biography about my father

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A short biography of my father

As I've already mentioned online somewhere, my father died in late November. His memorial service will be held in February, at the church he attended. I wrote up a short biography for the pastors at the church to refer to in their eulogy (or whatever it is called that is read out at a memorial service) and I thought I'd post it here too, as a sort of closure. It is admittedly the 'good' version of my father's life, and leaves out a lot, but it is what I think is most fitting.

Masamichi Itoh was born in 1936 in Tokyo. His parents were Salvation Army officers working at a Salvation Army hospital. They were Christians, which was very unusual for Japanese people at that time. While he was evacuated to the countryside during the war, he spent most of his youth in Tokyo. Years later he remembered always being hungry as a child, especially in the postwar period, and his mother struggling to feed six children. He was the oldest.

From an early age he was very interested in America and learning English. In his teens he had more than 25 penpals in America, all but one of whom were girls, most of them blonde. His favorite American actress was June Allyson. When he entered college in the '50s, he grew his hair into a "regent" - a big fluffy pompadour at front, like James Dean - and frequented the dance halls of Tokyo, dancing the boogie woogie.

At the age of 26 he married Michiko Munemura, a 21 year old girl with big eyes. It was an arranged marriage, the usual way young people got married in Japan at the time. They eventually had three daughters - Makiko, Mayumi and Megumi. Makiko lives in France, Mayumi in Japan, and Megumi in Florida. He also has two grandchildren, Lyoh and Lena.

His English ability and his interest in travelling abroad finally came together in his early 30s, when he was sent to England by his company to cultivate business there. He was their sole representative in Europe for 5 years. After six months he was joined by his wife and two older daughters (daughter no. 3 was born later in the United States). Life was tough sometimes, but looking back later he said he really enjoyed his time in England.

After several years in England and a year in New York, he and his family returned to Tokyo. But back in Japan, he did not feel like he fit into his company anymore. Unhappy, he took the drastic step of resigning - a very unusual thing to do for a Japanese salaryman in the 1970s. He found another job back in New York and the family moved once more.

Perhaps because of so many moves, the marriage became too strained, and he divorced from his wife a few years later. He eventually found friendship and a purpose in life again when he joined the Universal Church, which became the center of his spiritual and social life. He found it very fulfilling to serve on the church's board, especially after retirement. That and his friends here [in New York] were the main reasons why he decided to live out his retirement in New York rather than going back to Japan.

Masamichi had a lifelong love of good food, movies, and travel. He used to keep file folders full of the business cards of restaurants he visited around the world. When he was in his 60s, he went back to dance class again to boogie woogie once more.

(See also: Doing business as a Japanese businessman in the '60s and '70s' )

Comments on this post:

Thank you for sharing.

Did you parents decide to keep the M name going or is that something that Japanese families do traditionally? We almost did that with our son. But I decided I didn't want tradition and his name is so strange to most people anyway that I just like it. Even though it's a really old English name. Your Father really lived a vibrant life, or at least it sounds that way! Thank you so much for sharing!

The M thing is just a

The M thing is just a coincidence, definitely not any kind of tradition. Though when it came time to name my youngest sister my parents may have looked for an M-name on purpose.

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Reflections on the World of My Father

November 22, 2014 | yalepress | Literature

The experience of editing the book, A Voice Still Heard , a selection of essays by my late father Irving Howe, was for me an exploration into my father’s life outside the family home. My father was a private person; he did not talk very much about his childhood or later formative experiences at City College or in the army during World War II (he spent two years in Alaska), nor did he share a great deal about his work with me. During the 1950s and 60s, when he was building his reputation as a literary and political critic, I was a child and adolescent engaged in activities other than reading my father’s essays and books. After my parents were divorced, when I was about nine, my father and I maintained a very warm relationship that grew stronger once I was in my 20’s. At this time I began to read his work more seriously and I, as a voracious reader of fiction, began to rely on my father as a source of literary recommendations. In later years, when visiting New York, I would examine the stack of books on a small table next to Dad’s desk to see what he was reading and what novels he might recommend. Our joint love of literature, especially the American, European, and Russian schools, was one of the many strong bonds between us. Once he asked me if I could recommend any Canadian authors besides Margaret Atwood and I sent him an early collection of Alice Munro’s stories, nervously awaiting his response. When he declared her stories to be “very fine”, I felt relieved; no doubt he would have been pleased that she won the Nobel Prize for Literature last year.

The journey of curating this collection, together with the wonderful assistance of my son Nicholas, was, at least in part, a personal exploration about my father’s more public ideas and persona.  It was a way for me to capture a more intimate view of how he thought, of the ideas that attracted his attention, and how he crafted his writing. As I read through the many pieces recommended by several very helpful individuals, I developed a deeper understanding of the role that democratic socialism played in his intellectual life. I have always been proud that he and Lewis Coser had founded Dissent magazine in the early 1950s at the height of the McCarthy era. Reading his political writings from that time until his death in 1993 provided a longitudinal view of the larger and enduring political themes in his writings and how intertwined they were with his literary interests. Throughout his life, my father was a caring and optimistic but ultimately realistic person; indeed he hoped for a “world more attractive.”  Had his immigrant parents landed in Canada instead of New York, he might have entered politics as a member of the New Democratic Party (NDP), which is a social democratic political party. Stephen Lewis, whose interview with my father appears at the end of the book, was a leading member of the NDP. His father, David Lewis, was one of the party’s founding and intellectual architects. Today, the NDP is the official opposition in the Canadian parliament, which would have both pleased and surprised my father.

