Alex Pretti – A Life That Does Not Fit the Official Account

Alex Jeffrey Pretti was not an anonymous name in a police report. He was an ICU nurse at a Veterans Affairs hospital, someone who stayed with people in their most vulnerable moments and did not walk away when things became difficult. His family describes him as deeply compassionate, as someone who could not look away when injustice occurred. That is exactly what brought him into the streets when the tone in Minneapolis shifted and the operations of the immigration authorities became increasingly brutal.

Pretti was 37 years old, a U.S. citizen, born in Illinois, with no criminal record and no history with police beyond a few traffic tickets. He worked long shifts, lived quietly, looked out for his neighbors, and had a close bond with his dog, whom he took outdoors whenever he could. He loved bicycles, nature, order in small things. And he was angry about what he was seeing in his city. About people being taken off the streets. About children disappearing. About a level of harshness that had nothing to do with safety.

His father says Alex recognized this as wrong. Not in an abstract sense, but concretely. That is why he went to protests, like many others. Not to escalate, but to be visible. The family had asked him shortly beforehand to be careful. Protest, yes, but do not get involved. Alex understood that, his father says. He knew where his limits were. On Saturday, he was shot and killed by a Border Patrol officer. The official account claims he approached officers with a semiautomatic handgun. Videos from bystanders show something else. They show him holding a phone. They show no drawn weapon, no threat. His family says he did own a firearm and had a valid permit to carry, but they had never seen him carry it on the street. He was not carrying it, they say. And it is not visible in the footage.

We are committed to accuracy and normally exercise the greatest possible restraint when it comes to judgments before all investigations are concluded. But this case shatters even that self-imposed discipline. The factual record is so overwhelming, the contradictions so plainly visible, that silence would no longer be a form of diligence. There is only one word for it.

What followed was silence. His parents did not learn of their son’s death from authorities, but from a journalist. Hospitals provided no information, agencies could not be reached. Only the medical examiner later confirmed that a body matching their son’s name and description had been identified. Hours later, they heard senior government officials refer to Alex as a terrorist. They watched their son being spoken about as if he were an enemy. The family then spoke out themselves. Broken and angry at the same time. They spoke of lies. Of vile claims. Of videos showing that Alex was not armed when he was tackled, but was holding his phone and trying to shield a woman who was being sprayed with pepper spray. They asked for the truth to be told. Nothing more.

lex Pretti grew up in Wisconsin, played sports, was a Boy Scout, sang in a boys’ choir. He studied in Minnesota, first worked in research, then consciously chose nursing. A profession that requires closeness, patience, and responsibility. Neighbors describe him as warm and helpful, someone who stepped in immediately when there was a problem. None of them could imagine him walking the streets armed. His mother says her son loved this country, but hated what was being done to it. Environmental destruction, indifference, brutality. He did not accept that all of this was being sold as normal. Perhaps that is precisely why his death does not only bring grief, but resistance.

Alex Pretti does not fit the story one might quickly want to construct. He was not a perpetrator, not an outsider, not a faceless enemy. He was part of this city. Part of this country. And that is exactly why his death is more than just another incident. It is a rupture that cannot be plastered over with slogans.