philadelphia community and shot people at random. The shooting spree left five dead and two children, ages 2 and 13, injured in one of the deadliest shootings in Philadelphia's history.
The violence upended a close-knit community and left victims' families overwhelmed with grief and questioning why this happened. In the aftermath, relatives shared the details and moments that made their loved ones so special, and why they will never be forgotten.
Da'Juan Brown, 15
Da'Juan Brown was born in Philadelphia on Sept. 21, 2007. As the middle child of three, and one of 19 grandchildren, he had a tight bond with his siblings and cousins, and was seen as the "baby of the family," said his grandmother Odessa Brown.
Da'Juan — known by most as Juan Juan — had just finished his sophomore year at Pan American Academy Charter School in North Philadelphia, though he grew up in South Philadelphia, near 26th and Tasker Streets, Brown said.
When his grandmother moved to Kingsessing five years ago, she said, Da'Juan would frequently come over to stay the night. He was eager to see his friends in the neighborhood, she said, and get away from the gun violence near the South Philadelphia home.
"It was a new start," she said.
Da'Juan loved to make his family laugh and record dances for TikTok, and he could make friends with anyone. He never left home without looking his best, always dressed in a clean outfit, and often borrowing his grandmother's socks to complete the look.
"I never had any socks when I needed them," Brown said, joking.
An athlete from the time he was a young child, Da'Juan loved football and basketball. His dream was to go to college on a basketball scholarship, and play point guard. He enjoyed going to the park with his Pop Pop.
Da'Juan was fatally shot after he responded to the sounds of gunfire, worried about his best friend who'd just walked up the street, Brown said. He found his friend, who'd been shot in the leg and ran to get help, she said, but before he could, he was shot.
"He always wanted to protect everybody," his grandma said, standing near a memorial for him on the street. "That's how he wound up here."
Lashyd Merritt, 21
Lashyd Merritt was building a life.
Merritt, 21, was working for the IRS and saving up to buy his first car, his family said. The Overbrook High School graduate was the youngest of five children and eager to do big things.
Lamika Merritt, Lashyd's older sister, said he wanted to travel the world.
He had returned from a trip to New Orleans in June, enraptured by the city's thriving culture, she said. And just days before his death, he'd come back from visiting his girlfriend's family in Maryland.
"I think what he loved about traveling was the fact he could get away from all of this," said his sister, referring to gun violence in the neighborhood.
But as Merritt walked to get food across the street from his home, he was fatally shot.
"He's a good person," his sister said. "He's a happy person. He's always laughing, always smiling, always joking."
His family has built a memorial of prayer candles, a stuffed fox, and loving messages on the corner where he was killed.
"It's something to represent the love we have for him," said Merritt's cousin Russell Williams, 37. The shooter "took someone that was loved by everyone."
Merritt's mother, Marie Merritt, has questioned the randomness of the violence, and why her youngest child, who she said stayed out of trouble and had plans to propose to his girlfriend, had to fall victim.
"You didn't have to do what you did," she said, as if speaking to the shooter.
But on a recent day, she was speechless, looking on in silence as a loved one added white and yellow flowers to her son's memorial.
Dymir Stanton, 29
Dymir Stanton died springing into action to help his neighbors.
He was outside his Frazier Street home, hanging out with his brother and friends, when they heard gunshots around the corner. Immediately, they ran to see whether someone needed aid. In the process, Stanton was shot multiple times.
He was the father to a 4-year-old daughter, whom he loved and did everything for, said his aunt, Olivia Puelo.
Stanton's family remembered him as a calm, collective person. He came over to his aunt's house on Frazier Street to visit and help out nearly every day, said his cousin Robert Brownlee. He worked a few jobs, including as an Uber and grocery delivery driver, Brownlee said. Stanton was also a big Philadelphia sports fan, especially the Sixers, said his aunt Willa Dill, and when he wasn't working, he hung out with friends in the neighborhood, often sitting on the porch and talking.
Even when it felt as if things were falling apart, such as when his mother died two years ago, he had a sense of optimism and carried himself well, Puelo said.
"He was strong for everyone, he was the rock of the family," she said. "Like a hidden gem."
Joseph Wamah Jr., 31
Give Joseph Wamah Jr. a pen and paper, and he'd make the page come to life
The 31-year-old was a talented artist, his twin sister Josephine Wamah said, and loved sketching out the boxers featured in "Creed," his favorite film series.
"You could feel all of the energy, everything he's saying in his body, you could feel it on top of the canvas," Josephine said.
He graduated from Philadelphia's International Christian High School in 2010, according to his Facebook page, and previously worked in early childhood development.
Josephine Wamah said her brother was a good man who took care of his family. He lived with his father in their 56th Street home of about two decades and largely kept to himself, said neighbor Glenda Drew.
Drew said Wamah's family and friends called him "Jo Jo."
Ralph Moralis, 59
To his family, Ralph Moralis, 59, was the "go-to guy," and to his neighbors, the friend they could grab a beer with anytime.
He was born and raised in Philadelphia, and was a graduate of Overbrook High School, family said. He'd lived in the Kingsessing neighborhood for the last 40 years, neighbors said.
Moralis, whose nickname was "Rab," was easygoing and hardworking, friends said. He worked in food service for Aramark, typically at the sports stadiums in South Philly.
Relatives remembered Moralis as the family's connector; he made sure extended cousins knew one another and stayed in touch. If someone threw a party, Moralis was there, ready to dance to any genre of music and recruiting others to join him.
His signature look included a pair of Christian Dior sunglasses on his head and gold chain around his neck, with a toothpick dangling from his mouth.
But being a father to two daughters was his defining trait. His youngest, now 20, was "his baby," said Tamika Veney, Moralis' former partner of 25 years. When she went to college, he was so proud that he shouted it from the rooftops, relatives said.
His now-37-year-old daughter was his other source of pride. Everyone in the neighborhood knew she was getting married this weekend, and Moralis was set to walk her down the aisle.
"He was just so proud of her strength, her independence, the kind of woman that she was," said Karen Gleason, Moralis' sister-in-law. "She has such a personality, like him, always worried about everyone else, always taking care of everyone else."
His daughters, she said, "were his center, his world, his everything."
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(Staff writer Rodrigo Torrejón contributed to this reporting.)
