This story was produced as part of our Writing Heals program, in which we hire a family member of a victim of homicide to write the stories of people who have been killed in Philadelphia. For more information or to sign up to write about someone you lost to gun violence, click here.
Story by David Bratcher, who first wrote about Tyshea Howard
It’s Friday afternoon, school is almost over and the science exam is in the rearview, so Angelique Holloman starts planning her weekend. Even though she already had plans to hang with her mom, she didn’t want to leave her best friend, Marjani Thomas. With no hesitation, Angelique with tells her, “Girl, you coming over my house. Just pack a bag, you can have my bed.”
Angelique was like that in every space she entered, with a warmth that seemed to wrap around people like a favorite blanket. At a young age, she had already mastered the art of making others feel seen, valued and cared for. Her kindness wasn’t a performance but was who she was, through and through. And she was going to have fun while doing it all.
“She just had this way of making you feel like you mattered,” said her mom, Sherique Holloman. “Even if she’d just met you, she’d treat you like she’d known you forever.”
Angelique grew up in Strawberry Mansion, where she found her sense of humor and love from her community. She was always able to make friends anywhere she went and left a great impression with her incredible smile.
Angelique’s friends often said she brought a good vibe wherever she went. She was the kind of person who would stop to help someone with their TikTok routine, check in on a classmate who seemed down, or share her lunch without a second thought—but maybe with a joke.
“She couldn’t walk past someone struggling without trying to help,” Sherique said. “It didn’t matter if it was a friend, a neighbor, or a stranger. She just cared.”
Marjani remembers countless moments when Angelique’s caring nature shone through. Like during one really bad way when she showed up at Marjani’s house with snacks and a playlist of funny videos she made just for her. “We’re not talking about what’s wrong until you’ve laughed at least three times,” Angelique told her.
“She knew how to make you feel better without making a big deal about it,” Marjani.
While Angelique’s compassion ran deep, she also had a lighthearted, goofy side that made her a joy to be around. She didn’t take life too seriously, and she had a knack for finding humor in everyday moments.
“She could make me laugh until my stomach hurt,” Marjani said. “Even in serious situations, she’d find a way to lighten the mood, not to dismiss it, but to remind you that it’s OK to smile.”
Sherique smiled as she remembered her daughter’s playful spirit. “She’d dance around the house, make silly faces in the mirror, or start singing and dancing out of nowhere. She just enjoyed life, and she wanted everyone around her to enjoy it too.”
Angelique loved basketball and played with determination, often encouraging her teammates with a quick joke or a high‑five. Her favorite male player was Kevin Durant, and she took a huge liking to Aja Wilson and Aaliyah Boston. She hoped one to play in the WNBA with them and inspire the next generation of lady hoopers.
“She wasn’t the loudest on the court, but she was the one who’d lift you up when you missed a shot,” her teammate Brionna Jones said. “She made you want to play better, not because she demanded it, but because she believed in you.”
Off the court, TikTok was her playground. She and her friends would spend hours creating videos, laughing at bloopers, and trying to perfect the latest trends. “She loved making people laugh online just as much as in person,” Sherique said. “It was another way for her to connect.”
Angelique wasn’t afraid of hard work. Even at 15 years old, she loved having a job, not just for the independence it gave her, but because it allowed her to contribute to her family and save for her future. She got a part-time gig working at McDonalds.
“She was proud of earning her own money,” Sherique said. “She’d talk about what she was saving for, but she’d also spend on little surprises for her siblings or friends. She was generous like that.”
Her dreams went far beyond herself. Angelique wanted to become a foster as soon as she was old enough. She had seen firsthand how the system could fail children, and she was determined to be part of the change.
“She told me, ‘Mom, I’m gonna make sure kids feel safe and loved, no matter what,’” Sherique said. “She wanted to start with the kids in our own community. She said, ‘They’ll be my first project.’”
Her best friend remembers those conversations vividly. “She’d talk about it like it was already happening. She had plans on how she’d decorate the rooms, what kind of meals she’d cook, how she’d make sure every kid felt special. She wasn’t just dreaming; she was preparing.”
Just one week before Christmas 2024, Angelique’s life was tragically taken when she was gunned down on the 2700 block of North Dover Street.
“Every day I get up and I am still waiting and hoping that this is the longest bad dream ever,” Sherique said. “I lost my baby, and I will never forget the day people decided to steal the joy from this earth.”
Her best friend’s voice broke as she spoke. “I still expect her to text me, to send me a TikTok, to tell me to come outside. It’s hard to believe she’s not here.”
Sherique hopes her daughter’s legacy will inspire others to carry on her mission. “If you want to honor Angelique, help someone. Be kind. Stand up for kids who need it. That’s what she would want.”
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