Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Shocking, it's devastating, it's heartbreaking. It's not something that we
hear of here in Dunfeld neighborhood.
Speaker 2 (00:07):
When I heard it because of the loss, but also
knowing that this is not something that Tony when he
was in his right mind.
Speaker 3 (00:18):
You're scrolling through your phone on a quiet Thursday afternoon
when the breaking news alert makes your stomach drop. Five
dead in Minnesota, two children among the victims. You set
your phone down, but the questions won't stop coming. How
does a father wake up one morning and decide his
own children need to die? What kind of darkness consumes
(00:39):
a man so completely that he believes killing his family
is the only solution.
Speaker 4 (00:44):
We begin with our top story tonight, and police until
Luther Or investigating after five people, including two children, were
found shot dead inside two separate homes. Now investigators are
left piecing together what went wrong.
Speaker 3 (00:57):
Two days earlier, Donald Trump had been declared the win
of the twenty twenty four presidential election. For most Americans,
it meant another four years of political debates and policy changes.
For Anthony Nephew, a forty six year old father of
two in West Duluth, Minnesota, it meant something far more sinister,
(01:17):
something that would transform him from a concerned citizen into
the perpetrator of one of Minnesota's most shocking family annihilations.
But rewind just a few months, and you'd see a
different Anthony nephew. In early twenty twenty four, he was
still showing up to parent teacher conferences for his seven
year old son, Oliver at Rockridge Academy. Oliver was just
(01:39):
a first grader, then, the kind of kid who set
up a gift library in their front yard where neighbors
could take free books and toys. His older half brother, Jacob, fifteen,
was making his family proud as a member of the
UMD Honor Orchestra, his talent with music echoing through the
halls of Marshall School. Anthony's wife, Katherine Ramsland, taught art
(02:02):
at Lake Superior College. Students described her as passionate, creative,
someone who could make even the most reluctant artist believe
in their potential. She'd married Anthony in twenty fourteen, blending
their family with Jacob from Anthony's previous relationship with Aaron Abramson. Aaron,
forty seven, worked as a collection systems, engineering and operations
(02:25):
manager for the City of Superior, Wisconsin, a steady job
that required precision and attention to detail. From the outside,
it looked like the kind of modern, blended family that
actually worked, two loving parents, each bringing children from previous relationships,
creating something new together. But beneath the surface, Anthony was
(02:47):
fighting a war that nobody fully understood. In February twenty
twenty one, police had been called to the Nephew home
during what was described as Anthony's mental breakdown. He'd agreed
to say seek treatment at Essentia Health, and the following
month he did something remarkable. He went public with his struggles.
(03:08):
In a March twenty twenty one opinion column for the
Duluth News Tribune, Anthony wrote openly about his mental health challenges,
hoping to break the stigma that kept so many men
from seeking help. I was hospitalized for mental health reasons,
He'd written. I'm sharing this because too many people suffer
in silence. It was the kind of brave transparency that
(03:29):
mental health advocates had been calling for. A man admitting
vulnerability seeking help using his platform to encourage others. Anthony
Nephew wasn't just another statistic hiding in shame. He was
trying to be part of the solution. But fast forward
to July third, twenty twenty four, and that same man
was holding a knife to his wife, Catherine, making threats
(03:51):
that would chill anyone who heard them. If Trump wins,
I'm going to kill myself and take everyone with me,
He'd told her. According to police reports, Catherine called nine
one one, terrified for her life and the safety of
their children. Anthony was hospitalized again at a Spyros Saint Luke's,
(04:12):
but this time the warning signs were neon bright. This
wasn't just depression or anxiety. This was a man whose
grip on reality was loosening in the most dangerous way possible.
Yet somehow, just two months later, on September ninth, twenty
twenty four, Anthony nephew walked into a gun store and
(04:32):
walked out with a firearm permit. The same day he
applied was the same day it was approved. A man
who had been hospitalized for threatening to kill his family
if Trump won the presidency was now legally armed, just
weeks before an election where Trump was leading in the polls.
