By JR Robinson, CEO/Co-Founder, JustMyMemphis

On Monday, December 1, 2025, the Michael D. Rose Theater at the University of Memphis became more than just a venue; it became a sanctuary. In Memphis, we often talk about numbers. We see them in the headlines, we hear them in the nightly news reports, and we feel them in the statistics that too often define our city to the outside world. But on this quiet evening, amidst the 15th Annual "Season of Remembrance" Ceremony, the numbers fell away.

What remained were the names.

As I watched the families gather—a congregation of strength forged in fire—it became clear that this was not a political event, nor was it a press conference. It was a holy space for the hundreds in attendance. And standing at the center of it, bridging the gap between the cold hard law and the warm, breaking heart of our community, was District Attorney Steve Mulroy.

More Than An Ornament

The focal point of the evening was a special tree, adorned not with festive lights, but with ornaments representing victims of homicide in Shelby County during the current year. There were 178 of them this year.

"It’s about a third less than last year," DA Mulroy noted, his voice heavy with a dual reality. "But still far too many."

From the perspective of the District Attorney, those 178 ornaments represent the sleepless nights of his office. But listening to him speak, it was evident that to Steve Mulroy the man, they represented something far more sacred: stolen potential. Since its inception in 2011, this event has served as a necessary pause—a moment to acknowledge that while the legal battles continue, the human cost is permanent.

"Each ornament represents a child, a parent," Mulroy said, looking out at the sea of families clutching their own commemorative ornaments to place on wreaths. He spoke of the "cliché" that isn't actually a cliché at all: "The dead are not really dead as long as we remember them."

In a city that sometimes feels like it is at war with itself, seeing our top prosecutor speak not of conviction rates, but of grief, was a necessary balm. He shared his own recent loss—not to violence, but to the sudden, jarring nature of death—to bridge the gap.

A Ministry of Presence

Pepper Baker, the ABC24 anchor who hosted the evening, made an observation that struck me to my core. She spoke of how, in the news cycle, reporters often have to keep a professional distance. But she watched as the DA’s staff—and the DA himself—greeted families by name during the reception before the ceremony.

They weren't shaking hands with "case numbers." They were hugging mothers. They were embracing fathers.

"They become immersed in your life in a way that you just can't even fathom," Baker said of the DA’s office.

This is the side of Memphis leadership the cameras rarely capture. It is the Victim Witness Unit coordinators who help shoulder the unimaginable burden long after the police tape is taken down. It is the prosecutor who knows that justice isn't just a gavel coming down; it’s a process of healing.

The Soldiers of Sacrifice

The evening was punctuated by the soaring, angelic voices of the Soulsville Charter School Choir singing "Your Name," a reminder of the brilliance and talent our young people possess when given the chance to shine. It was a stark contrast to the reason we were gathered, yet a perfect representation of what we are fighting for.

Baker poignantly described the victims of gun violence as "soldiers from ourselves." It was a haunting description. These families are the veterans of a war they didn't ask to fight.

DA Mulroy addressed this battle head-on. He didn't shy away from the anger or the frustration. He reaffirmed a commitment to accountability—"short prosecutions and long sentences" for those who drive this violence. But he also spoke of the other side of the coin: hope.

"This ceremony is a testament to the resilience of Shelby County," Mulroy said. "When we gather to remember those lost to homicide, we reaffirm our promise to the families and to this community: we will work tirelessly for truth, justice, and healing. No family walks this journey alone."

Blessed Are They Who Mourn

As Father John Hourican of St. William Catholic Church took the podium, the atmosphere shifted from reflection to reverence. He spoke of the difficulty of forgiveness, the corrosiveness of bitterness, and the hope for a peace that surpasses understanding.

But the crescendo of the night was the reading of the names.

Preston Cunningham. Elijah Todd. Sandra Lee Ward. Willie Mitchell. Jonathan Tate.

Name after name. 178 souls. As each name was called, a family member moved forward. It was a procession of love.

In that room, Memphis was not a city of crime. We were a city of compassion. We were a city of neighbors holding each other up when the weight of the world felt too heavy.

DA Mulroy closed his remarks with the Beatitudes, a promise that feels radical in today's world: "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice, for they shall have their fill."

For the families in that room, the hunger is real. The thirst is constant. But as they looked at that tree, glowing with the memory of their loved ones, they saw a District Attorney’s office that wasn't just working a job, but walking a path alongside them.

We have a long way to go, Memphis. But nights like this remind us that we do not walk alone. We remember. We grieve. And together, we keep fighting for the light.