'He was the protector': Family of Antonio Johnson still reeling from his death
Long before someone pulled the cover back from her nephew's face, Kimberly Johnson knew it was him.
It was still dark as she rushed to his apartment at Edgehill Homes the morning of Sept. 5 after learning someone was shot and found wrapped in a blanket next to a nearby dumpster. Johnson had to take a break from the scene as the painstaking wait for more information dragged on.
So she walked.
Up 14th Avenue South, across Horton Avenue and onto 12th Avenue South. That's where she finally let out the swell of emotions inside her.
"I just had to scream," she remembered.
Family, neighbors and friends gathered as the sun rose. When the cover was finally pulled back and realization sunk in, several of them started to wail, clinging to one another.
"We was trying to brace each other," Johnson said. "Trying to keep each other strong."
Antonio Dayette Johnson — a beloved son, father, brother, nephew and cousin — was dead. He was 37.
Previous coverage:Man shot, wrapped in blanket and hidden behind dumpster, suspect surrenders
'He was the protector'
Three weeks later, Kimberly Johnson and her family flipped through old family photo albums as they explained the loving, giving and kind man he was. He earned the nickname "Yo Baby" — or "My Baby," according to kids in the family.
"He loved to dance," Sharon Johnson, his mother, said. "We'd say, 'Go Yo Baby! Go Yo Baby!'"
Antonio is the second son she buried because of gun violence. In 2008, another son, Stephen, was gunned down in a car at 21 years old.
As they shared stories, several family members wore matching white T-shirts with purple letters, Antonio's favorite color. His cousin, Keewanna Johnson, said growing up in a large family with lots of cousins made for countless fond memories.
"When we were kids, all our friends wanted to be Johnsons, too," she said. "We were always together, no matter what. Everybody had their own house and their own bed, but we always ended up in one place."
That didn't change when they were adults, she said, evidenced by the stacks of family photos sprawled across the living room table in the apartment Antonio shared with his sister.
"He was the protector. He did not like guns. He did not like fighting," Keewanna Johnson said. "He was the one that would climb up in your tree and get your cat."
Antonio often went out of his way to look after kids in his apartment complex, his family said. If they didn't have shoes, food, even Christmas gifts, he found a way to get them some.
Keewanna Johnson said nobody can believe how her cousin died.
She thought he was the one in the family who would grow old. His family does not believe he knew his killer, who later surrendered to police.
"I don't understand. And then they left him by the dumpster?" she said. "They don't know the person they took from us."
Antonio was a father of seven and adamant about instilling identity and confidence into the kids around him, his family said. He was always laughing and cracking jokes, quick to help people in any way he could.
"He was just happy," Kimberly Johnson said, her voice a whisper as tears sprang into her eyes. She pointed to a photo of Antonio and his grandmother, explaining how the two were especially close.
Lucille Johnson died on Sept. 20, just two weeks after grandson's death. She was 92.
"His murder killed her," Kimberly Johnson said.
Antonio was also close with his 66-year-old neighbor, Vanessa Turner. He'd bring her food, make sure she had what she needed and drive her around. After his death, the Johnson family said Turner sat on her porch looking at the sky, saying, "Yo Baby, just come and see me."
She died on Sept. 16.
"He took the two women that he felt needed him the most," Keewanna Johnson said. "I feel like he knew they wouldn't be able to go on without him.
"He left the gate open for them."
This article originally appeared on Nashville Tennessean: Family of Nashville shooting victim Antonio Johnson shares stories