My father did not amass a collection of professional or personal papers. Shortly after his death, my brother, Nick, was contacted by several universities eager to receive such a collection, but were dumfounded to learn that there were no such papers. When my father finished an essay or a book, he apparently disposed of any drafts. Also, he did not keep any correspondence or papers related to Dissent . When my father died, Nick found only the essays in his desk that were published posthumously in A Critic’s Notebook, several of which are included in the present collection. The finished essays had a checkmark on the top of page one, apparently to indicate that they were complete, whereas several other essays were still being drafted, but were developed enough to be published. There was no personal correspondence found in his desk, and in fact I only have one personal letter from my father, written after I had experienced a bout of cancer; it is a very short but touching letter that I treasure.

While posted in Alaska during World War II, my father wrote a number of letters to my mother, but unfortunately the box in which they were stored went missing in a move at some point in the late 1940s. I have often wondered what he wrote her and whether the letters were drafted in a more personal tone than his more formal writing. He also sent my mother a list of 96 novels that he read during his posting, which clearly formed his own graduate education. In reading through the pieces with my son for this book, there are hints of the personal in several of the essays. Although he rarely directly wrote about himself, the experience he describes in “Strangers” about Jewish American immigrant youth growing up in the slums of NYC during the Depression and coming to terms with American literary figures like Emerson and Frost could surely only have been based on his own experience. Or the literary world he describes in “The New York Intellectuals” certainly speaks of his experiences, as probably did some of the chapters in World of Our Fathers , which we opted not to include in this collection. I felt that it was important for the reader to end the book with two pieces that provide a glimpse of the personal and emotional side of my father, which is why we included the moving piece on his conflicted feelings about the death of his own father, as well as the interview with Stephen Lewis in which Dad spoke of his childhood and youth. Both of these pieces struck a chord with me that I wanted to share with others.

Books reviews were in many ways the staple of my father’s life. Some were selected for the collection because they were about books that Dad had recommended to me, while others stood out for other reasons. I have a clear memory of a phone call from Robert Silvers while I was visiting on Cape Cod in the summer of 1963, at the height of a strike at the New York Times . Silvers was in the process of founding the New York Review of Books and asked my father to write a book review. I remember how excited my father was when he got off the phone. In looking up that first issue, one can only admire the incredible list of authors that Silvers published, including a review of The Partisan Review Anthology by my father.

Curating this collection with the dedicated and valuable assistance of my son, Nicholas, and with the contributions of other family members has been a moving and proud experience for me. I only wish my father were still alive so I could share some of my perceptions and thoughts on his work with him and to bask in his pride for the work that his grandson and I did. But if he were still alive, I probably would not have edited this collection of his work because he would have likely done so himself. In some ways, this is a bittersweet moment for me but also a deeply enlightening and gratifying one.

Nina Howe is Concordia University Research Chair in Education and a member of the university’s Faculty of Arts and Science. The daughter of Irving Howe, she recently edited a collection of her father’s essays entitled  A Voice Still Heard .

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The autobiography of my father, martin edmond.

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Awarded third place in the 1993 Wattie Book Award, Martin Edmond's The Autobiography of My Father is a pioneering work of creative non-fiction in which Edmond transforms his grief at the death of his father, Trevor Edmond, into a fascinating memoir and love letter. Two major sections of The Autobiography of My Father allow us to meet Trevor Edmond in his own words through taped interviews and confessional notes that he wrote for his psychiatrists. The book also presents a counterview to the opinions expressed in the celebrated autobiography of Lauris Edmond (Martin's mother), a leading poet and public figure. This is a deeply moving evocation by a gifted writer. 

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 Third place – 1993 Wattie Book Award  The Autobiography of my Father , Martin Edmond 

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Essay on My Father for Students and Children

500+ words essay on my father.

Essay on My Father: Usually, people talk about a mother’s love and affection, in which a father’s love often gets ignored. A mother’s love is talked about repeatedly everywhere, in movies, in shows and more. Yet, what we fail to acknowledge is the strength of a father which often goes unnoticed. Father’s a blessing which not many people have in their lives. It would also be wrong to say that every father is the ideal hero for their kids because that is not the case. However, I can vouch for my father without any second thoughts when it comes to being an ideal person.

My Father is Different!

As everyone likes to believe that their father is different, so do I. Nonetheless, this conviction is not merely based on the love I have for him, but also because of his personality. My father owns a business and is quite disciplined in all aspects of life. He is the one who taught me to always practice discipline no matter what work I do.

Most importantly, he has a jovial nature and always makes my mother laugh with his silly antics even after 27 years of marriage. I completely adore this silly side of him when he is with his loved ones. He tries his best to fulfill all our wishes but also maintains the strictness when the need arises.

One of the best things I love about my father is that he has always kept a very safe and open home environment. For instance, my siblings and I can talk about anything with him without the fear of being scolded or judged. This has helped us not to lie, which I have often noticed with my friends.

In addition, my father has an undying love for animals which makes him very sympathetic towards them. He practices his religion devotedly and is very charitable too. I have never seen my father misbehave with his elders in my entire life which makes me want to be like him even more.

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My Father is My Source of Inspiration

I can proudly say that it is my father who has been my source of inspiration from day one. In other words, his perspective and personality together have shaped me as a person. Similarly, he has a great impact on the world as well in his own little ways. He devotes his free time in taking care of stray animals which inspires me to do the same.

My father has taught me the meaning of love in the form of a rose he gifts to my mother daily without fail. This consistency and affection encourage all of us to treat them the same way. All my knowledge of sports and cars, I have derived from my father. It is one of the sole reasons why I aspire to be a cricket player in the future.

To sum it up, I believe that my father has it all what it takes to be called a real-life superhero. The way he manages things professionally and personally leaves me mesmerized every time. No matter how tough the times got, I watched my father become tougher. I certainly aspire to become like my father. If I could just inherit ten percent of what he is, I believe my life will be sorted.

