On April 13, 2016, Kelly Whetter got a text from her 18-year-old son Gabriel Nikov, saying he’d finally landed a job at a restaurant a stone’s throw away from their Little Italy apartment.

The high school student had spent that Wednesday afternoon handing out resumes after class, Whetter recalled, and had been hoping for a job at Cafe Diplomatico Restaurant & Pizzeria for weeks.

But Nikov would never show up for his first shift.

Four hours after texting his mom, Nikov was lying on the sidewalk just north of Yonge and Bloor Sts., bleeding to death after being shot in the back.

“Not in a million years did I think that would happen,” Whetter told the Star a few days before the first anniversary of her only child’s murder.

“I still don’t believe it happened.”

Nikov’s death was the 24th homicide in Toronto in 2016 — a particularly bloody year for the city — and besides sorrow and disbelief, his murder also brought confusion to his friends and family: Nikov had never strayed too far from College St., so why he was all the way out at Bloor and Yonge was a mystery. The confusion only grew when, a few days later, police arrested Bradley Cheveldayoff, then 22, and charged him with second-degree murder. Chevaldayoff is unknown to Whetter and Nikov’s friends.

Cheveldayoff’s preliminary hearing is scheduled to begin late next month.

In the meantime, with the help of community organizations like Zero Gun Violence Toronto, Whetter has learned to channel her anger and pain into something bigger.

With the help of community organizations like the Zero Gun Violence Movement, Whetter will be holding a vigil at Yonge and Bloor starting at 5 p.m. on April 13, exactly a year to the day Nikov was killed. Along with remembering her son through speeches by friends and family, Whetter is hoping to raise awareness about the impact of gun violence not just on an individual, but the ripple effect that forever changes family, friends and communities.

“I’m still full of sorrow, I cry every day, but that’s why I wanted to get hooked up with something where I could put my anger and sorrow,” Whetter said, sitting at her kitchen table. Mounted to the wall on her left was a large portrait of Nikov one of his friends painted after his death; it’s impossible to look anywhere in the apartment without seeing a picture or painting of him.

Nikov’s room is also almost exactly as he left it when he went to hand out resumes a year ago except now, the roses from his funeral are there, too, along with more collages and paintings of Nikov from his friends. His ashes sit in a wooden box on a small table in the middle of the room.

“He was a very happy, loving, good-hearted boy,” Whetter said. “He had a temper, I mean, I have a temper, but I’m a good person . . . He was the same.”

Nikov was taking anger management classes to get his temper under control, and had trouble at school; fistfights and slacking off — but Whetter didn’t think he was in any serious trouble.

Nate Oberst, 19, is among the friends that will be speaking at the vigil. He’d known Nikov since elementary school and described him as “the most loyal friend I ever had.” Even though they drifted apart after going to different high schools, Oberst would occasionally bump into him along College, and Nikov would drop whatever he was doing and ask Oberst to hang out.

One of the last times they saw each other, Oberst said he told Nikov he’d been doing song remixes.

“He said, ‘I want to be your agent one day.’ He was just the kind of person that would support you no matter what if he liked you and just do whatever he could to (help you) reach your goals . . . He was such a genuine and helpful person,” Oberst said.

Nikov himself had musical ambitions, writing and recording rap whenever he could. Another friend, Gabriel Payne, 18, said Nikov had “crazy amounts of energy,” which he channeled into his lyrics and occasional impromptu performances.

“He’d always be rapping at parties and everyone would gather around him and he’d yell and scream and people would love it,” Payne said, adding that Nikov was “totally crazy funny” and helped set the mood of whatever room he was in.

Payne added that Nikov was like an older brother to him, and since his death, he’s had a recurring dream where Nikov walks up to him on the street to say hello and convinces Payne that he’s still alive.

“I wake up and I’m sort of smiling with the tears,” Payne said.

Loading... Loading... Loading... Loading... Loading... Loading...

“I’ve got a younger brother, he’s 8, and I’d hope to be a big brother to him like Gabe was to me.”

After the vigil, Whetter also has longer-term plans — more vigils and memorials for other victims, and, with Zero Gun Violence, a trip to Ottawa with other mothers to appeal to the federal government to crack down on illegal guns.

She says it’s the least she can do.

“You just learn how to live and just remember that your son wouldn’t want you to curl up and die and be depressed on the couch every day,” she said. “He wouldn’t.”