Andres Lopez Wyatt’s goals were simple: A steady job, a place to call his own, the love of a good woman. After serving time, he was finally believing in himself and on the cusp of fulfilling his dreams.
“I love life,” he confided in his older sister, Odalys. “I feel so good.”
But Andres would not have the opportunity to make his dreams a reality. Just a few months later, on Aug. 20, 2021, Andres was assaulted by two men and a woman then shot in the head inside a candy store on the 3900 block of Kensington Avenue in the Juanita Park section of Philadelphia. Police have made no arrests.
Odalys believes that her brother, who suffered from schizophrenia and cleared 6 feet 5 inches, exchanged words with the trio that were misinterpreted. He could be intimidating due to his height and outbursts, but was never a violent person, she said.
“This is not fair,” she said. “He was doing the right things, working hard and barely had time for himself. He was the heart of everything.”
Born on Sept. 28, 1985, Andres was raised in Cayey, Puerto Rico by his father and his extended family.
Growing up, Andres tried to bust out of anything hindering his absolute freedom. Although Odalys was only two years ahead of her brother, she made it her mission to protect him.
“I was the only person on this Earth that he was able to listen to, follow and respect,” she said. “He knew I would never fail him.”
Andres was a loving, upbeat person, greeting strangers to gain their acceptance. Odalys cautioned him that not everyone was his friend, and to ignore the voices ganging up inside his head.
“Don’t believe in the voices,” she instructed. “Believe in yourself.”
Andres eventually received his high school diploma; he was blessed with a sharp mind and a knack for numbers. On his 33rd birthday, he was released into Odalys’ arms. He was more mature than she remembered, with impeccable penmanship and a deep curiosity about the Bible.
Andres settled in with Odalys and her four children in Detroit. There remained an innocence about him, as if he were experiencing life in stunning amazement. He wept after jumping in a swimming pool for the first time. He rode hunched over kiddie bikes and played basketball, careful not to be accused of fouls because of his height.
In other ways, Andres demonstrated personal growth. He was quick to forgive people who hurt his feelings and offered advice to his nephew, Xavier Rosario, who has autism.
“Never let nobody drag you down,” Andres counseled. “Never let nobody tell you you’re not worth it.”
Animals and music were calming influences in Andres’ life. He enjoyed rapping in Spanish under the nickname, “Andresito.” He experimented with his own style, favoring hats and tight pants. He had a ravenous appetite, especially for pork chops and rice and beans; there would be no leftovers when he was around. Yet he would give his last sandwich to a homeless person.
Two years after his release, Andres asked his sister if he could move to Philadelphia. Odalys was hesitant, but she knew that it was time.
Andres moved to Juniata Park early last year and his father got him a job cleaning apartments. That first week, Odalys recalled lulling her brother to sleep every night over the phone, reminding him that he was finally on his own, with nobody to mistreat him, kick him out, or time his showers.
He was thrilled to purchase his first cell phone, a Samsung Galaxy, and was saving up to buy a Crown Victoria to accommodate his long legs. He met a special woman who lived in the complex he cleaned and hoped to open a carpet installation business one day.
Odalys had hoped that he would move with her and the family to rural Florida this year.
Yet Andres delighted in his independence. Soon, he told Odalys, he would be the one taking care of her.
“Sister, I’m free,” he declared shortly before he was killed. “I am a man.”
Andres is buried in Greenmount Cemetery in North Philadelphia.
A reward of up to $20,000 is available to anyone that comes forward with information that leads to the arrest and conviction of the person responsible for Andres’ murder. Anonymous calls can be submitted by calling the Citizens Crime Commission at 215-546-TIPS.
Resources are available for people and communities that have endured gun violence in Philadelphia. Click here for more information.
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