Moises Gonzalez | Provided photo
By LOU FOGLIA
Homicide Watch Chicago
Moises Antonio Gonzalez was busy preparing for the holiday season just days before he was killed, family members recall.
Each year before December’s arrival, he would set up a holiday train beneath the family’s Christmas tree in their Little Village apartment.
The train was given to him by his mother, Irma Jimenez, during the family’s first Christmas in Chicago in 1996. It was the year Gonzalez, his mother and two younger siblings fled from their father, who abused them, according to family members.
But when the train was destroyed in a basement flood a few years ago, the holiday tradition stopped. That was until last month—when Gonzalez’s sister, Yahtzeni Gonzalez, 23, surprised her older brother with a brand new train set.
“He was so excited to see the train,” Yahtzeni Gonzalez said. “So excited that it was there and it looked just like the one my mom got him when we first came [to Chicago].”
Her brother died a few days later on Nov. 23—the eve of Thanksgiving Day.
The 25-year-old was standing in the street at 2:14 a.m in 4100 block of West 47th Street with another man when a third man fired shots at them from a gangway, according to Chicago Police.
Gonzalez was shot in the chest and was taken to Mount Sinai Hospital, where he was pronounced dead at at 2:53 a.m., according to the Cook County medical examiner’s office.
“My brother was not just a number,” Yahtzeni Gonzalez said, frustrated by her brother’s death and the recurring cases of gun violence in Chicago. “He had visions and goals. He knew what he wanted in life.”
Those goals included protecting his family—which she said her brother set out to do from a young age. Moises Gonzalez read Batman comics when his father became violent. The then-6-year-old read to get away from his father, but also to find ways he could protect his mother and siblings.
“He would look at Batman as a hero,” Yahtzeni Gonzalez, said. “Because although both of his parents were gone, he managed to want to save the world. He managed to want to save Gotham.”
Moises Gonzalez, left, with his sister, Yahtzeni Gonzalez, (top center) mother Irma Jimenez and brother Luis Gonzalez. | Provided photo
So Moises Gonzalez began calling himself “Batman,” and set out to save his family.
When his family moved to Chicago, he began working at a warehouse with his mother. The middle schooler lifted boxes and took out trash, but didn’t earn much money.
With each paycheck, he took his siblings to a corner store near 25th and Hamlin in Little Village. He’d buy them each a bag of chips, a can of Coke and candy if they wanted it.
As her brother grew older, Yahtzeni Gonzalez said her brother would bring her to and from high school. He defended her from bullies, and mentored her as best he could—all while he attended Lawndale Little Village High. There, Gonzalez graduated at the top of his class, his sister said.
When his mother lost her job in 2013, Moises Gonzales stepped in. He put his plans for college on hold, and began working as a mechanic at Jiffy Lube full-time. Earlier this year, he was promoted to assistant manager.
“Since we were young my brother was always very over-protective, Yahtzeni Gonzalez said. “He always wanted us to be safe. He always wanted to make sure we had everything we needed.”
Moises Gonzalez also worked so his sister could earn her bachelors degree. She said she will graduate from Northeastern Illinois University in the spring with a psychology degree, and the siblings had planned to trade places in the fall—she would work and Moises would attend school. She said he had plans to become an astronomer.
Among his numerous responsibilities, Moises Gonzalez was an aspiring professional wrestler. He wrestled throughout high school and continued fighting in tournaments regularly after graduation.
Yahtzeni Gonzalez said her brother would come home bruised, sometimes with fractured bones, but was never discouraged. His favorite wrestler was “The Undertaker.”
“All he kept saying was, ‘This is my life and this is what I love to do,’” Yahtzeni Gonzalez said. “I don’t know what he was doing on in his head, but he loved it [wrestling].”
She recalled waking up in the middle of the night Nov. 23 to the sound of her mother on the phone. She said she had a “gut feeling” that something was wrong with her brother—and she was right.
Yahtzeni Gonzalez and her mother were told to quickly drive to Mount Sinai Hospital. They had no idea what had happened to her brother, or what his condition was. At the hospital they met with a team of doctors in a small waiting room.
“It seemed like in the movies when someone gives you the bad news,” she said.
Doctors told them a bullet had pierced her brother's torso and damaged his lungs. They were unable to save him.
“At the moment I didn’t know what to do,” she said. “I didn’t know what that meant. I didn’t know what was going on.”
She was allowed to see her brother, but she couldn’t touch him. He was part of a police investigation at the time.
“It was hard to look at my brother in the bed—knowing that he wasn’t there anymore,” she said. “What hurt the most was that nobody closed my brother’s eyes.”
Hours later, on Thanksgiving morning, Yahtzeni Gonzalez said it felt like “just another day.” Her mother and younger brother were still in shock as friends and relatives visited and gave their condolences.
Moises Gonzalez with his sister Yahtzeni Gonzalez, on her 21st birthday. | Provided photo
“For me, there really was no way to say thanks,” Yahtzeni Gonzalez said. “There was no Thanksgiving. How do you give thanks when your brother was murdered and you don't know anything? The only thing that I was able to give thanks for was that I did have a brother like him and he left a huge legacy behind.”
The family plans celebrate the holidays as best they can. She said her family wants closure, but little progress in the investigation of her brother's killing has been made. She said they’ve reached out to detectives, but haven’t heard back.
The family is also struggling to pay for Moises' tombstone, and the two vehicles he owned. They raised more than $7,000 through a GoFundMe page, but that only covered most of his funeral expenses.
“It doesn't even feel like the holidays,” Yahtzeni Gonzalez said.
Still, she said her brother’s death has brought the family closer together this year—something he would have wanted.
“This Christmas all my aunts and uncles are coming together...we’re all going to be there,” Yahtzeni Gonzalez said. “That’s what he wanted to see.”