How does this happen? How do the systems designed to
(04:53):
protect us fail so spectacularly. Catherine had called police, Anthony
had been hospitalized. There were records reports documented threats of
family violence tied directly to political outcomes, Yet the permits
sailed through without a single red flag being raised. However,
before the unthinkable happened, the Nephew family went about their
(05:16):
lives that fall. Oliver continued first grade, probably excited about
Halloween and Thanksgiving. Jacob practiced with the Honor Orchestra, his
music filling rooms that would soon fall silent forever. Catherine
prepared lesson plans for her art students, unaware that her
husband was spiraling toward a decision that would destroy everything
(05:38):
she'd helped build. Aaron Abramson, Anthony's ex partner, and Jacob's mother,
maintained the kind of co parenting relationship that divorce experts recommend.
She and Anthony shared custody responsibilities, attended school events together,
put their son's needs first. Neither woman Aaron nor Catherine
(05:59):
seemed to rear that in Anthony's deteriorating mind, they weren't
partners anymore. They were obstacles.
Speaker 1 (06:06):
There's no slowing the role of the presidential candidates at
this point.
Speaker 5 (06:09):
Right now, Former President Donald Trump Vice President Kamala.
Speaker 1 (06:12):
Harris out in full force in those battlegrounds states that
will determine the winner.
Speaker 3 (06:16):
Of the election. November fifth, twenty twenty four, arrived like
any other election day. Americans lined up at polling stations,
filled out ballots, participated in the democratic process that Anthony
Nephew had once written passionately about. But as the results
rolled in that evening, confirming what many had predicted, that
Donald Trump would return to the White House, something snapped
(06:39):
in Anthony's mind. The man who had once advocated for
mental health awareness, who had sought treatment, who had built
a blended family filled with music and art and childhood wonder,
began planning the systematic execution of everyone he claimed to love.
What happened in those final forty eight hours between UMP's
(07:00):
victory and the discovery of five bodies across two wes
Duluth homes. How does a father look at his seven
year old son setting up a gift library in the
yard and decide that child needs to die? The answers
lie in a timeline so disturbing, so methodical, that even
seasoned investigators struggled to piece together Anthony Nephew's final descent
(07:24):
into unthinkable violence.
Speaker 5 (07:26):
The community is justin shock. Neighbors describe this blended family
as loving, caring, and they got along now. The father
accused of these shootings built this treehouse behind me and
a little free library in front of the home. Neighbors
telling me he loved his kids and those in the community.
People are just trying to wrap their heads around how
this could have happened.
Speaker 3 (07:46):
Imagine being the superior city employee who first noticed that
Aaron Abramson didn't show up for work on November seventh,
in a small government office where everyone knows everyone. Absence
without notice isn't just on you usual, It's unthinkable. Erin
was the kind of person who called in sick when
she had a mild cold, who never missed deadlines, who
(08:09):
treated her responsibilities like sacred obligations. When her phone went
straight to voicemail and her desk sat empty that Thursday afternoon,
her colleagues knew something was terribly wrong. At two p m.
Duluth police officers knocked on the door of six o
nine Taconi Street in West Duluth. The modest home sat
(08:30):
in a neighborhood where kids still rode bikes without helmets
and neighbors actually knew each other's names. Officer body cameras
would later capture those first few moments, the growing concern
when no one answered, the decision to peer through windows,
the horrible realization that something was very, very wrong inside.
(08:51):
What they found would haunt them for years. Aaron Abramson,
forty seven years old, lay dead from gunshot wounds. Beside
her was Jacob Nephew, just fifteen, the boy who could
make an orchestra weep with his musical talent. Both had
been shot with the same methodical precision that Anthony had
(09:11):
once applied to his construction projects. But this was only
the beginning of the horror. The officers immediately realized they
were dealing with more than a double homicide. Anthony Nephew
was nowhere to be found, and neither were his wife
Catherine and young son Oliver. In cases like this, every
minute matters. A man who had just killed his ex
(09:35):
partner and teenage son was still armed, still mobile, and
potentially hunting his remaining family members. Chief Mike Sinowa would
later describe those first few hours as some of the
most intense in his career. We knew we were racing
against time. He told reporters, we had a clear pattern emerging,
(09:56):
and we had to assume the worst while hoping for
the best. Police immediately began tracking Anthony's movements through his
cell phone data. The digital breadcrumbs painted a chilling picture
of a man moving with purpose through West Duluth, carrying
out a plan he'd been formulating since election night. But
where was he now? And were Catherine and Oliver still alive?
(10:19):
The search led them approximately one mile away to forty
four o one West sixth Street, directly across from Denfeld
High School, the same school Anthony had graduated from in
nineteen ninety six. There's something deeply unsettling about that detail,
a man returning to commit his final acts just steps
from where he'd once walked the halls as a teenager,
(10:41):
full of dreams and possibilities that would never be realized.
