Merkel family, Annunciation community honor first birthday without Fletcher
Go Deeper.
Create an account or log in to save stories.
Like this?
Thanks for liking this story! We have added it to a list of your favorite stories.
For the first time, Jesse and Mollie Merkel celebrated their son’s birthday without him.
Fletcher Merkel — killed during the Aug. 27 mass shooting at Annunciation Catholic Church and School — would have turned nine on Jan. 7.
For the Merkels, the day was difficult, yet joyful at times. It was also weighed by other tragedies.
On Jan. 7, a U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agent killed 37-year-old Renee Macklin Good. Armed U.S. Border Patrol officers later tackled people and released chemical weapons during dismissal at Roosevelt High School, according to officials, just miles from the Merkel’s south Minneapolis neighborhood.
Turn Up Your Support
MPR News helps you turn down the noise and build shared understanding. Turn up your support for this public resource and keep trusted journalism accessible to all.
“It just like makes me question the world we're living in,” said Mollie Merkel. “It's hard to have his birthday end with more hatred and violence.”
Mollie and her husband Jesse Merkel welcomed MPR News into their home the day after the ICE shooting.
The house was full of life. Fletcher’s older brother, Milo, bounced up and down stairs with a friend. Neighbor kids knocked to see if his 7-year-old sister, Hazel, could come out to play. The family dogs, Clementine Frankenstein and Xander, scratched at the door.
Everyone was home because Annunciation canceled classes in tandem with Minneapolis Public Schools, which closed for the week following the incident at Roosevelt High School due to safety concerns.
The Merkels reined in frustration about “adults in charge” and how they felt having to explain to their children why they couldn’t go to school that Thursday. Most of them were present during the mass shooting, and Jesse said the kids still grapple with feeling safe — and ask questions their parents doesn’t have answers to.
“Initially, there was a lot of problems with whenever they heard like an ambulance or a police car siren, they would ask: ‘What happened? Where are they going?’ And it's like, well, I don't know,” he said.
“It's hard to know how well they're actually doing, because those are very adult topics that we're talking to a 10- and a 7-year-old about,” he added.
Each day offers unexpected reminders of violence for the Merkel family. Coaching basketball, Mollie freezes when she hears the word “shooter.” Jesse is uncomfortable with standard officespeak like “bullet points” or “let’s pull the trigger on this.”
Their daughter wanted to drop to the ground when fireworks went off celebrating a Vikings win. Their eldest won’t sit by windows in his classroom at Annunciation.
“It's very raw still for a lot of those kids in that building, and ours included,” said Mollie.
She described the past few months as unfair and the most painful of her life.
Fletcher lived so fully, his absence cannot be missed. In his room is a stack of projects he was working on right before his death. A giant Star Wars Legos set. A zine on self-identity. A small money plant he imagined growing tall enough to touch the ceiling of his future college dorm.
He helped his mom propagate plants and walked the dogs daily with his father. He wrote all the lyrics for his punk rock band Alien Blood, comprised of four boys from his class, and played every sport he could. He loved animals and brought home a tree frog that disappeared sometime in July; the family is still on the lookout for it.
“I think about him every day, all the time,” said Jesse. “There's signs of him everywhere. And sometimes those bring me great joy and sometimes they are really hard to see.”
Honoring the week with Fletcher’s favorite things
In Fletcher’s third grade class, students present about themselves on their birthdays, sharing who they are and what they like. Jesse and Mollie brought treats and presented in his stead that Wednesday morning.
Annunciation students replaced their uniforms with sports apparel for the day, to honor Fletcher’s passion for sports. Some of Fletcher’s friends wore shirts from his closet. They shared stories about Fletcher, including some his parents hadn’t heard before.
In the evening, Fletcher’s family had dinner at one of his favorite restaurants, Leeann Chin, and held a bonfire with other relatives, where they enjoyed some of Fletcher’s other treasured delicacies: steamed clams, strong cheese and tinned sardines.
Mollie said it was a joyful day and the Annunciation visit was therapeutic. But at the end of the day, she needed time alone by the fire.
“Sometimes I just, like, get really angry burning stuff, and I just had to stay out there by myself, after all the kids were in bed, and just let myself be really angry that I don't get to have him on his birthday,” she said.
The Merkels want Fletcher remembered for who he was, not how he died. To that end, they planned larger gatherings that capture his personality and help it live on.
The following Saturday, they held a party called “Fletcher Fest” at Annunciation Catholic School for several hundred children and educators in their community. This involved a reptile show, dodgeball, a balloon artist, puppies and a pizza truck.
The parents also hosted a separate fundraiser for a nonprofit in Fletcher’s name that will provide scholarships to Annunciation. Part of that included an opportunity to get tattoos.
Fletcher means “arrow maker,” according to Mollie. She had a simple arrow tattooed on her hand over a year ago. Jesse got the same one in the weeks after Fletcher’s death.
Around 50 adults signed up to join them through Peregrine Tattoo, which donated 25 percent of proceeds to the Fletcher Merkel Memorial Endowment Fund.
“I put the tattoo over my heart because he's always on my heart, and it's just a reminder when you look in the mirror every day to take this day and make the most of it and live in a way that would make him proud,” Jesse said.
“I think he would think it was really badass,” Mollie said.
Continuing forward
The Merkels hold onto their connections with Fletcher. Talking to him, spending time in his room, wishing him well every morning and night.
They hope that no other family experiences a loss like theirs but question that possibility amid recent ICE actions and given the school shootings that followed Aug. 27.
“I understand that there are a wide variety of valid opinions on gun rights and what you should be allowed to do,” said Jesse. “I don't understand why there can't be adults that can work together, that are leading our country instead of pointing fingers and, you know, spreading divisiveness.”
Jesse said he grew up around firearms in rural Wisconsin and hadn’t prioritized gun violence prevention before the shooting at Annunciation. He had viewed gun violence as something that happened among criminals, not places like his south Minneapolis neighborhood.
Though the Merkels have removed all guns from their home now, including Nerf and squirt toys, Jesse said he knows that’s not a practical societal solution. He just wants to see leaders have conversations about the issue.
“What is frustrating to me is it’s just kind of acknowledged by politicians that this is a really difficult topic, and there's very little optimism from either side that anything meaningful is going to get done anytime soon. And my question is, you know, why are we afraid to even talk about it?” he said.
With each instance of gun violence, Jesse said there is momentum building towards common sense changes and he’s optimistic about a farther future.
Dozens of Annunciation parents formed a coalition to advocate for change following the mass shooting that rocked their community. While the Merkels stay updated on the coalition’s progress, they’re more focused on supporting their children and themselves at this time.
They speak to incredible support from the people around them and the way Annunciation’s community has rallied together after tragedy.
Jesse said since the shooting, he’s come to realize there are more good people around than bad.
“Often it is the loudest and meanest, most extreme views that get broadcast out into the world. But our community is full of amazing people that do amazing things, and that are very caring,” he said. “We have the power to do good. And Fletcher would want to do good.”
