Aasir Mikell Davis had three part-time jobs: Forever 21, BJ’s Wholesale and an Amazon warehouse. His mother, Rovella Davis, worked for the state and encouraged him to apply for a full-time clerical position, which offered good benefits more stability.
The plan was for him to go into work with his mom, fill out an application, and take the train home.
“All of the ladies fell in love with him,” Rovella said. “He had breakfast with us, and he was running errands and taking selfies. He stayed the entire day at my job with me.”
But it didn’t work out the way they planned. Fifteen days later, on Oct. 23, 2015, Aasir was shot and killed in West Kensington at an intersection that Rovella had just passed through a few minutes earlier. He was 20 years old.
“The entire office was in an uproar because they got to know this kid that day,” she said. “If it hadn’t been for the one day he went to work with me, they would have been sad for me, but they knew him for themselves. They got to see how sweet he was.”
Aasir and his mother Rovella, taken the day he went into work with her.
Aasir was born May 19, 1995 in Philadelphia. He was a twin; his sister Cierra was born three minutes before. He also had another sister, Ascia, who is eight years older.
“He was a unique kid with a huge imagination,” Rovella said. “He grew up around girls, and my oldest daughter was like a second mom to him. He was very sweet, very sensitive, very affectionate.”
He would show kindness to kids who were bullied, and he once asked Rovella if she would buy dinner for a homeless man who was outside an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet.
Aasir graduated from Edison High School in 2014. While in high school, he was a certified lifeguard and worked at public and private pools in and around the city.
He was a natural athlete, Rovella said. He was a runner and was focused on taking care of his body and eating healthily like his idol, Malcolm X, with whom he shares a birthday.
Rovella laughed as she remembered her son’s playful side. He’d tickle her feet while she was napping, then hide. She once asked him to wash the dishes before she got home. She walked in and found him staring at the dishes, which were still dirty, insisting she had told him to “watch the dishes.”
She had a close relationship with her son. He would often call her and vent about whatever was on his mind at the time, then he’d stop abruptly and say, “Enough about me, mom. How are you?”
They had in-depth conversations, too.
“We had lots and lots of long talks,” she said. “We’d talk about the real world and life and how people are, and about how you should be your best self whether someone was looking or not. That’s very important because it’s not so much what other people think of you, it’s what you think of you and what God thinks of you.”
He also shared a tight bond with his sister Ascia, who helped to raise him. They were best friends, she said.
“We loved to play basketball together and I taught him how to drive,” Ascia said. “Everything he knew how to do, he learned it from me.”
She added: “He was a standup guy, very smart, really solid. His mentality was above a lot of adults out there. He had the potential to be someone great one day.”
Both Ascia and Cierra named their kids after Aasir. Cierra had a son a few weeks before her brother died and named him Jayden Aasir. Ascia had a daughter 10 months ago and named her Sunnie Skye, after Rovella’s nickname for Aasir, Sonny.
Ascia’s wife Victoria described her brother in law as “the image of a real man. He treated the women around him with respect and love.”
Aasir’s homicide is unsolved. The City of Philadelphia is offering up to a $20,000 reward for the arrest and conviction of the person responsible. Anonymous tips can be submitted by calling the Citizens Crime Commission at 215-546-TIPS.
Although Rovella hopes her son’s case is solved, she said nothing will bring him back.
“It would bring me some form of comfort to know the person who hurt my child can’t hurt anyone else, but who knows what brought him to that,” she said. “I can’t even hate him.”
Aasir’s photograph is included on a billboard near the Girard Point Bridge along with the photos of 25 other victims whose murders are unsolved. The billboard project, organized by officials at Every Murder is Real Healing Center, is called “Speak for the 26.”
