After The SHooting
A year in the life of Gwen Woods
Photography of Green Woods by Erica Deeman, story by Jaeah Lee for The California Sunday Magazine.
That Wednesday began the way it was supposed to. Gwen Woods got out of bed an hour before sunrise, showered, and dressed for work. As she was leaving the house, her phone rang. “God morning,” she greeted Mario, her youngest son. “God morning,” he replied.
Every morning since his release from prison 15 months earlier, Mario would call, and they’d talk through their plans for the day. Gwen was about to start her commute from San Francisco to the mental health clinic where she worked as an administrator. Mario was heading to the UPS office to pick up a uniform; the next day would be his first on the job. Gwen reminded him that he had an appointment with his parole officer in the afternoon. “You have a schedule today,” she told him. “Stay on it.”
“Mom, you need anything? You got lunch money?” he asked. Of her three sons, 26-year-old Mario worried about her the most. Gwen liked to say that if her two older sons were ever to put her in a home for the elderly, Mario would be right behind them to rescue her. “I’ll see you tonight,” she said before hanging up. “Love you.”
Gwen, who was 54 years old, made a point to have dinner with her sons almost every night. Sometimes one of them couldn’t attend — that night, it was her oldest, Monroe. The plan was for her to drive back to the city and collect Mario, Michael, her middle son, and a niece. Maybe they would return to the Chinese restaurant with the orange chicken Mario liked, or maybe they’d get takeout and sit by the bay. It didn’t really matter, as long as they were together.
Before leaving work, Gwen checked her phone and noticed a friend’s Facebook post. Did anyone know more about the shooting on Third? he asked. Third Street ran through the Bayview district, a few blocks down from the house she once owned. Monroe still lived nearby. Anytime someone was shot in the Bayview, it was almost guaranteed she knew him or knew someone who did.
“Where’s Mario?” Gwen asked when she arrived at her niece’s home. He normally would have called her two or three times by then, asking when she was going to arrive. Gwen instructed her niece to wait while she went and picked up Michael. As she left, she said, “When you see Mario, tell him to sit down and stay put.” Read the full archived story on The California Sunday Magazine right here.