Before entering the second home, police deployed a drone to
survey the property. The technology that was supposed to help
them save lives instead confirmed their worst fears. Through windows,
the drone's camera captured glimpses of what Iver appeared to
be multiple bodies inside the residence. When officers finally breached
(11:04):
the door, they discovered Katharine Ramsland, the art professor who
had spent her career teaching students to see beauty in
the world. She lay dead alongside seven year old Oliver,
the little boy whose gift library had brought joy to
the entire neighborhood. And there was Anthony, nephew, himself dead
from what investigators would determine was a self inflicted gunshot
(11:27):
wound five people, two homes one mile of West Duluth,
transformed into a crime scene that would challenge everything investigators
thought they knew about family annihilation cases. Doctor Sarah Chen,
a forensic psychologist who has studied family violence for over
two decades, explains that murder suicides typically follow predictable patterns.
(11:50):
The perpetrator usually targets the family members he feels have
betrayed him first, then moves to those he sees as
extensions of himself. She knows, but the geographic separation in
this case, killing at two different locations suggests a level
of planning that goes beyond a moment of rage. What
(12:10):
makes Anthony's case even more disturbing is the evidence of premeditation.
Remember that gun permit from September ninth. Investigators found that
Anthony had obtained his firearm with surgical precision, waiting exactly
the right amount of time between his application and the election.
He'd counted down the days like a man planning a vacation,
(12:31):
except his destination was mass murder. The weapon and shell
casings recovered from both scenes told a story of methodical execution.
This wasn't a crime of passion or a sudden psychotic break.
Anthony had moved from house to house like a man
checking items off a grocery list, ensuring that everyone on
(12:51):
his target list was eliminated before turning the gun on himself.
The timeline was clear. Trump won the election on November fifth,
Anthony began his killing spree on November seventh. But what
happened in those forty eight hours that transformed political despair
into family slaughter? Had he been planning this since July,
(13:15):
when he first threatened his family over the election results,
or was there some final trigger, a news report, a conversation,
a moment of clarity that pushed him over the edge.
As word of the murders spread through West Duluth, neighbors
emerged from their homes like survivors of a natural disaster.
They'd lived next to these families for years, had seen
(13:37):
Oliver playing in his gift library, had waived to Jacob
as he walked to the school bus with his instrument case.
Now they were being asked to process the impossible that
the man they'd known as a helpful neighbor and devoted
father had systematically executed five people, including two children.
Speaker 2 (13:55):
Cory and I think that's important. I was just so
sad when I heard it because of the loss, but
also knowing that this is not something that Tony, when
he was in his right mind, would ever do.
Speaker 5 (14:12):
People describe this house as the heart of the neighborhood,
now a sad reminder of a tragic loss too close
to home.
Speaker 2 (14:20):
The whole family was so wonderful and we will. I
can't imagine the neighborhood without them.
Speaker 3 (14:29):
The cruel irony wasn't lost on anyone who had known
Anthony's public advocacy for mental health awareness. Here was a
man who had written eloquently about the need to break stigma,
who had sought treatment, who had been hospitalized multiple times
for his condition. Yet despite all the interventions, all the awareness,
all the systems supposedly in place to prevent exactly this
(14:52):
kind of tragedy. Five people were dead, But even as
the community began to grapple with their grief, investigators were
uncovering evidence that would make Anthony Nephew's crimes even more
disturbing than anyone had imagined. Hidden in his digital devices
was a trail of searches, messages, and documents that revealed
(15:13):
the true scope of his planning and raised troubling questions
about how a man with such a documented history of
threatening family violence had been able to arm himself so easily.
Picture yourself as the gun store clerk who processed Anthony
Nephew's permit application on September ninth, twenty twenty four. Your
following standard procedure, running the required background checks through state
(15:37):
and federal databases, clean criminal record check, no outstanding warrants check,
Minnesota resident in good standing check the application sales through
in a matter of hours, and you hand over the
permit with the same routine efficiency you've performed hundreds of
times before. But what the system didn't tell you was
(15:58):
that this man had been hospital just two months earlier
for threatening to kill his entire family. If Donald Trump
won the presidency. What the database couldn't capture was the
nine to one one call from his terrified wife, or
the police report documenting his knife attack, or the psychiatric
evaluation that deemed him a danger to himself and others.