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Home — Essay Samples — Life — Admired Person — My Father – A Person I Admire The Most

My Father – a Person I Admire The Most

• Categories: Admired Person Someone Who Inspires Me

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Words: 1488 |

Published: Dec 16, 2021

Words: 1488 | Pages: 3 | 8 min read

Table of contents

Introduction, the person i like most – my father, works cited.

• Dolan, A. (2020). The Importance of Role Models: Why You Need Them and How to Find Them. Psychology Today. Retrieved from https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/happiness-purpose/202006/the-importance-role-models-why-you-need-them-and-how-find-them
• Johnson, R. A. (2015). The Power of Positive Role Models. The Huffington Post. Retrieved from https://www.huffpost.com/entry/the-power-of-positive-role-models_b_6349268
• Shukla, P. (2018). Importance of Father's Involvement in a Child's Life. LinkedIn. Retrieved from https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/importance-fathers-involvement-childs-life-pooja-shukla/
• The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica. (2021). Role Model. In Encyclopaedia Britannica. Retrieved from https://www.britannica.com/topic/role-model
• Shehan, C. (2018). The Impact of Parental Involvement on Children's Well-being. Psychology Today. Retrieved from https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/singletons/201805/the-impact-parental-involvement-childrens-well-being
• Warneken, F., & Tomasello, M. (2006). Altruistic Helping in Human Infants and Young Chimpanzees. Science, 311(5765), 1301-1303. doi: 10.1126/science.1121448
• Hoff, E. (2006). How Social Contexts Support and Shape Language Development. Developmental Review, 26(1), 55-88. doi: 10.1016/j.dr.2005.11.002
• Bandura, A. (1991). Social Cognitive Theory of Moral Thought and Action. In W. M. Kurtines & J. L. Gewirtz (Eds.), Handbook of Moral Behavior and Development: Theory, Research, and Applications (Vol. 1, pp. 45-103). Psychology Press.
• Fletcher, G. J. O., Simpson, J. A., Thomas, G., & Giles, L. (1999). Ideals in Intimate Relationships. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 76(1), 72-89. doi: 10.1037/0022-3514.76.1.72
• Sulloway, F. J. (1997). Born to Rebel: Birth Order, Family Dynamics , and Creative Lives. Vintage Books.

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About My Father

Where to watch.

Rent About My Father on Fandango at Home, Prime Video, or buy it on Fandango at Home, Prime Video.

What to Know

About My Father finds star/co-writer Sebastian Maniscalco drawing on his own life for material -- and inadvertently proving that a funny standup routine doesn't necessarily make for an entertaining film.

Sweet and heartfelt, About My Father is a fun family movie that has some serious moments and plenty of laughs.

Critics Reviews

Audience reviews, cast & crew.

Laura Terruso

Sebastian Maniscalco

Robert De Niro

Leslie Bibb

Kim Cattrall

David Rasche

Movie Clips

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About My Father: release date, trailer, cast, plot and everything we know about the film

Robert De Niro is back again in another comedy.

For those not rushing to see The Little Mermaid or headed to the beach, there’s another option for Memorial Day. You can go to the movie theater to watch Robert De Niro’s new film About My Father , one of the 2023 movies . 

The comedy sees the two-time Oscar Winner play a headstrong Italian-American father whose commitment to tradition clashes with his son’s efforts to make a good impression on his fiancé’s parents. 

So what else can you look forward to with About My Father ? Here’s what we know.  

About My Father release date

About My Father hits movie theaters in the US and the UK on Friday, May 26. 

About My Father trailer

While De Niro is largely celebrated for his dramatic roles, every now and then he steps in more comedic projects and impresses moviegoers. Judging from trailer, it looks like De Niro is geared to once again impress would-be viewers. Check out the clip below. 

About My Father plot

Here is the official plot of the film: 

"The hottest comic in America, Sebastian Maniscalco joins forces with legendary Italian-American and two-time Oscar winner, Robert De Niro (Best Actor, Raging Bull , 1980), in the new comedy About My Father.  

"The film centers around Sebastian (Maniscalco) who is encouraged by his fiancé (Leslie Bibb) to bring his immigrant, hairdresser father, Salvo (De Niro), to a weekend get-together with her super-rich and exceedingly eccentric family (Kim Cattrall, Anders Holm, Brett Dier, David Rasche). The weekend develops into what can only be described as a culture clash, leaving Sebastian and Salvo to discover that the great thing about family is everything about family."

About My Father cast

Leading the cast is stand-up comedian turned actor Sebastian Maniscalco. This is gearing up to be a big year for Maniscalco as he also stars in The Super Mario Bros. Movie and Spinning Gold . He’s previously had roles in Green Book , Somewhere in Queens and The Irishman . 

Maniscalco stars in About My Father alongside his Irishman costar Robert De Niro. De Niro is a two-time Oscar winner who has been seen in classic films such as The Godfather Part II , Goodfellas , Casino and Taxi Driver . In terms of his comedic efforts, he’s been featured in the Meet the Parents franchise, The Intern , Dirty Grandpa and more. 

Joining the Maniscalco and De Niro are: 

• Leslie Bibb ( Jupiter's Legacy )  
• Anders Holm ( Inventing Anna )   
• David Rasche ( Succession ) 
• Brett Dier ( Jane the Virgin )   
• Kim Cattrall ( How I Met Your Father ) 

About My Father director

Laura Terruso directed the film. This will be Terruso’s most notable project, but she’s previously directed Work It , Good Girls Get High and an episode of the Apple TV Plus series Dickinson . 

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Essay on My Father

List of essays on my father, essay on my father – my role model and my friend (essay 1 – 500 words), essay on my father – for kids and children (essay 2 – 750 words), essay on my father – long essay for school students (essay 3 – 800 words).

