This year’s 30 homicides in St. Paul — the most in 25 years — sent a tremor through families, churches, neighborhoods, schools and communities.

At gatherings last month, crowds spilled out the doors of high school gyms and community centers as people expressed their opinions and ideas and told their stories.

The meetings joined together mothers, children, doctors, police officers, basketball coaches and others who are all trying to get to the bottom of the problem. Mayor Melvin Carter took ideas to the St. Paul City Council, which approved more funding for public safety efforts next year.

The people killed in 2019, mostly in shootings, were more than just a number on a growing bloody tally. These are some of the stories of those left behind and how their lives are forever changed.

THE MOTHER

For Hope Green, losing her son to violence just steps from the safety of her Carroll Avenue home means having her guard up in public — especially because the case is unsolved. “I look at everyone different,” Green said.

Read her story here.

THE PASTOR

The Rev. Dwight Buckner Sr.’s congregation at Gospel Temple in the historic Rondo neighborhood has gone through two gun-violence-related homicides in 2019. “We have to invest more into our young people and give them a sense of hope,” Buckner said.

Read his story here.

THE COACH

The winless Henry Sibley football leaders had gathered to talk about changing their fortunes next year when coach Tom Orth’s staff got the call: A senior captain was accidentally shot and killed in St. Paul. “Kids think they’re invincible. Something like this happens and they realize they’re not,” Orth said.

Read his story here.

THE COUNSELOR

For 13 years, Amy Robinson has been counseling students at Maxfield Elementary. Several families are suffering because of the uptick in violence, she said. On her desk sits a model of a red schoolhouse. On the roof are the words: “Happiness is not the absence of conflict, but the ability to cope with it.”

Read her story here.

THE ADVOCATE

Aasia Ross mentored a teenager for five months during his time in the Dakota County Juvenile Detention Center. She knew there is a way out from the type of life that lands you in a place like that — because she survived it herself. The young man, though, was killed on Rice Street in September, soon after he turned 18. “Having (him) die is unreal,” Ross said.

Read her story here.