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
For many people it takes a while to get what we are good at. For Ethan Parker, it didn’t take him long at all to know what his talent was, to sing. “Just keep holding on,” his voice echoed from the kitchen one morning getting ready for school.
His family had come to expect to hear his voice in the mornings. Or the rest of the day too, like the time he turned the neighborhood into an orchestra.
A group of friends were sitting around on the steps, trying to figure out what to do when Ethan came up with a great idea. “Guys, let’s make a song,” recalls his brother, Zach Parker.
With no instruments, everyone wondered how they would do it, even Ethan.
“Gimmie one second,” Ethan said, and he disappeared for 15 minutes and returned with his hand-picked recording instruments—sticks, bottles, trash can lids. “He was very serious while we were laughing at him, ‘Dude, what are we going to do with these sticks?’” said his friend Eric Brown.
WIth just a little imagination and focus, he turned normal objects into beautiful sounds. Each bottle rang a different note when tapped with a stick, and the lids made up the percusion section.
Once he started tapping and harmonizing, everyone joined along, turning the front porch into their own sold out concert, amusing neighbors and loved ones. “Ethan was so gifted and would stay dreaming,” Eric said.
”My boy could sure hold a tune, music was just in his soul from day one,” said his father, Syiee Parker.
Growing up in the West Oak Lane area, Ethan was one of four kids in a loving family, and the siblings were inseparable. ”Ethan was always by my side, I always knew my brother had my back,” said his sister Kayluh Parker. They always knew how to have fun.
While not the oldest of the bunch, Ethan was always looked upon as the protector of the siblings. “Nobody could mess with us, if you bother one we all were behind ready to protect,” says Kayluh. Ethan, while not the most overly vocal, was never hesitant to make sure his siblings were good.
“We called him papa because of his maturity and sweetness,” his mother Zakia Price recalls. He was always trying to be relied upon by his family to look after his siblings while also being a sweet kid to others.
At home, Ethan was like a teddy bear. His sister Lay remembers his hugs, and how she was always able to go to her big brother with anything to be reassured everything would be ok. “He always made me feel safe,” she recalls.
“If I ever scraped my knee, or felt scared of the dark, he’d wrap a bandage on me and sing me a song until the tears stopped,” Lay said.
On the playground, his joy was contagious. While others raced or tossed footballs, Ethan would start a circle of clap-along chants or lead friends in simple call-and-response melodies. His voice rippled through the air until everyone joined in, hands clapping and feet tapping.
He believed that music could bridge any divide, dissolving shyness and weaving strangers into a single chorus of laughter. Even during recess fights, he’d jump into the madness with a cheerful tune that somehow shifted the energy and made others come along.
A day that still hurts the family, on May 10, 2025, 12-year-old Ethan Parker was shot in the chest during a musical recording in front of his 15-year-old brother, on Mother’s Day, at the home of a friend in West Oak Lane on the 1500 block of E. Pastorius St
“‘Mom, you’re my favorite listener.’ He taught me that love is something you give away, note by note,” his mom said. Even now, Zakia keeps a journal of his life’s lyrics, snippets of conversations, favorite song lines, and drawings he left around the house to remind her that his melody never truly fades.