Audience: The below given essays are exclusively written for school students (Class 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5 Standard).

Introduction:

My father is my hero and guide in my life. He is the one I look upon whenever I find myself in trouble. My father has been my guiding force for all my major decisions in life. In fact, I have never regretted adhering to his advice as it has always worked for me. He is a hardworking and passionate person. My father has a love for movies. Whenever he gets time, he just loves to watch an old movie. In fact, at times we just fight as to who gets control of the television. But at heart, we love to tease each other and play as well.

My father does not like to sit idle. At times, on holidays if he finds me and my sister doing nothing and just idling our time, he gives us some task or the other. He is also much organised and keeps all his documents in a properly organised manner.

My Father – My Role Model:

My father is my role model for many reasons. First and foremost I admire his passion for work. That is why he is so respected in his office as well. He is always there to help his colleagues even if it is not his work. In fact, one can always see him spending weekends helping others out. Moreover, my father is a simple man. He does not like expensive things and lives an easy and peaceful life. Also, he never shouts on anyone of us. I wonder if he ever gets angry on anything as he takes everything so calmly and takes his time to decide upon things.

My Father – My Friend:

My father is my friend as well. I can discuss everything with my father, even those that I dare not speak in front of my mother. I know that he shall keep it a secret and give the advice I need. He is the one whom I can rely upon blindly during any hour of need, and I know that he shall be there for me.

Importance of My Father in My Life:

My father plays an important role in the family. He is in fact considered as the head of the family. However, I feel that both father and mother have a distinctive role to play in bringing up their children. While on hand my mother has s soft heart, it is my father who shows courage and strength which his children will later on imbibe as their qualities. He can be firm at times, but be rest assured it is always for the benefit of the children.

Conclusion:

There is no doubt that my father’s role is vital in my life. His presence is vital for maintaining the balance and peace in my family. A father is the one who earns the badge of the stricter parent and whose denial of permission for anything means a lot to the children. I also admire my father and try to imbibe his qualities so that I become like him when I grow up.

My father is a person who takes care of my family and loves each one of us dearly. My father acts as the pillar of support and strength for my family.

My father is the person that I admire the most in my life. I can never forget all the childhood memories that I have with him. It is safe for me to say that my father is largely the reason behind my present joy and happiness. I can say that I am the person who I am today and the person that I am growing to be, is all because of the influence he has had and is having on me. He always makes time to play with me and catch up on all the happenings in my life even after the hard work of the day.

My father is one man who is very unique and different. I always feel lucky anytime I remember that he is my father knowing how he has done the very best for me in life. I always feel grateful that I have the opportunity to be his son and be a part of a wonderful family that has a great father like him. My father has shown himself to be a very peaceful and polite person. He seldom scolds me and he is always easy with me. What he tries to do is that he makes sure that I realise the mistake that I have made in a very polite way and helps me to get better and this has been working like magic for many years now.

My father is the leader and head of our family. He is always there for every member of the family to help us in times when we need his advice and direction in taking decisions. Anytime we have a problem, we take it to him, he tries to help us by sharing some of the problems that he also faced in the past that are quite similar to our problem and how he was able to overcome them. He also shares all of his achievements and drawbacks in life and tells us to learn from them.

My father has his personal online marketing business but he never insists any of his children to pursue a career in that same field so that we can take over after him. He does not even try to attract any of us to his business but he tries to teach how we can discover our own passion and fields of interest in life. He does his best to encourage us in the pursuance of our various dreams. I can boldly say that my dad is a very good dad and this is not as a result of him always helping me and being nice to me but because he shows great strength, knowledge, a good helping and nice nature. He also owns very good human relations skills.

My father’s parents were very poor when he was growing up but with hard work and patience, my father was able to become very rich. He uses this as an example to encourage me to always work hard.

I share all of my happy, sad and bad moments with him and he also does the same. He is always around to share with me all of his life experiences and how I can learn from them. My father also tells me all about his day and every event that occurred during the day. He is doing all his best to ensure that I grow up to become a very successful person that has good character and behaviour.

My father always teaches me ethics, humanity and etiquettes of life that can help me in future. My father is always ready and willing to help the people who are needy around us and he tells us that giving is the most important thing in life. My father also teaches my siblings and me how to be happy, healthy and fit throughout our lives.

My father has shown himself to be very good to all the members of my extended family. If anyone of us is facing a particular problem, my father is usually the first person we go to for advice and help. My father has over the years proven to be a person who has a very kind heart and I can boldly say that he is my best friend and my hero.

About My Father:

Appa was born in Coimbatore, the second son and third child in a family of 11 children. His father, my grandfather was a stern man, a respected civil engineer who worked for the colonial British government.

Appa attended the Rishi Valley School in Yercaud, founded on the learning philosophy of Jiddu Krishnamurthy. There he learned the value of discipline, respect for hard work, honesty, responsibility and constant learning. He studied electrical engineering at Banaras Hindu University and went on to join Voltas Limited’s air conditioning division. He worked there the rest of his life, and was regarded as brilliant and a genius.

My childhood memories of him are as a stern, strict and not very communicative man. He’d crack the most unhumorous Dad jokes and we’d all grimace and laugh dutifully.

He felt a deep and abiding sense of responsibility towards his own family of birth as well as his marital family. The modest salary he always earned would be divided between these two families, and since he was terrible at currying favour or promoting himself, he never rose within the ranks of Voltas and his income remained quite pathetic till he died. This officially made us a lower-middle class family and our childhoods were frugal, thrifty and austere. A little money meant a lot.

Despite these constraints, Appa planned our futures successfully. When his provident funds were released after his retirement, he used the entire amount, augmented by a bank loan, to buy a house in his two sons’ names. For the rest of our lives, we had a roof over our heads.

