Brent and Luke Ganger, the brothers of Renee Good, are testifying Tuesday afternoon at a public Congressional forum concerning “the violent tactics and disproportionate use of force by agents of the Department of Homeland Security.”
Below is a transcript of the opening statements made by the Ganger brothers.
Luke Ganger
I was talking to my 4-year-old last week, when she noticed I was not doing well. I had to come here today and talk to some important people. She knows that her aunt died and that somebody caused it to happen.
She told me that there are no bad people, and that everyone makes mistakes. She has Nay’s spirit.
The deep distress our family feels because of Nay’s loss is in such a violent and unnecessary way is complicated by feelings of disbelief, distress and desperation for change.
In the last few weeks, our family took some consolation thinking that perhaps Nay’s death would bring about change in our country. And it has not.
The completely surreal scenes taking place on the streets of Minneapolis are beyond explanation. This is not just a bad day or a rough week or isolated incidents. These encounters with federal agents are changing the community and changing many lives — including ours — forever. And I still don’t know how to explain to my 4-year-old what these agents are doing when we pass by.
Our family is deeply grateful for the outpouring of love and support from the community in Minneapolis and from people across the country and around the world.
The prayers and words of support have truly brought us comfort and it is meaningful that these sentiments have come from people of all colors, faiths and ideals. That is a perfect reflection of Renee, who carried peace, patience and love for others wherever she went.
Our family is a very American blend. We vote differently, and we rarely completely agree on the finer details of what it means to be a citizen of this country. We attend various churches and some not at all. And despite those differences, we have always treated each other with love and respect, and we’ve gotten even closer during this very divided time in our country.
And we hope that our family can be even a small example to others, not to let political ideals divide us, to be good like Renee.
But the most important thing we can do today is to help this panel and our country understand who Nay is, and what a beautiful American we have lost: the sister, a daughter, mother, a partner and a friend.
Brent Ganger
I’d like to share some thoughts from the eulogy that I gave on my sister’s behalf this past Saturday.
When I think of Renee, I think of dandelions and sunlight. Dandelions don’t ask permission to grow. They push through cracks in the sidewalk, through hard soil, to places where you don’t expect beauty, and suddenly there they are — bright, alive, unapologetically hopeful.
That was Renee, and sunlight, warm, steady, lifegiving. Because when she walked in a room, things felt lighter, even on cloudy days.
Renee had a way of showing up in the world that made you believe things were going to be OK. Not because she ignored the hardship, but because she chose optimism anyway. She chose to look for what was good, what was possible and what was worth loving.
Nay loved fiercely, openly and without hesitation. As a mother, Renee poured herself into love, the kind of love that shows up every day, that sacrifices quietly, that cheers loudly, that believes deeply.
Her children were and are her heart, walking around outside her body, and she made sure they felt safe, valued and endlessly loved.
As a sister, she was constant. Someone you could lean on, laugh with or just sitting in silence beside. She had a way of making you feel understood even when you didn’t have the words yet. She didn’t just listen, she saw you. She believed in second chances. She believed tomorrow could be better than today. She believed that kindness mattered, and she lived that belief.
Even when things were hard, Nay looked for the light, and if she couldn’t find it, she became the light for somebody else. It was the excessively ordinary things that made Nay so beautiful.
There are billions of people who now know her name, and it would be so easy to fall into the false belief that great heroic things are required to overcome difficult things in the world.
But as Tolkien wrote, “it is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay, small acts of kindness and love.” That’s why the image of dandelions feels so right. People try to pull them up, overlook them, dismiss them — but they keep coming back stronger, brighter, spreading seeds of hope everywhere they land.
Renee planted those seeds in all of us, in her children, in her family, in friends, co-workers and people who maybe didn’t even realize they needed her light at the time.
And sunlight, sunlight doesn’t ask for recognition, it just gives, it warms, it nurtures, it helps things grow. Renee did that for us. She helped us grow. She helped us believe in ourselves. She helped us see the good even when life felt heavy.
Renee is not gone from us. She’s in the light that finds us on hard days. She’s in the resilience we didn’t know we had until we needed it. She’s in the laughter, the memories, the love that continues to grow.
Like dandelions, like sunlight, and like Renee.
