When they were children in India, flushed and sun-kissed, they would play cricket games in grassy fields.

He would always let his younger sister, Vipa, win because she hated losing and he didn’t want a fight. It was the right thing to do, he would tell her, and Jayesh Prajapati believed in doing the right thing.

So much so, his family says, that it cost him his life.

Prajapati, 44, was the gas attendant at a west-end Shell station who was killed on Saturday night after he tried to stop a man attempting to drive away without paying his $112 bill.

MORE:Provincial politicians look for solutions after ‘gas and dash’ death

Prajapati was struck down and dragged by a vehicle. He was rushed to hospital, where he died shortly after.

Max Edwin Tutiven, 39, of Toronto, is wanted for second-degree murder in Prajapati’s death.

Tutiven also faces two outstanding warrants for gas theft in Toronto issued this year and a third in Montreal.

Police issued a Canada-wide warrant for his arrest Monday and said they believe he may flee to Montreal, where he has associates.

Now Prajapati’s family, gathered in his small, one-bedroom apartment, says Prajapati spoke about people leaving without paying and said he wouldn’t tolerate it.

“He stood up for what he thought was right,” Vipa Prajapati says.

Prajapati’s only son and wife live in a high-rise apartment complex in Etobicoke, a far cry from the luxurious mansion his sister said they lived in as kids in Vadodara, a city in India’s Gujarat region.

A chemist who earned a master’s degree in India, Prajapati brought his family to Canada in 2006 in hopes of a better future for his son. He was determined to find a job in his field but realized it would be harder than he thought. So he took a job at the Shell station at Marlee and Roselawn Aves., and worked full time Monday to Saturday to pay the bills.

There, he earned the respect of area residents. Many knew him as a kind man and saw him frequently as they bought gas or cigarettes at the gas station.

More than 150 people came out Monday night to light candles and say prayers near the very spot where his body was found.

Lida Maguerza remembers when he helped her figure out how to restart her car when she was having trouble.

“I (was) a first-time driver,” she said. “He helped me figure it out. When I heard about what happened, I couldn’t sleep.”

Others remember the simple things — opening the door to let someone in if they came just after close; forgiving someone who is just a few cents shy; or waving out the window as people pass by.

“It reminds me of back home (in the Philippines),” said Elisa Maesa, who often bought cigarettes from Prajapati. “Everybody knows everybody here.”

Prajapati’s family is now pondering the future without him. The family was supposed to move to a two-bedroom apartment soon, but until then, Prajapati slept on a small mattress in the living room and his son and wife took the bedroom, decorated with Toy Story stickers on the walls.

Sunday was usually the best day of the week for 11-year-old Rishabh Prajapati, the only full day he got to spend with his father.

But this Sunday, instead of battling it out in a Wii game or playing chess, the Grade 7 boy spent it grieving for a best buddy and father he will never get to play with again.

Rishabh and a cousin spin toy tops on a plastic table in the small living room surrounded by relatives. His top slowly stops spinning and his cousin gleefully exclaims, “I win!” Rishhabh smiles, but there is a heaviness about him, a visible effort to grin.

Hemant Kumar, Prajapati’s brother-in-law, watches the young boys. He says detectives were in the house all weekend and everyone was crying. He said he told Rishhabh his father died but didn’t offer details.

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

“What should I say to him? I don’t have the guts to tell him what happened to his dad,” he says, his eyes glazing over.

Vipa Prajapati says their father was a chemistry professor and Prajapati took an early interest in the topic, inspired first by the chemistry of food.

“At the dinner table, there’d always be talk about what we were eating. Why the ingredients mixed on the table ended up blending the way they did,” Vipa says with a smile.

She says her brother was the most generous person she has ever known.

“When our father died, he never asked me if I was in need of money. He just would send me a cheque,” she says.

It was his kindness that made his wife, Vaishali Prajapati, a petite woman with shiny black hair, fall in love with him, she says. They were married 15 years ago in India.

“When I first talked to him, I knew he was perfect for me. He had such a kind nature and he was always worrying about me,” she says, breaking down in a heap of loud sobs.

Vaishali says that, just last week, her husband arrived with heaps of treats and food so she didn’t have to cook and they could spend more time together. All her friends gushed about how lucky she was.

She touches pictures in a family album, stroking a tiny image of her husband’s face lovingly.

A relative calms her and holds a glass of water to her lips so she can drink. Her hands tremble too much for her to do it on her own.

Now she will be the main breadwinner for the family.

“She’s scared how she’s going to survive. She has to learn from scratch,” Hemant Kumar says.

The family says they are outraged at how Prajapati died. They say they want the person who did it caught and punished.

“Why would you kill someone for a hundred bucks? Is that what his life was worth?” a relative pipes up and shouts.

Quietly, alone, Prajapati’s son spins his top in the corner of the room on the hardwood floor. Chess is better, he says. But it will make him too sad to play. His favourite opponent — his dad — is gone.

With files from Tim Alamenciak

Read more about: