Leon Dickerson was a 46-year-old Black man from Detroit, Michigan, and the fact of his death sits like a weight that doesn’t lift just because the details are scarce. A life can be reduced to a name on a screen far too easily, but behind that name was a whole world of ordinary moments that mattered: mornings that began the same way, familiar routes through the city, conversations that ended with “be safe,” and the small routines that quietly prove someone is here.
When someone dies
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