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'He's irreplaceable': Breonna Taylor protest leader, 21, killed in shooting

Hayes Gardner Bailey Loosemore
Louisville Courier Journal

LOUISVILLE, Ky. — Hamza "Travis" Nagdy was optimistic as he stood before a group of protesters at the First Unitarian Church in Old Louisville.

It was late September, and a judge had just announced the three Louisville police officers involved in the fatal shooting of Breonna Taylor would not face charges in her death.

Hope, for many gathered, felt out of reach. But Nagdy clung to it. And as he looked into the crowd, he began to speak.

"I told them two months before the movement, I was the closest I had ever been to committing suicide," the 21-year-old recounted to The Courier Journal in October. "And I could've just not been here, straight up, I could've just not been here.

"I came out to protest, just observing, watching, using a megaphone whenever I could. ... There was just so much beautiful interaction that happened that it made me realize that what was going on out here was building something different, and it gave me a reason to live."

On Monday, Nagdy's life was cut short. He was shot and killed shortly before 12:30 a.m. in the 2100 block of Crittenden Drive, becoming the latest victim in a record year of gun violence in Louisville that has disproportionately affected young Black men.

Travis Nagdy leads a chant among protesters on Sept. 24, 2020, the day after Kentucky Attorney General Daniel Cameron announced the grand jury's decision in the Breonna Taylor case.

Related:Breonna Taylor protesters honor leader killed in shooting

His death is a devastating loss for protesters who have spent the last six months demanding justice for Taylor, an unarmed Black woman who was fatally shot at her apartment during a botched narcotics investigation March 13.

By Monday evening, few details about Nagdy's death had been released. But Louisville Metro Police spokesman Matt Sanders said the victim of the Crittenden shooting was transported to University of Louisville Hospital, where he later died as a result of his injuries.

LMPD's Homicide Unit is investigating, and no suspects have been identified.

Nagdy's death marks 145 criminal homicides the department has responded to this year, shattering the city's record of 117 homicides in 2016. There have also been 541 nonfatal shootings as of Sunday.

The shooting is separate from an incident Sunday night in the Portland neighborhood, where an LMPD officer fatally shot Brian Allen Thurman, 49, during a traffic stop.

In interviews Monday, friends remembered Nagdy as an inspirational and energetic presence who was committed to changing racist systems.

And while hope again feels distant, some are clinging to it now in Nagdy's name.

"I hope he will be a symbol of this violence and that we'll finally say, 'This stops with Travis,'" said Antonio T-Made Taylor, an independent reporter who mentored Nagdy.

"We're going to finally put some attention on this thing, and we're going to wrap a movement around it, and we are going to be serious about what's going on in our city."

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In separate Facebook posts, Nagdy's mother and stepmother both confirmed he had been killed. And his sister, Sarah Nagdy, launched a GoFundMe for Nagdy's funeral expenses, which had raised more than $20,000 by Monday evening.

A march Monday afternoon drew dozens to the spot where Nagdy was killed, a residential street in Louisville's St. Joseph neighborhood.

At a makeshift memorial, they knelt in support of Nagdy's mother, Christina Muimneach, while one protester sang:

"Trouble in my way, I have to cry sometimes/

I lay awake at night, but that's all right/

I know Jesus will fix it after a while."

Born and raised in Louisville, Nagdy moved to Breckenridge County with his mother when he was 14. He had a troubled upbringing — “I was a screwed up little kid,” he told The Courier Journal — and spent his youth in both foster care and in jail on charges of theft.

He'd been out of jail for more than two years when he began to take on a leadership role in Louisville's racial justice movement, a position that made him proud. One Tuesday in October, he boasted, he got to have lunch with state Rep. Attica Scott before leading a march that evening.

“I’m an ex-foster kid, I’m a felon and I don’t have my GED," he said. "I spent three years or four years, not consecutively, incarcerated. And next week I’m flying to New York with Until Freedom. I’m having lunch with a state representative. I got people asking me to lead marches.”

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Nagdy's big hair and bullhorn were trademarks of marches, and he earned the nickname "Chants the Rapper" for continuing to yell chants, even as his voice grew raspy.

One of his favorite lines: "Today is not my day to die."

Friends and family repeated that line as they marched in Nagdy's honor Monday afternoon. On Eastern Parkway, the group paused as Muimneach watched a video of her son leading the chant.

"I just can't believe this has happened," Muimneach said, fighting back tears. "Thank you for doing this in his honor, and I know he has to be watching and smiling."

"Thank you for Travis," someone in the crowd replied.

Chaunda Lee, a staple of the protests, spent Monday morning at Jefferson Square Park, which has long been the hub of the movement. Through tears, she shared memories of Nagdy.

“I remember that every time I saw Travis — everybody knows he had all of his hair — every time he laid eyes on me, he would just take off running, with his arms out to the sky, and he’d just wrap his arms around me all of the time and hug me so tight every day,” she said by phone.

He was energetic and optimistic, and he’d run from the middle of a march to the front, leading chants the whole way. He'd said he felt more connected to the community over the past several months than he ever had in his life, and he was planning to start an organization that was spurred by the protests.

“This is a huge loss,” Lee said. “He had plans, he had goals, he had hard times, and he worked through those; he was strong.”

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At 6 p.m. Monday, at least 200 people gathered at Jefferson Square Park for a vigil, including several out-of-state visitors who traveled to Louisville to honor Nagdy.

Many in the crowd held lit candles as they again called out Nagdy's favorite chants.

"Long live Travis," someone yelled, then others repeated in response.

Protester Kris Smith called Nagdy a "kind-hearted kid" and said the two often discussed the idea of silence.

"We said silence encourages the tormentors, never the tormented, so when people are silent, it basically encourages other people to keep doing what they’re doing, because they don’t see nothing wrong with it," Smith said.

"He wasn't going to be silent."

Taylor, Nagdy's mentor, recalled the joy of watching Nagdy lead a march to the polls for the 2020 presidential election and cast his ballot for the first time.

"He's irreplaceable," Taylor said. "Travis really believed he could help change systemic racism. He believed he could be a big part of that change.

"If you ever needed to see hope in a young man, you could look at Travis and see it. ... He was inspiring, he was insightful, he was encouraging. He was so willing to learn. He was just a beacon of hope. Him and his megaphone."

Reporter Lucas Aulbach contributed to this story. Bailey Loosemore: bloosemore@courier-journal.com; 502-582-4646; Twitter: @bloosemore. Hayes Gardner: hgardner@gannett.com; Twitter: @HayesGardner.