Today, I visited the memorials for Renee Good and Alex Pretti.
After hours of tossing and turning tonight, I finally forced myself out of bed at 1:00 AM and made my way to the computer to release the emotions that had been building all day.
And what a beautiful day it had been. Bright sunshine. Nearly 50 degrees here in Minnesota in mid-February.
Earlier, I had asked my daughter to take me to the Renee Good and Alex Pretti memorials so I could see, feel, and experience these devastating yet powerful sites for myself.
As an empath and energy practitioner of nearly two decades, I was surprised by how strongly my body reacted at our first stop—Alex’s memorial. The street was still partially blocked to allow people to gather. The sidewalk was filled with flowers, notes, candles, art, prayer flags, and an entire wall of Post-it notes covered in handwritten messages.
We parked across the street, and as I stepped into the crosswalk, a tidal wave of emotion hit me. It was sudden and powerful, like being caught in a tsunami. I was stunned by the force of it.
I had visited the George Floyd memorial years ago and was overwhelmed there as well—but today the energy felt different. George’s site held frustration, anger, and shock, with a deep undertone of purpose.
Alex’s memorial carried an intensity that nearly brought me to my knees. Perhaps Minneapolis has simply endured so much in recent years, now heightened by the ICE presence. Or perhaps I was closer to the timeline of this tragedy. Regardless, the energy was palpable. The tears came quickly. And yet beneath the grief, there was reverence. There was peace.
The exact spot where he tried to assist the woman being detained was marked by a medical coat similar to the one he wore at the VA, along with his final words to her:
“Are you OK?”
That hit hard—knowing his last thought was about helping another human while he himself was being violently attacked.
The grief that moved through me was deeper than I expected. As someone skilled at maintaining energetic boundaries, I was surprised by how heavy it felt.
I shifted into healer mode as I walked the site quietly, asking what I could offer in a moment like this. When I tuned in more closely, the field felt layered—pain, sadness, and shock interwoven with prayer, hope, and love. The energy was spinning, like a spiral or vortex, blending and weaving together. Almost like the energy didn’t quite know what to do with itself.
I felt guided first to ground the energy, anchoring it into the earth—something I had done years ago at the George Floyd site. But this time, I was also shown to lift that anchored energy upward, forming a vertical column, almost like opening a portal to the heavens. It felt as though the density of grief needed movement—a channel upward toward the cosmos, toward the Akash, toward God-Source.
I held the intention that anyone aligned with love visiting this site could open their crown chakra, release grief upward, and draw love back down into the site—using their own human body as an anchor of witness in the face of both tragedy and beauty.
It was powerful. And unexpectedly beautiful.
Then we made our way to Renee Good’s memorial.
The energy there felt completely different.
Perhaps it was the timing—her murder took place two weeks prior to Alex’s—but this site felt more grounded. There was an energetic surrender present. Not a surrender of acceptance or condoning. Not a surrender that this was okay. But a surrender that said:
We are here.
We will unify.
We will do the work.
We will not forget.
It felt like a peaceful surrender of commitment. Steady. Rooted.
Unlike the spinning intensity at Alex’s site, Renee’s memorial felt more anchored and horizontal—flowing through the street and into the surrounding neighborhood rather than spiraling upward. It felt contained, yet expansive in a different way.
Her memorial, too, was adorned with flowers, candles, artwork, and handwritten signs. One artist had displayed a wall of portraits—the faces of other young men, and now women, who had been murdered without justice in Minnesota over the past several years.
It was striking. And once again, emotionally and mentally heartbreaking.
A quiet testimony to how little accountability has been realized for so many.
Renee’s site included numerous poems honoring the fact that she herself was a poet. It was impossible to miss the irony of her last name—Good—as sign after sign read, “Justice for Good.”
Her final words were also displayed:
“That’s fine, dude. I’m not mad at you.”
Tragic. Touching. Shattering. Profound. And deeply human.
Today, I felt deeply proud to be a Minnesotan.
At both sites, the public showed up to hold the line for justice. There were children. Elders. People of every race and background. It was a powerful display of what unity can look like when people refuse to look away—when they gather as community, as witnesses, as empathic humans.
To be engaged in that collective presence today felt meaningful—not only for this city and state, but for anyone, anywhere, who stands against injustice and discrimination.
The news today reports that ICE efforts may be pulling back. I hope that does not mean we pull back too. I hope this does not become something shelved, buried beneath the next distraction or twisted headline designed to redirect attention and memory.
As one of the posters read:
This didn’t have to happen.
End ICE. Accountability Now.
May we remember.
May we stay present.
May we hold the line.
💛 Cosmic Hugs
Secrets of a Starseed
New book by Suzanne Worthley
Part memoir, part field report, and part initiation, Secrets of a Starseed guides readers through the hidden layers of awakening—which may awaken something unexpected in the process.
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