In the wake of their son Alex Pretti’s tragic death during a confrontation with ICE agents in Minneapolis, Michael and Susan Pretti have shared one of the most intimate and heartbreaking details yet: a phone call with Alex just weeks before he died. During that conversation, the family discussed ordinary domestic matters—the recent repair of Alex’s garage door—and the small act of generosity that now carries unexpected weight. Alex told his parents he had paid a Latino worker $100 as a tip for the repair job, a gesture made against the backdrop of rising tensions in the city over immigration enforcement.
For Michael and Susan, that casual mention of kindness toward a worker has taken on painful significance. They see it as emblematic of the man their son always was: compassionate, quick to help, and unwilling to let someone struggle. The $100 tip was not an extravagant sum in the grand scheme, but in the context of Minneapolis’s volatile atmosphere—marked by heated debates over immigration policy and aggressive enforcement actions—it stands as a quiet act of solidarity. Alex, an intensive care nurse who spent long shifts caring for veterans at the VA hospital, apparently extended that same instinct to everyday people he met.
The conversation, however, was not entirely light. Michael and Susan were fully aware that Alex planned to attend protests in the city. They knew he had been politically engaged since at least the 2020 demonstrations following George Floyd’s murder, and they understood that the current climate around immigration raids carried real risks. In the call, they urged him to exercise extreme caution. “We had this discussion with him two weeks ago or so, you know, that go ahead and protest, but do not engage, do not do anything stupid, basically,” Michael told the Associated Press. Alex’s response was calm and reassuring. “And he said he knows that. He knew that.”
Those words now haunt his parents. The simple parental advice—protest, but stay safe—has become the last direct guidance they ever gave their son. When news broke of Alex’s death, the memory of that conversation turned into an unbearable wound. Michael and Susan insist that Alex had no intention of breaking the law or escalating any situation. They maintain that he was unarmed, holding only a cellphone while raising an empty hand in an attempt to protect a woman who had been knocked down during the incident. The parents’ account stands in direct opposition to official characterizations, including White House Deputy Chief of Staff Stephen Miller’s public label of Alex as a “domestic terrorist.”
The garage-door repair story has become a small but powerful piece of the larger narrative. Supporters of the Pretti family have seized on it as further proof of Alex’s character. They point to the $100 tip as evidence that he was compassionate even in everyday interactions, especially toward a Latino worker amid a political environment hostile to immigrants. To them, the anecdote reinforces the image of a gentle, community-minded man who would never pose a threat to anyone. Online, fans and fellow nurses have shared the detail widely, framing it as one more reason the “domestic terrorist” label is not only inaccurate but cruel.
Critics, however, interpret the same detail differently. Some argue that Alex’s choice to attend protests—despite his parents’ warnings—demonstrates a pattern of risky behavior. They note that Minneapolis has seen numerous clashes between demonstrators and law enforcement, and they question whether someone who willingly entered those volatile spaces could truly be described as non-confrontational. A few commentators have even suggested that the $100 tip could be read as a symbolic gesture meant to provoke or signal political alignment in a tense moment. While this interpretation remains speculative, it has fueled arguments that Alex’s actions on the day of his death may not have been as passive as his family claims.
The phone call itself has become a focal point of public fascination. It was the last time Michael and Susan spoke with their son about both the mundane and the serious. The casual mention of the garage door repair contrasts sharply with the gravity of the protest discussion, making the memory feel all the more ordinary—and therefore all the more devastating. For grieving parents, the conversation represents both a final moment of normalcy and a painful reminder of the warning they gave, a warning Alex acknowledged but could not ultimately follow in the way they hoped.
As the investigation into Alex’s death continues and the political fallout grows, that single phone call lingers. It humanizes a man who has been reduced to headlines and labels. It shows a son who still talked to his parents about home repairs and listened—however imperfectly—to their pleas for safety. Above all, it underscores the unbearable truth for Michael and Susan: the last words they shared with Alex were filled with love, concern, and an unspoken hope that he would come home unharmed. That hope was shattered, leaving behind only the echo of a father’s quiet plea: “Do not do anything stupid.” Alex, they believe, never intended to.