Why I like my father:

One of the most remarkable things about Appa was the number of things he was interested in. In Calcutta, he would spend hours outside a tailor’s shop watching him make clothes. After several months, he bought himself a Singer sewing machine. From then, all our clothes, including winter school uniforms, were stitched by him.

He taught himself carpentry — and constructed the sofa sets we used for decades.

He learned dry cleaning — and from then, we would go to school smelling of kerosene in winter.

He was an outstanding cook, and loved cooking. When my mother was immobilized with lymphatic TB, he’d cook breakfast, lunch and dinner for the family in the morning before leaving for work.

Best of all, he was a brilliant musician, gifted in playing the vichitra veena. He had his own Carnatic ‘band’ with a flutist and a mridangam player.

Things I Learned from My Father:

I have slowly realised how much of who I am was shaped by who he was. Like him, I never get bored, and remain fascinated by everything in life. I’m constantly active doing something constructive or educational. I am today two years younger than he was when he died but have started learning to play piano, understand search engine optimisation, UX design and painting.

I learned from him that generosity is a state of mind, not a state of wallet. The number of nameless, faceless poor people he had helped was long, as we learned only after he died. Never demeaning his beneficiaries with a handout, he invited them to repay at their time and speed, but made sure that they did, thus restoring their self-respect.

Without ever speaking about it, he has shown me what it means to be a father, and the meaning of selfless living.

A single incident sums up my relationship with my dad. He wanted me to join the IIT and become an engineer. I wanted to be a writer, a profession he disdained as having no future. Headstrong, in 1969, I stepped out of the train in which my family was relocating from Delhi to Bombay just as the whistle blew. I was bent on living my life my way.

My father, deeply upset, cut me off without a paisa, saying I could jolly well support myself if I was so confident about writing. And so I did, earning enough through writing for the evening papers to pay my rent, college fees and food. Six months later, my father, passing through Delhi in December, visited me to check how his strong-headed son was doing, and saw for himself that I was surviving well enough without borrowing or begging. He visibly swelled with pride.

He hugged me, in one action forgiving me but also forgiving himself. He used the 400 rupees he had received as a Christmas bonus to buy me utensils, a mattress, and other basics.

From that day, he would proudly say, “My son followed his heart rather than my head — and see what a fine job he has done.”

Father , My Father , Relationship

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Pablo Escobar: My Father: My Father Hardcover – August 30, 2016

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THE POPULAR SERIES NARCOS CAPTURES ONLY HALF THE TRUTH. HERE, AT LAST, IS THE FULL STORY. THE INTERNATIONAL BEST SELLER! Until now, we believed that everything had been said about the rise and fall of Pablo Escobar, the most infamous drug kingpin of all time, but these versions have always been told from the outside, never from the intimacy of his own home. More than two decades after the full-fledged manhunt finally caught up with the king of cocaine, Juan Pablo Escobar travels to the past to reveal an unabridged version of his father―a man capable of committing the most extreme acts of cruelty while simultaneously professing infinite love for his family. This is not the story of a child seeking redemption for his father, but a shocking look at the consequences of violence and the overwhelming need for peace and forgiveness.

• Print length 368 pages
• Language English
• Publisher Thomas Dunne Books
• Publication date August 30, 2016
• Dimensions 6.37 x 1.27 x 9.52 inches
• ISBN-10 1250104629
• ISBN-13 978-1250104625
• See all details

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Editorial Reviews

“While focusing largely on his father, Escobar also includes the grim repercussions the cartel boss’s career had on his family. The matter-of-fact prose serves the material well―when one’s daily life is a surreal blur of excess and danger, there’s no need for embellishment.”― Publishers Weekly “Escobar writes earnestly … will satisfy curiosity regarding the tawdry reality of childhood within a criminal family.”― Kirkus

About the Author

Excerpt. © reprinted by permission. all rights reserved., pablo escobar, my father, st. martin's press.

In the Residencias Tequendama apartment hotel on December 3, 1993, after the trip to bury my father in Medellín, our firm intention was to live as normal a life as circumstances allowed. For my mother, my sister Manuela, and me, the past twenty-four hours had been the most dramatic of our lives. Not only did we have to endure the agonizing pain of losing the head of the family in such a violent manner, but the funeral had been even more traumatic.

A few hours after Ana Montes, the national director of the attorney general's office, personally confirmed to us that my father had died, we had called the Campos de Paz cemetery in Medellín. They refused to perform the funeral service, and we might have had a similar experience with Jardines de Montesacro, except that relatives of our lawyer at the time, Francisco Fernández, owned the cemetery. My grandmother Hermilda had two lots there, and we decided to use them to bury my father and Álvaro de Jesús Agudelo, known as "Lemon," the bodyguard who was with him when he died.

After assessing the risks of attending the funeral, for the first time we defied one of my father's old orders: "When I die, don't go to the funeral; something could happen to you there." He'd insisted that we shouldn't bring him flowers or visit his grave either. But my mother said she'd go to Medellín "against Pablo's wishes."

"Well, then we'll all go, and if they kill us, so be it," I said, and we rented a small plane to travel to Medellín with two bodyguards assigned by the attorney general's office.

After landing at Olaya Herrera Airport and being besieged by dozens of journalists, who even risked their lives by swarming onto the runway while the plane was still moving, Manuela and my mother were ushered into a red SUV and my girlfriend Andrea and I into a black one.

When we arrived at Jardines de Montesacro, I was pleasantly surprised to see how many people had shown up for the funeral. It was a testament to the love that the lower classes felt for my father, and I was touched to hear the same chant they used when he would inaugurate athletic fields or health clinics in poor areas: "Pablo! Pablo! Pablo!"

