His name was Brandon Williams, and he was a father, son, boyfriend, and dedicated employee.
Earlier this month Williams became a homicide victim in Dorchester, and his killing — he was shot to death in a parked car — sparked a controversy that was about everything except what it should have been about.
His death was essentially announced by his neighbor, Boston City Councilor Julia Mejia, and somehow turned into a story dominated by Mejia herself.
In a series of social media posts, Mejia used the occasion of Williams’s death to call attention to what she referred to as a community “living in fear” of violence. This was punctuated by a since-deleted Facebook Live post by Mejia from the scene of the crime that night, widely regarded as insensitive and intrusive.
Williams’s family members, who weren’t alerted to the social media onslaught and barely know Mejia, felt blindsided.
The glaring hole in the original narrative about street violence was the absence of Brandon Williams himself, an oversight his shattered family is eager to correct.
“He was a sweet kid,” said his cousin, attorney Stephanie Everett. “Just a good-hearted soul that everybody loved.”
Williams, 32, was born in Boston and grew up in Mattapan and in Jacksonville, Fla. He worked three jobs and was an avid cook and fisherman. He was father to a four year-old daughter, and had returned to Boston when she developed a serious illness and needed medical care.
Williams was coming in from work on Feb. 4 when the shooting occurred, near the intersection of Evans and Capen streets in Dorchester. His family has no idea what happened that night. No one has been arrested in the case, a Boston police spokesman confirmed Sunday.
“I can’t make sense of it at all,” said his girlfriend. “He was not the kind of person who argued with anyone. He walked away from arguments. He was always working and caring for his family.”
One of his jobs was at Dolan Funeral Home; he also worked as a deliveryman for Uber Eats and worked in his family’s food service business. His specialty was “rasta pasta.”
Williams had moved to Florida as a teenager, completing high school there. After that, relatives say, he was often back and forth, a man with a foot in two parts of the country, until he moved back to Boston for good a couple of years ago.
His family is dealing with the grief familiar to many survivors of unsolved homicides. There is the shock of the event itself, coupled with the frustration that accompanies so many unanswered questions.
“This is not a violence issue or a gang issue,” Everett said. “This is a man who was in Boston to provide for his family and care for his family.”
His family — as well as his many friends and co-workers — gathered on Zoom this weekend to say goodbye.
For her part, Mejia took to Facebook Live last week to issue an apology to the Williams family for her initial posts, saying that she had reacted initially as a “mother and as a neighbor.” She didn’t return a call Sunday seeking comment.
“We’re all a work in progress and I appreciate those who called me out,” she said in the video.
The issue, of course, isn’t who announces a homicide. It’s placing victims and survivors front and center, and ensuring that their voices are heard. I’m sure Mejia meant well. There is a time to talk about the scourge of street violence, but there are ways to do that without obliterating the people closest to the pain.
“He’s not a footnote,” Everett said. “He’s an entire story. You could fill a book with all the love to him and from him.”
For now, his family wants people to know that Brandon Williams was not just a victim of crime. He was a man taken too soon, leaving a void that Everett said his family is painfully coming to terms with.
“The absence of his presence is felt throughout the entire family, and will be for some time to come.”
Adrian Walker is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at adrian.walker@globe.com. Follow him @Adrian_Walker.