THE WASHINGTON POST MAGAZINE 17where locked glass display cases showcased
tablets, laptops and prepaid cellphones in
bright green boxes. The cashier told Hall he
needed to give him a refund because he had
been unable to clear off the old files. Hall
was still trying to figure out if there were
any other options when Floyd came in a few
minutes later. Floyd meandered around the
front of the store, fumbling with cash in his
pocket and saying hello to almost every
employee he came across.
Floyd made his way through the aisles,
passing display shelves that offered Oreo
cookies and Little Debbie snacks. He then
grabbed a half-rotten banana and said
something to a teenage cashier, before
bending over in a fit of laughter. The
cashier, whose father was one of the store’s
owners, looked puzzled but shrugged it off
and pointed his finger with a get-a-load-of-
this-guy smirk.
Christopher Martin, another teenager
behind the register, immediately noticed
Floyd’s size — 6-foot-6, 225 pounds, bulg-
ing biceps — accentuated by the snugly
fitting black tank top he was wearing.
Martin asked him if he played baseball.
Floyd stuttered and rambled for a moment
before responding that he played football.
Martin, tall and slender with light-brown
skin, had seen drunk and high customers
come into the store before, and he thought
Floyd might be under the influence.
Around that time, Hill walked inside the
store and glimpsed Floyd’s muscular sil-
houette. “Oh my God, Floyd,” she said.
“Baby,” Floyd responded, “I was just think-
ing about you.” He wrapped his arms
around her, and she kissed him where her
lips met his body: on his chest, at the valley
of his tank top. Hill, though, was surprised
to see Floyd dressed that way, knowing his
mother had taught him to look presentable
when he was out on the street. Hill asked
why he was wearing a tank top and baggy
pants. “I’ve been moving,” Floyd explained.
And before all the errands with Hall, Floyd
said, he had been playing basketball.
Floyd suggested that maybe they could
head to a park and catch up. After Hill told
him that she needed to watch her grand-
daughter, Floyd offered to give her a ride
over there. Hill smirked. “I was thinking I
was going to get me some,” she recalled.
Hill and Hall had never met each other
before, but the trio ended up leaving the
store together. Before they left, Floyd
bought a pack of menthol cigarettes. “He
gave him the money, I saw them take the
money,” Hill said. “They give him the
ci garettes, and they give him the change.
We walked out the store, went in the car, we
Shawanda Hill and Floyd had an on-and-off relationship since
the summer of 2019. On Memorial Day evening, they met up at
CUP Foods. Hill was also blocked by the parks officer and was
unable to see Floyd being suffocated under Chauvin’s knee.
When an ambulance arrived, she shouted across the
intersection, “Why is he going to the hospital?” There was no
response. After the officer said she could leave, she went to
babysit her granddaughter. She found out Floyd had died
watching the early morning news. She still harbors guilt that
she didn’t do more to save his life. “Tell the family, I’m so
sorry,” she said.