In an instant, dozens of people surrounded our SUV and began pounding on it as we headed to the site where my father was to be buried. One of the bodyguards asked if I was planning to get out, but since I knew that we might be in danger, we retreated to the cemetery's office to wait for my mother and sister. I remembered my father's warning and decided the wisest move was to take a step back.

A few minutes after we entered the office, a secretary came in, panicked and in tears. Someone had just called to announce an attack. We ran out of there and got into the black SUV again, where we stayed until the funeral was over. I was right there, just thirty yards away, but I couldn't attend the service, couldn't say good-bye to my father.

On December 19, 1993, two weeks after my father's death, we received a call from Medellín: an assassination attempt had been made on my uncle Roberto Escobar in the Itagüí maximum-security prison.

At the time we were still sequestered under heavy guard on the twenty-ninth floor of Residencias Tequendama in Bogotá. Worried, we tried to find out what had happened, but nobody could tell us anything. The television news reported that Roberto had opened an envelope from the Office of the Inspector General and it had exploded, resulting in serious injuries to his eyes and abdomen. The next day, my aunts called and told us that the Clínica Las Vegas, where he'd been taken for emergency treatment, lacked the ophthalmology equipment needed to operate. And as if that weren't enough, there were also rumors that an armed commando was planning to finish him off in his sickbed.

My family decided to move Roberto to the central military hospital in Bogotá, which not only was better equipped but also offered security. My mother paid three thousand dollars to rent an ambulance plane, and once we'd confirmed that Roberto had arrived at the hospital, we decided to visit him with my uncle Fernando, my mother's brother.

As we left the hotel, we were unnerved to discover that the agents from the Technical Investigation Corps (CTI), the division of the attorney general's office that had been protecting us since late November, had been replaced that day, without previous notice, by agents from SIJIN, the police's criminal investigation unit. I didn't say anything to my uncle, but I sensed that something bad was about to happen. In other areas of the building, managing other aspects of our security, were agents from the Central Directorate of the Judicial Police and Intelligence (DIJIN) and the Administrative Department of Security (DAS). Outside, the Colombian army was responsible for our safety.

A couple of hours after we arrived at the hospital, a doctor requested authorization from one of Roberto's family members to remove both of his eyes, which had been badly damaged in the explosion. We refused to sign and asked the specialist to do whatever he could to preserve Roberto's sight, no matter the cost, even if the chances of success were vanishingly small. We even offered to fly in the best ophthalmologist from wherever he might be located.

Hours later, not yet conscious, Roberto came out of surgery and was moved to a room where a guard from the National Penitentiary and Prison Institute was on duty. Roberto's face, abdomen, and left hand were bandaged.

We waited patiently until he began to wake up. Still groggy from the sedation, he said he could see shades of light and darkness but was unable to make out shapes.

When I saw he'd recovered a bit, I told him I was feeling anxious. If they'd made an attempt on Roberto's life after my father's death, then my mother, my sister, and I were surely next. I desperately asked him if my father had a helicopter hidden somewhere that we might be able to use to make an escape. Over the course of our conversation, which was frequently interrupted by nurses and doctors making their rounds, I repeatedly asked Roberto what we could do to survive the threat posed by my father's enemies.

He was silent for a few moments and then instructed me to grab a pencil and paper.

"Write this down, Juan Pablo: 'AAA.' Take it to the U.S. embassy. Ask them for help, and tell them I sent you."

As I put the paper in my pocket, Roberto's surgeon entered and informed us he was optimistic, that he'd done everything he could to save my uncle's eyes. We thanked the doctor and motioned to leave, but he told me that I had to stay at the hospital.

"What do you mean? Why?"

"Your security detail hasn't arrived," he said.

The doctor's words made me paranoid because if he'd been in surgery all this time, he had no reason to know what was going on with our security.

"I'm a free man, Doctor. Or am I being detained here?" I said. "In any event, I'm leaving. I think someone's plotting to kill me today. They switched out the CTI agents who were guarding us."

"You're under our protection here, not under arrest. We are responsible for your safety at this military hospital, and we can deliver you only to government security forces," he said.

"The people who are responsible for my safety out there are the same ones who are coming to kill me," I insisted. "So you can either help me out by authorizing me to leave the hospital, or I'll have to make a run for it. I'm not getting in a car with the very people who are after me."

The doctor must have seen the fear on my face. He quietly agreed to sign the order, and Fernando and I furtively returned to Residencias Tequendama, deciding to visit the embassy the next day.

We got up early and headed to the room where the agents charged with our security were staying. I said hello to the agent known as "A1" and told him we needed an escort to the U.S. embassy.

"Why are you going there?" he demanded to know.

"I don't have to tell you that. Are you going to give us protection, or do I have to call the attorney general and tell him you've refused?" I replied.

"I don't have enough men to escort you there at the moment," A1 said, irritated.

"How is that possible, when a twenty-four-hour security detail of some forty government agents and vehicles has been assigned to protect us?" "You can go if you want, but I'm not going to protect you. And you'll need to sign a piece of paper waiving our protection," he said.

"Bring it, and I'll sign it."

The agent went into another room to look for something to write on, and we seized the moment to rush downstairs and hail a taxi to the U.S. embassy. It was eight in the morning, and at that hour there was a long line of people waiting to get in so they could apply for an American visa.

I was very nervous as I pushed past the waiting people, explaining that I wasn't there for a visa. When I reached the booth by the entrance, I took out the paper with the triple A and held it up against the dark, bulletproof glass. In an instant, four muscular men appeared and started to photograph us. I didn't say a word, and soon one of them approached and instructed me to follow him.

