Shooting victim remembered

CLOVIS - On Nov. 29, in a small bedroom of a Clovis apartment complex, Tchicaya Williams' life suddenly ended. On Saturday in that same room, she was celebrated as a mother, daughter, cousin, niece and friend like no other.

A crowd that swelled to 40-plus at times gathered in and out of the apartment of Franzes Williams, the mother of Tchicaya, with sadness and helplessness.

But the overwhelming feeling was happiness to be with each other and remember the 38-plus years "Caya" blessed them with her mix of love and often inappropriate humor.

"Cowards took her body, took her from six kids and everybody who loved her," Franzes said, "but (also) brought us all together to celebrate her life."

Although police have identified a person of interest in the case, no arrests had been made as of Tuesday. Family members said three gunshots came from outside the house. Two of those shots hit Caya. It's their understanding the shots were intended for someone in another house.

The gunshots, Franzes said, were so loud they shook the patio window on the other side of the apartment. When she ran into the bedroom, she found her daughter on the ground. One shot hit a wrist, another her heart.

"I held her face; I said, 'Look at me,'" Franzes said. "She gave me two breaths."

During the investigation, police asked family members if they knew anything about a recent party at a nearby apartment complex. No idea, they said; they were "homebodies," and usually only spent time with friends and relatives.

The Saturday gathering was a mix of stories, all of them funny and many of them for mature audiences. They shook their heads at how "Caya" barely broke 100 pounds but ate twice as much as anybody else at every meal, and smiled at all of the things she would do to brighten up a day.

They shared those memories with Church of the Brethren Pastor Dan Murrell in that bedroom, sitting between a green screen and Murrell's video camera.

Franzes said she sometimes told her daughter that Facebook posts were inappropriate. Caya's reaction was, "Mama, get off my page." Caya also made sure Franzes took her medication and kept up doctor's appointments. She frequently said, "I love you, Mama," in texts, phone calls and face-to-face.

Alfredo Williams, her little brother in age but much bigger brother in size, smiled as he remembered the large events like barbecues with 200 people and the small events, and how his sister would make every day fun and how the weeks between their birthdays became a daily celebration.

"She would always text me," said Alfredo, nicknamed "Chicken" by family. "'What's up, fool? What are we going to do today, fool?'"

Every day this past week he said he's expected that text, and a piece of him is missing when it doesn't arrive.

"She didn't deserve this," he said.

The celebration was marked by a release of balloons, mostly by the children hanging around, and statements of love and seeing Tchicaya again.

"When they took her," Franzes said, "they took half of me. I want that half back, and I'm trying not to hate."