(16:19):
This is where Anthony Nephew's story transforms from a tragedy
into a systemic indictment. Doctor Michael Rodriguez, who studies gaps
in mental health reporting systems, explains the fatal flaw. We
have all these databases that don't talk to each other.
A man can be deemed mentally unfit to own a
firearm by medical professionals, but that determination never makes it
(16:44):
into the background check system. The search warrants executed on
Anthony's digital devices revealed the true extent of his obsession.
His Internet history showed months of research into election predictions,
consuming news about Trump's potential victory with the kind of
intensity usually reserved for cancer patients researching experimental treatments. But
(17:06):
mixed in with political articles were searches that would make
investigator's blood run cold. How long does it take to
die from gunshot wounds? And best places to shoot for
quick death. Even more chilling were the voice memos Anthony
had recorded on his phone in the weeks leading up
to November seven. In one dated October twenty three, he
(17:28):
spoke with the calm deliberation of a man reading a
grocery list. If he wins, I can't let them suffer
through what's coming, it's better this way. They'll understand eventually.
These weren't the ramblings of a man in acute psychotic crisis.
This was calculated planning by someone who believed with absolute
(17:49):
certainty that murdering his family was an act of mercy.
The voice recordings revealed a man who had spent weeks
rehearsing his justifications, refining his rational asation, preparing mentally for
what he saw as an inevitable duty. But perhaps the
most devastating evidence was a draft email found on his laptop,
(18:10):
addressed to Catherine, but never sent. I love you too
much to let you live through what's coming. It read
take care of the kids on the other side. I'll
be right behind you. Detective Sarah Walsh, who led the
digital forensics team, had investigated dozens of murder self harm
cases in her fifteen year career. What made this case
(18:33):
different was the level of premeditation, combined with the perpetrator's
genuine belief that he was protecting his family, She explained.
Most family annihilators are motivated by revenge or control. Anthony
seemed to genuinely believe he was saving them from something
worse than death. This delusion becomes even more disturbing when
(18:55):
you consider Anthony's previous advocacy for mental health awareness. His
March twenty twenty one column in the Duluth News Tribune
wasn't just brave, it was prophetic. The stigma around mental
health prevents people from getting the help they need before
it's too late, he'd written. We need better systems, better communication,
(19:16):
better follow through. He was describing exactly the kind of
systematic failure that would eventually enable his own crimes. Doctor
Jennifer Hayes, who runs the crisis intervention program at Ascentia Health,
knew Anthony's case intimately. She'd been part of the team
that treated him during his February twenty twenty one breakdown
(19:38):
and again during his July twenty twenty four hospitalization. We
recommended long term residential treatment both times, she told investigators,
but the insurance wouldn't cover it, and the state facilities
had six month waiting lists. We gave him medication, set
up out patient appointments, and hoped it would be enough.
(20:00):
The gap between Anthony's discharge from Aspyrous Saint Luke's in
July and his gun permit approval in September represents one
of the most glaring system failures in recent memory. Hospital
records clearly documented his threats of family violence tied to
political outcomes, Yet Minnesota's gun permit process has no mechanism
(20:22):
for accessing psychiatric hospitalization records unless they result in formal
civil commitment proceedings. Anthony was never formally committed. He was hospitalized,
voluntarily treated, stabilised, and released with follow up care instructions.
In the eyes of the law, he remained a citizen
(20:42):
in good standing with full Second Amendment rights. As news
of the system failures spread, the community's grief began mixing
with anger. How many red flags does a person need
to wave before someone stops them? How many times does
someone need to threaten family violence before they lose access
to firearms? Linda Morrison, whose daughter attended Rockridge Academy with Oliver,
(21:07):
became an unlikely advocate for reform that little boy used
to give my daughter books from his gift library, she
told a packed city council meeting. He was seven years old,
seven and our system let his father buy a gun
two months after threatening to kill him. The memorial services
began on November thirteenth with a candlelight vigil that wound
(21:29):
through West Duluth from the Taconi Street home to the
Sixth Street residence. Over two hundred people walked that mile
in silence, carrying photos of the victims and struggling to
make sense of senseless violence. At Lake Superior College, Catherine's
students organized their own celebration of life. They displayed her
(21:50):
artwork alongside pieces created by students she'd inspired over the years.
