To many in the community, Ahmonta Harris was like a firework — brilliant and powerful, with a beautiful soul.

Harris, the face of the Columbia Firework Wars and which he touted as a way to settle differences without bullets, died Saturday from gunshot wounds. News of his passing has caused sadness and disbelief for many who knew him as an activist with a disposition toward building bridges in the community.

Shauntel Franklin was one of the people closest to Harris. They had been together 11 years and had a 3-year-old son, Ahmonta Harris Jr. On Tuesday, Franklin shared with the Tribune some insight into Harris' short but full life, and the aftermath following his death.

“It’s unexpected,” Franklin said. “I’m hurt. I'm sad. I’m angry, but in a sense he almost prepared me for this. He talked about what would happen if he died, how he wanted to set his family up. He said recently if he died, he felt his death would be a mystery. He just wanted to live life, make music, buy his mama a house.”

So far the circumstances surrounding Harris' death are a mystery. The Boone County Sheriff’s Department, which is investigating the case, has so far refused to provide any information regarding Harris’s death, other than a short press release stating that deputies responded to reports of gunfire at 11:17 p.m. Saturday and found Harris with gunshot wounds in the 5700 block of Limoges Drive. Department spokesman Det. Tom O’Sullivan said investigators are “tying up some loose ends” before releasing any details.

Harris would often try to settle disputes among residents or kids in the neighborhood and jokingly referred to himself on occasion as “mayor of the hood” or the “hood councilman." He would air up tires on the kids’ bicycles, help residents with repairs, and often just lend an ear to people’s problems.

“There have been times when a group of kids out here in the neighborhood were fighting and he would come out there and get them together real quick,” Franklin said. “There have been times when the yards have been dirty and he made all the kids get trash bags and clean up the neighborhood. They didn’t like it, but they did it.”

His most public persona was as the organizer of the annual Columbia Firework Wars. Loved by Harris and many in the community, hated by law enforcement and others, he tried to make the event safe and fun and organized cleanups when it was over.

“It was two sides of town that did not get along,” Franklin said. “There had been shootings and fights. Those two parts came together and had a peaceful firework war. There was no violence, none of that. Every time he had one he went out there and cleaned up the neighborhood. Everyone had to participate.”

Some had Harris pegged as a future political leader because of his wit, intelligence and commitment to fighting injustice. Franklin said he recently expressed he might seek a bid as city councilman.

“He didn’t say anytime soon,” she said. “He wanted to get it together, clean up a little bit more and learn the ropes before he stepped into that world. That was something that was definitely on his radar.”

Franklin described him as an “old soul,” who possessed a wisdom beyond his years.

“This has always been him,” Franklin said. “The humbleness in him, the old soul, that’s his grandpa. His grandpa passed away. That’s who made him into who he was. As he got older he saw the power he had in the community. When he spoke everyone listened, so he started using his voice for what it should be used for.”

His senior English teacher at Hickman High School, Phil Overeem, echoed those sentiments. He described Harris as one of his brightest students and recalled a story of how Harris, unlike most seniors, wanted to sit in the front row and engage with the classroom.

“He always had something substantial to offer for discussion,” Overeem said. “He was very aware of the history of his community and a brave person when it came to getting involved in classroom discussion. He was very creative. His network of friends went beyond your typical high school student. He made friends with anybody and everybody.”

Harris' display of kindness to a student teacher who was catching grief from the rest of the class is something that sticks out in Overeem’s mind.

“I had a student teacher that year and one thing that student teachers run into immediately is once a regular teacher is gone or concedes authority, the students will try to test the student teacher. Ahmonta not only did not do that, he made a specific attempt to make my student teacher feel comfortable," Overeem said. "He was just a really good human being to have in your classroom. If he ever missed school you felt it.”

Harris was on the verge of taking his linguistic prowess to the next level. He was set to headline his first concert Thursday at Rose Music Hall. North Village Recording posted its condolences on Facebook and that the show would go on in honor of his memory.

“Sadly, we will never get to see this star shine as bright as he could have, but the other billed artists along with the staff at The Blue Note/Rose and the family here at NVR want to bring our community together this Thursday for Monnie Man Memorial Showcase: Lyrics & Liquor at Rose Music Hall to remember and celebrate his life,” the post reads. “His loss is a monumental one. He was an amazing person and a genuine leader in our community.”

A vigil will be held honoring the life of the man many in the community knew as a young, ambitious, rough around the edges and humorous friend. Prior to the show, friends and family will gather at 8 p.m. Thursday at Douglas Park. All are welcome, as, in the words of his friend Almya Thomas, Harris was not one to judge and made everyone feel comfortable regardless of race, physical appearance or social status.

“I just think he made everybody comfortable with who they were, authentically,” Thomas said. “No matter if you have a disability, because he used to work with people with disabilities, everybody liked what he brought out. He never judged anybody.

“He showed nothing but genuine love to everybody. No matter what you were going through.”

ppratt@columbiatribune.com

573-815-1718