The statement from Michael and Susan Pretti, released in the raw hours after their son Alex Jeffrey Pretti’s death on January 24, 2026, has been dissected, quoted, and sometimes distorted across social media and news cycles. While viral claims suggest the parents described a dramatic “transformation” where Alex “seemed to have joined someone else” and quietly resigned from his Minneapolis VA ICU position months earlier, fact-checks trace these specifics to fabricated articles on low-credibility sites designed for clickbait. The Prettis’ actual words, shared via outlets like the Associated Press, CNN, and Reddit threads aggregating family messages, focus on defending their son’s character against federal accusations, expressing deep grief, and rejecting what they called “sickening lies” from authorities.

Michael Pretti, speaking from the family’s home in Colorado (with some reports placing earlier roots in Wisconsin), told reporters he had cautioned Alex about protesting safely just weeks before the shooting. “We had this discussion with him two weeks ago or so… go ahead and protest, but do not engage, do not do anything stupid,” he recalled. Alex assured them he understood. This conversation hints at growing concern over Alex’s involvement in demonstrations against aggressive immigration enforcement operations in Minneapolis—operations that had already turned deadly with the killing of protester Renée Good earlier that month. Yet no evidence supports claims of abrupt resignation or unusual behavior; Alex remained a dedicated registered nurse at the VA until his death, licensed since 2021 after transitioning from research to frontline care.

The parents described Alex as “a kindhearted soul who cared deeply for his family and friends and also the American veterans whom he cared for as an ICU nurse at the Minneapolis VA hospital.” They emphasized his desire “to make a difference in this world,” a drive that extended from bedside compassion to public advocacy. Colleagues and his final nursing student, Jessica Hauser, echoed this consistency: four months of preceptorship filled with patient, calm instruction on life-saving techniques, mirroring the composure he showed in his last moments—asking a fallen woman “Are you okay?” amid pepper spray and struggle. Far from portraying a sudden shift, these accounts paint a man whose principles of healing and justice deepened over time, perhaps intensified by the national turmoil under the Trump administration’s immigration crackdown.

Misinformation surged quickly. Sites like btuatu.com published pieces inventing interviews, quoting nonexistent doctors, and claiming Alex exhibited “unusual behavior” and had “joined some kind of group.” These were debunked as AI-generated spam from Vietnam-based networks targeting emotional topics for traffic. No video exists of the Prettis speaking to reporters at home about resignation or transformation; their public voice remains the written statement and brief interviews rejecting federal claims that Alex approached agents armed or intent on harm. Video analysis shared widely shows him holding a phone while trying to protect someone, not a weapon.

Alex’s path reflected steady commitment rather than rupture. Born in Illinois, raised in Green Bay, Wisconsin, he excelled academically, sang in choirs, earned a biology degree from the University of Minnesota, and worked in research before pursuing nursing to serve directly. At the VA, he specialized in caring for critically ill veterans—patients facing complex, often terminal conditions—earning praise for diligence, humor that lightened dark shifts, and empathy that honored their service. Dr. Aasma Shaukat remembered his kindness and civic sense; Dr. Dmitri Drekonja called him outstanding. Unions like AFGE (representing VA workers) and National Nurses United mourned him as one of their own, demanding accountability from DHS Secretary Kristi Noem and broader reforms.

The parents’ anger targeted the “reprehensible and disgusting” narrative pushed by officials, including accusations of Alex being a domestic terrorist or armed threat. They highlighted video evidence contradicting these claims and pleaded: “Please get the truth out about our son. He was a good man.” This plea resonated amid vigils in Minneapolis, moments of silence at VA facilities nationwide, and calls from figures like former presidents Obama and Clinton for de-escalation. Even some Republicans joined demands for investigation into Noem’s handling and the use of force in protests.

Alex’s beliefs—strong support for the Second Amendment, constitutional rights, and peaceful advocacy—aligned with his nursing ethos: protect the vulnerable, bridge divides, communicate rather than confront. His participation in demonstrations stemmed from concern over ICE tactics, environmental rollbacks (as his mother Susan noted), and broader justice issues. Family warnings to stay safe suggest awareness of risks, but no indication of radicalization or hidden departure from work. Claims of a cracked rib from prior clashes with agents appear unsubstantiated in credible sources.

In the wake of tragedy, the Prettis’ words serve as a counter-narrative to polarization. They mourn not a changed stranger but a consistent son whose compassion led him to intervene—much like he did daily for patients. Vigils honor him alongside other victims, nurses hold strikes in solidarity, and veterans groups reflect on losing a caregiver who understood sacrifice. The fabricated stories of transformation distract from the core truth the parents sought to preserve: Alex lived to heal, cared until the end, and died trying to help another. His legacy endures in every life he touched, every lesson he taught, and the call for truth his family continues to echo amid grief and outrage.