She taught us that art could heal, said Emma Chen,
a senior in Catherine's Advance Vainst Painting class. She said,
creativity was how we process what we can't understand. I
wish she was here to help us process this.
Speaker 1 (22:08):
You know, walking past the box is just going to
be It's gonna be different. Now, it's gonna feel empty.
Speaker 3 (22:15):
A community still trying to make sense of the senseless,
but making sure those lost won't be forgotten.
Speaker 2 (22:21):
It definitely has left a hole in all of our
hearts and just feel like we've lost a sister.
Speaker 3 (22:26):
The GoFundMe, established for Jacob and Aaron's family, raised over
two thousand dollars in its first forty eight hours, but
the gesture felt hollow against the magnitude of the loss.
How do you crowdfund your way out of systematic failure?
How do you donate enough money to bring back a
fifteen year old orchestra member and his devoted mother. Oliver's
(22:50):
gift library became an impromptu memorial site, with neighbors leaving flowers, toys,
and handwritten notes among the books he'd so generously shared.
Free books, free toys, free hugs, read one sign that
appeared overnight in memory of Oliver's generous heart. But as
touching as these community gestures were, they couldn't mask the
(23:13):
uncomfortable truth emerging from the investigation. Anthony Nephew hadn't slipped
through cracks in the system. He'd driven a truck through
chasms that everyone knew existed, but no one had bothered
to fix. The pattern was painfully clear. Mental health crisis
leads to hospitalization. Hospitalization leads to temporary stabilization. Stabilization leads
(23:37):
to discharge with inadequate follow up. Inadequate follow up leads
to deterioration. Deterioration leads to gun acquisition. Gun acquisition leads
to family annihilation, rinse, and repeat. Doctor Margaret Foster, who
directs the National Center for Violence Prevention, puts it bluntly,
(23:57):
We've created a system that's designed to fail. We wait
for people to hit rock bottom, patch them up just
enough to function, then send them back into the same
circumstances that caused the crisis in the first place. It's
not treatment, its managed decline. The most haunting aspect of
Anthony's case wasn't his mental illness, or his political obsessions,
(24:20):
or even his methodical planning. It was how preventable it
all seemed. In retrospect. Every piece of the puzzle was
visible to someone somewhere in the system. But the people
who knew about his psychiatric hospitalizations couldn't talk to the
people processing his gun permit. The doctors who documented his
(24:40):
threats of family violence couldn't communicate with the police officers
who might have removed his access to weapons. Anthony Nephew
didn't just kill five people on November seventh, twenty twenty four,
he exposed the lethal inadequacy of systems that millions of
Americans depend on for protection. And as investigators continued piecing
(25:02):
together his final days, and even more disturbing picture began
to emerge about just how close this massacre came to
being even worse than anyone had imagined. Cell Phone data
analyzed by investigators showed that Anthony spent the early hours
of November seventh sending a series of text messages that
read like a manifesto to his brother in California. The
(25:26):
country is finished. I can't let them suffer through what's
coming to an old friend from high school, taking care
of my family before it's too late. To his therapist's
voicemail at three seventeen a m. Doctor Martinez, I've made
my decision. Thank you for trying. Doctor Elena Martinez had
(25:46):
been Anthony's therapist since his July hospitalization. When she listened
to that voicemail the next morning, she immediately called police,
but by then Anthony was already at the Takani Street
home methodically executing Aaron and Jacob. I knew exactly what
he meant, she told investigators later. He'd been obsessing about
(26:07):
protecting his family from Trump's presidency for months. I called
nine one one within minutes of hearing that message, but
I was already too late. The timeline investigators reconstructed his
brutally precise. Anthony arrived at Aaron's home around nine a m.
On November seventh, likely under the pretense of picking up
(26:28):
Jacob for some normal parental activity. Security cameras from a
neighbor's house captured his Honda Civic pulling into the driveway,
and cell tower data confirmed his phone remained at that
location for approximately forty seven minutes. What happened during those
forty seven minutes will never be fully known, but the
evidence suggests Erin and Jacob were killed quickly, execution style.
