Tristan Marcellus Wade was someone’s whole world long before his name ever became associated with the word “death.” He was from St. Louis, Missouri, a place that can feel like a tight-knit neighborhood one moment and an endless city the next—full of familiar corners, familiar faces, and the kind of history that lives in people more than it does in buildings.
At 36, Tristan was a Black man navigating the weight and beauty of life in a city that asks a lot of its people. Even withou
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