They didn't ask my name or for ID, didn't search me or even make me go through the metal detector. Roberto's triple A was obviously some sort of safe-conduct signal. I was scared. Maybe that's why it didn't occur to me to wonder what sort of contact my father's brother had with the U.S. government.

I was about to take a seat in a waiting room when an older man with nearly white hair and a serious expression appeared. "I'm Joe Toft, director of the DEA for Latin America. Come with me." He took me to a nearby office and asked me straightaway why I'd come to the embassy.

"I'm here to ask for help because they're killing my whole family. My uncle Roberto told me to tell you he sent me."

"My government can't guarantee you any kind of assistance," Toft said in a dry, distant tone. "The most I can do is recommend that a judge in the United States assess the possibility of offering you residence in my country in exchange for your cooperation."

"What sort of cooperation? I'm not legally an adult yet," I replied, only seventeen at the time.

"You can help us a great deal ... with information."

"Information? About what?"

"About your father's files."

"When you killed him, you killed those files."

"I don't understand," said the official.

"The day you collaborated in my father's death. ... His files were in his head, and he's dead. He stored it all in his memory. The only thing he kept on paper was information about the license plates and addresses of his enemies from the Cali Cartel, and the Colombian police have had those materials for a while now."

"Well, the judge is the one who decides whether you'll be allowed to go to the United States, so you'll have to convince him."

"Then we have nothing more to discuss, sir. I'm leaving now. Thank you very much," I told the DEA director, who tersely said good-bye and handed me a business card. "If you remember anything, don't hesitate to call me."

I was full of questions as I left the U.S. embassy. My surprising encounter with the head of the DEA in Latin America hadn't improved our precarious situation, but it had revealed something we hadn't known before: my uncle Roberto's high-level contacts with the Americans, the same people who just three weeks earlier had offered five million dollars for my father's capture, the same ones who'd sent their massive war machine to Colombia to help hunt him.

It was hard for me to believe that my father's own brother might be working with his number-one enemy. But the possibility gave rise to other doubts, and I soon wondered whether Roberto, the U.S. government, and the Los Pepes vigilante group (named for its members' shared claim of being "persecuted by Pablo Escobar") might have formed an alliance to bring my father down. It wasn't such a crazy theory. It made us reevaluate events we previously hadn't given much thought.

Back when we'd been in hiding with my father in a country house in the hilly Belén area of Medellín, Roberto's son, my cousin Nicolás Escobar Urquijo, had been kidnapped. On the afternoon of May 18, 1993, he'd been snatched and taken to the roadside restaurant Catíos between the villages of Caldas and Amagá in the Antioquia region.

We assumed the worst because at the time, in their zeal to find my father, Los Pepes had already attacked a number of family members on both my father's and my mother's sides. Fortunately, the scare ended within a few hours. At around ten that night, the kidnappers released Nicolás, unharmed, near Medellín's InterContinental Hotel.

In hiding, we had less and less contact with the rest of the family, so Nicolás's kidnapping was eventually forgotten, though my father and I did wonder how he'd gotten out of it alive. In the dynamics of that war between my father and Los Pepes and everyone else who wanted to take him down, a kidnapping was basically a death sentence. How had Nicolás been saved? What had Los Pepes received in exchange for his release only a few hours after abducting him? It seemed likely that Roberto had decided to make a deal with my father's enemies in exchange for his son's life.

I got confirmation of that alliance in August 1994, eight months after my visit to the U.S. embassy. My mother, my sister Manuela, Andrea, and I went to see what little remained of our family's Nápoles estate, which had been left in ruins since my father had gone into hiding. The attorney general's office had given us permission to go there so my mother could meet with a powerful local drug lord to transfer some of my father's real estate holdings. On one of those afternoons, as we were walking along the estate's old landing strip, we received a call from my paternal aunt Alba Marina Escobar, who told us she had to meet with us that night to discuss an urgent matter.

We immediately agreed because in our family, the use of the word "urgent" meant that someone's life was in danger. She arrived at the estate that same night, without any luggage. We met her in the estate manager's house, the only building that had survived the ravages of war. The government agents who were guarding us waited outside, and we headed to the dining room, where my aunt ate a bowl of stew. She was going to tell us something only my mother and I could know about.

"I've got a message for you from Roberto," she went on.

"What's going on?" I inquired anxiously.

"He's excited because there's a chance they might give you all visas for the United States."

"That's wonderful. How did he manage that?" we asked, and the expression on her face grew serious.

"They're not going to give them to you right away. There's something that has to be done first," she said. Her tone made me uneasy. "It's simple. Roberto was talking with the DEA, and they asked him a favor in exchange for visas for all of you. All you have to do is write a book about whatever topic you want, as long as the book mentions your father and Vladimiro Montesinos, Fujimori's head of intelligence services in Peru. Also, in the book you have to say that you saw Fujimori here at the Nápoles estate, talking with your father, and that Montesinos showed up on a plane. It doesn't matter what's in the rest of the book. ..."

"That's not actually such good news, Auntie," I interrupted.

"What do you mean? Don't you want the visas?"

"It's one thing for the DEA to ask us to say something that's true and something I'm comfortable saying, but it's something else for them to ask me to lie to further their devious ends."

"Yes, Marina," my mother broke in, "what they're asking for is really quite tricky. How are we supposed to justify saying things that aren't true?"

"Who cares? Don't you want the visas? You don't know Montesinos and Fujimori, so what does it matter if you say those things? What you want is to live in peace. These people have sent word that the DEA would be very grateful to you and that nobody would bother you in the United States from that moment on. They're also offering you the possibility of taking money there with you and using it without any interference from the government."

"Marina, I don't want to get myself tangled up in new problems by saying things that aren't true," my mother said.

"Poor Roberto, he's moving heaven and earth to try to help you, and the first opportunity he gets you, the two of you say no."