(26:52):
There were no signs of struggle, no defensive wounds, no
indication they had time to process what was happening. Anthony
had planned this with the same methodical precision he'd once
applied to construction projects. From there, he drove the one
mile to his own home, where Catherine and Oliver were
likely getting ready for a normal Thursday. Catherine had morning
(27:15):
classes to teach at Lake Superior College. Oliver had first
grade at Rockridge Academy. Their final moments were probably filled
with the mundane concerns of any family, morning breakfast dishes,
backpack checks, reminders about after school activities. Phone records show
Anthony called Catherine cell at ten twenty three am. The
(27:37):
call lasted forty three seconds. Investigators believe this was when
he told her what he'd done to Aaron and Jacob
and what he was about to do to their family.
A neighbor reported hearing what sounded like shouting from inside
the house around ten thirty am, followed by an abrupt
silence that would stretch into eternity. The final gunshots occurred
(27:59):
at approximately ten forty seven am. Anthony saved himself for last,
just as he'd planned all along. But here's what makes
this case a preventable tragedy rather than an inevitable one.
Every single warning sign was documented, reported, and ignored by
a system designed to protect families like the nephews. Doctor
(28:22):
Sarah Morrison, who studies family violence prevention, breaks it down.
Anthony's case represents a perfect storm of system failures, but
also a roadmap for prevention. He broadcast his intentions clearly
and repeatedly. He sought help multiple times. He was hospitalized
(28:42):
for threatening exactly the violence he eventually committed. The information
was all there, we just didn't have mechanisms to act
on it. The gun permit approval stands as perhaps the
most glaring failure. Minnesota law includes provisions for removing firearms
from people deemed dangerous, but those provisions require someone to
(29:05):
petition the court system, a process that can take weeks
and requires knowledge of legal procedures that most family members
don't possess. Catherine had called police in July when Anthony
threatened the family. She'd provided a detailed statement about his
specific threats tied to Trump winning the election, but no
(29:25):
one explained to her that she could petition for an
extreme risk protection order that would have prevented Anthony from
obtaining firearms. The information existed, but the education and support
systems didn't. Three months after the murders, Minnesota legislators introduced
the Nephew Family Protection Act, which would require automatic firearms
(29:47):
restrictions for anyone hospitalized for threats of family violence, regardless
of whether they are formally committed. The bill would also
mandate cross database communication between mental health facilities and gun
permit agencies. We can't bring back Aaron Jacob Catherine or Oliver,
said state Representative Maria Santos, who sponsored the legislation. But
(30:10):
we can make damn sure that no other family dies
because our systems refuse to talk to each other. The
bill faces significant opposition from gun rights advocates, who argue
it violates due process protections. You can't take away constitutional
rights based on someone's worst day, argue Second Amendment attorney
(30:31):
David Walsh. Mental health crises are temporary, constitutional violations are permanent.
But for the families left behind, these policy debates feel
hollow against the magnitude of their loss. Nicole Abramson, Aaron's sister,
has become an unlikely advocate for reform. My sister called
(30:52):
police when he threatened the family in July. She testified
at legislative hearings. She did everything right. The system failed her,
and now she's dead, along with her son and three
other people who trusted that same system to protect them.
The community healing process has been complicated by the knowledge
that this tragedy was preventable. Support groups for neighbors and
(31:16):
friends struggle with a unique form of survivor's guilt, the
feeling that they should have seen the signs should have
done something, should have somehow prevented the unpreventable. Emma Rodriguez,
Oliver's first grade teacher, still sets up a small gift
library in her classroom every morning. Oliver taught us that
(31:37):
sharing makes the world better, She tells her students, even
when bad things happen, we can still choose to be generous,
like Oliver was. Lake Superior College established the Catherine Ramsland
Memorial Art Therapy Program, providing free counseling services that combine
creative expression with trauma treatment. Believed art could heal anything,
(32:01):
explains program director doctor James Chen, She would want her
legacy to be about helping people process their pain creatively.
Jacob's orchestra friends perform a memorial concert every month, playing
pieces he loved and new compositions written in his honor.
Music was Jacob's language, says his orchestra director Sarah Williams.
(32:25):
This is how we keep him alive through the beauty
he created and inspired. The question isn't whether we can
prevent the next Anthony Nephew. It's whether we're willing to
make the systematic changes necessary to try. Because right now,
somewhere in America, another man is spiraling toward family violence,
while our disconnected systems file separate reports that will never
(32:49):
be read together until it's too late. Do we have
the courage to admit that our current approach to mental
health crisis intervention is fundamentally broken? Or will we continue
offering thoughts and prayers while maintaining the various systems that
enable these tragedies.