How gun violence in Toronto is shattering lives

“It would have been there and it would have been in when I got it,” she said.

For the Parkes and their six grown children, celebrating Christmas this year was impossible. It’s their first year without Delroy – better known as George — Parkes after the 61-year-old was killed this summer in a mass shooting at a high school in Etobicoke.

George is among 43 people lost to gun violence in Toronto so far in 2024. While the death toll is comparable to previous years, the city’s total number of shooting incidents is higher than it has been since 2020 – with 442 reports of shootings or “firearms discharged” since mid-December, according to Toronto police data.

Rising youth crime rates are particularly worrying, observers say, noting that 13 young people have been charged with homicide so far this year – up from just three in 2023.

Gunfire has devastated families and communities in Toronto, but it has reverberated more than that, in one case, half a world away.

Over the summer, a spate of deadly shootings involving young people — both perpetrators and victims — left many on edge. One of them was Ajay Simpson, a 20-year-old man who was shot outside an apartment building while with his child.

Months later, as families like Simpson’s try to make sense of gun violence, they refuse to let their loved ones be forgotten.

Here are some of their stories:

“Everything is still where I left it”

On a warm Sunday evening in early June, Delroy “George” Parkes and a group of men were playing dominoes in the parking lot behind North Albion Collegiate Institute after a football game. Just before 11:00 p.m., gunmen pulled up in a vehicle and fired more than 50 bullets in their direction, killing George and seriously injuring four others. George’s long-time friend ‘Dappa’ – Seymour Gibbs, 46 – died in hospital less than three days later.

A 14-year-old boy has been charged with first-degree murder and seven counts of attempted murder as police continue to search for two suspects. The boy is among 13 youths charged with manslaughter or murder so far this year – up from three youths the previous year.

“Everything has changed,” Heather said. “This boy took our world, blew it up and said, ‘Make them face it.’

Heather, who lives in the GTA, avoids coming to the city because she no longer feels safe. She constantly texts her younger children — ages 19 to 23 — who need to know their exact schedule. Walking through the mall the other day, Heather said she found herself wondering: How many people around here have guns?

“It takes away your whole level of peace,” she said. “Any sense of security outside, gone.”

At home, the most mundane tasks seem daunting without George, she said. “Who takes out the trash? When something breaks, who will fix it? Who’s going to put up the Christmas tree?”

At this time of year, Heather said George will walk around the house in his Santa hat, bake oatmeal or chocolate chip cookies and enforce the “No music but Christmas music after November 1st” rule. .

George loved the holiday as much, if not more, than Heather and their children. It’s a little ironic, she says, because he grew up in a culture where the holiday wasn’t celebrated as much.

Their six children would tease Heather about her love of the holiday, treating it like a fever or a bug she had caught. And George? “He got it wrong,” she giggled. “Worse than us.”

ids were, George kept the family traditions alive. Chief among them: driving around the neighborhood looking for the houses with the best Christmas lights, preferably to the sound of George’s favorite song – “Driving Home for Christmas” by Chris Rea. CL: Cut out for space?

Heather said she hasn’t touched her belongings since the day she died. “Everything is still where I left it.”

He can’t bring himself to step into the garage. “Because the garage is him,” she said. His football gear and stuff – he was a big Arsenal FC fan – are all there.

There are, however, a few things she and the kids were able to pull off before his birthday on Dec. 19 and Christmas Day: his stocking with “Ho! Ho! Ho!” displayed in red letters and a homemade wooden ornament recently made in his memory.

The wooden ornament has his photo and a printed quote that says, “Your wings were ready, but our hearts weren’t.”

“We must stop killing each other”

On a rainy afternoon in mid-December, on what would have been Ajay Simpson’s 21st birthday, friends and family gathered at the site where the young father was fatally shot.

Judith Stewart, a family friend, stood on a picnic table and said a prayer to a crowd of 20 people, all dressed in hoodies made in Simpson’s memory. Afterward, she led them in singing “Happy Birthday.”

“If black lives really matter,” Stewart told a Star reporter, “then do we have to stop killing each other?”

Where is the outrage, she asked — six months after Simpson was allegedly shot a 14-year-old boy.

“I’ve seen so many mothers lose their children to gun violence on the street,” Stewart said.

“We go to the funeral, bury them and move on. It’s not normal. It should never be normal.”

Just before midnight on June 24, Simpson was gathered with friends and his child near a playground outside a North York apartment building when four suspects in an SUV pulled up, got out of the vehicle and fired several shots in their direction. Simpson, the only one hit, died at the hospital.

His mother, Natoya Harriott, said she feels angry thinking about his last moments in life. From what his friends told him, everyone ran when the shots rang out. “He was there alone,” she said.

Harriott, who already cares for her nine-year-old daughter, is now raising Simpson’s eight-month-old with the girl’s mother.

The young man has his eyes and his smile, Harriott said, lifting the cover from the pram to reveal his tiny face, covered by a pink tuque and fuzzy blankets.

“I think she’s going to be a track star,” Harriott said, as opposed to a basketball player like her father.

Raising children was not easy, she admits. There are nights when Simpson’s nine-year-old sister wakes up calling for him. Looking at her child, Harriott finds it hard to imagine her growing up without her father.

“It’s tough,” she said, adding that her sense of security had been shattered.

“I don’t go out as much. I don’t do my hair. I’m not doing anything.”

He sighs as he thinks of Christmas fast approaching. Every year, Simpson bought gifts for his little sister, from dolls to slime and drawing markers.

“He spoiled her,” Harriott said.

“That’s why I know he would have been a good father.”

“A lot of discomfort”

Dickson Boakye always understood that at some point in his life he would have to bury his father. The 18-year-old never thought that day would come so soon – and because of a gun.

On a winter afternoon in February, three months after moving to Canada, Adu Boakye, 40, was fatally shot in a bus shelter in North York while on his way to send money to his wife and four children back home in Ghana. He was hit by three bullets and died in hospital.

The day before, a 16-year-old boy was shot in the same area while waiting for a bus on his way to a volleyball game. The teenager suffered life-changing injuries.

That Adu’s life ended with a gun “brought a lot of discomfort to our family,” Dickson said in an interview.

“Saying goodbye wasn’t easy at all,” said Dickson, the eldest of four boys, aged two, seven and 12.

Boadi, Adu’s wife, said that if he were still here, he would play football with the children, help them with their homework and cook them delicious meals. (Fufu with chicken soup was their favorite.)

They would also prepare gifts for the holidays.

“Now waiting for Christmas makes me sad and miss my husband a lot,” Boadi said in an exchange of messages that was translated into English.

For Dickson, he shifted his focus entirely to family.

“I have to work hard to help my mother take care of the children,” he said.

With files from Jason Miller