In a huff, Alba Marina left Nápoles that night. A few days after that meeting, back in Bogotá, I received a phone call from grandmother Hermilda, who was in New York with Alba Marina. After explaining that she'd traveled there for a bit of sightseeing, she asked me if I wanted her to bring me anything from the city. Naively, without recognizing the significance of the fact that my grandmother was in the United States, I asked her to buy a few bottles of a cologne that weren't available in Colombia.

Once I hung up, I felt unsettled. How could my grandmother be in the United States less than a year after my father's death, when as far as I knew the visas of all members of the Escobar and Henao families had been canceled? This was only the latest in a series of events in which my relatives appeared to have murky ties to my father's enemies. But, distracted by the struggle to merely stay alive, we let time pass without exploring those suspicions further.

Product details

• Publisher ‏ : ‎ Thomas Dunne Books (August 30, 2016)
• Language ‏ : ‎ English
• Hardcover ‏ : ‎ 368 pages
• ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1250104629
• ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1250104625
• Item Weight ‏ : ‎ 1.35 pounds
• Dimensions ‏ : ‎ 6.37 x 1.27 x 9.52 inches
• #199 in Organized Crime True Accounts
• #460 in Crime & Criminal Biographies
• #4,460 in Memoirs (Books)

About the author

Juan pablo escobar.

Son of the leader of the Medellín cartel, Pablo Escobar, JUAN PABLO ESCOBAR is an architect, industrial designer, lecturer, pacifist, drug policy reform advocate, and writer. He was a subject of the award-winning documentary Sins of My Father and lives in Argentina.

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My Unsung Hero

A simple smile saved this man's life.

Autumn Barnes

Ken Wilcox felt hopeless. Then a simple act from a stranger changed his life. Ken Wilcox hide caption

Ken Wilcox felt hopeless. Then a simple act from a stranger changed his life.

This story is part of the My Unsung Hero series, from the Hidden Brain team. It features stories of people whose kindness left a lasting impression on someone else.

Editor's note: This story discusses suicide. If you or someone you know may be considering suicide, contact the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline by dialing 9-8-8, or the Crisis Text Line by texting HOME to 741741.

Ken Wilcox started off 1993 feeling hopeless. He was working a new job in Washington, D.C., and while it paid well, his boss was what Wilcox describes as a "tyrant." On top of that, many of Wilcox's friends were getting sick and dying from AIDS.

"Life felt bleak," Wilcox said.

One January morning after a business meeting, Wilcox was walking down a busy street. It was bitterly cold, and all the holiday cheer of the new year had faded from the city. He'd just received two difficult phone calls: one from his angry boss and another from a friend who had recently been diagnosed with AIDS.

"So I was just really feeling miserable. And I just didn't understand what the purpose of life was," he remembered.

'I was broken and needed help': After her father died, a stranger stepped in

Because the sidewalk was crowded, Wilcox was moving along the outside curb near the road.

"And as I was walking, a city bus came along and it came so close to me that I could feel it brush [the] right arm of my coat. And suddenly an idea came to me ... And that idea was that I could wait on the next bus and just lean a little further out and that bus could take me out of all of my misery."

As he reflected on his idea, Wilcox made eye contact with a woman walking toward him.

"She quite deliberately looked at me and sought out my eyes. And when we locked sight, she just gave me this beautiful, wonderful smile," Wilcox said.

"She didn't say anything to me. She just smiled at me. And that one smile was enough to keep me going to keep moving forward."

Soon after that interaction with his unsung hero, Wilcox quit his job. He's now a minister, a job he loves.

"I have to marvel at the idea that all of that has come about because this one wonderful woman on a street in Washington, D.C. on a cold January day decided to smile at me. She is my unsung hero."

If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, there are people who can help. Call or text the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 988.

My Unsung Hero is also a podcast — new episodes are released every Tuesday. To share the story of your unsung hero with the Hidden Brain team, record a voice memo on your phone and send it to [email protected].

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Tim Dowling: my dad thinks I’m the smartest of his kids, but then he is 102

My kids are all absent, but here’s a transatlantic phone call with my brother and our extremely deaf and elderly father to fill my Saturday afternoon

I t is a recent tradition that our adult children spend the night back at home with us the day before they travel anywhere far away. As parents we may have a diminishing relevance in their lives, but we remain very handy for the airport.

I hear the middle one pull the front door shut behind him at 5.45am on Saturday morning, off on a week-long business trip. When I next wake up it’s almost 9am, and the house seems emptier than ever.

The day is cold and overcast. My wife is upstairs at her computer, working on something. In the afternoon, with no immediate plans, I lie on a sofa and read a book. My eyes are just beginning to roll back in my head when my phone rings.

It’s my brother, face-timing me from Connecticut. He’s at the kitchen table in my father’s house, looking tired.

“What’s going on?” I say.

“It’s story time,” he says, spinning his phone round until my dad, sitting opposite him with a cup of coffee, is in the frame.

My father, who is 102, is evidently in the middle of relating a memory from the olden days – something, I think, about the war. But by the time my brother gets the phone pointed at him he is stalled between thoughts, staring into the middle distance. This goes on for 20 seconds, then 30.

“Um,” I say.

“Anyway,” my brother says, spinning the phone back round. “You missed a fun tale. Something about bodies floating by in Japan.”

“He wasn’t in Japan,” I say.

“His brother,” my brother says. “So what’s happening there?”

It’s still early morning in Connecticut, but I can tell from the sunlight streaming across the kitchen table that it’s shaping up to be a fine spring day. I tell my brother about the middle one’s work trip.

“He should be landing in New Orleans about now,” I say.

“What’s he doing there?” my brother says.

“What am I, his manager?” I say. My brother spins the phone back to my dad, who remains lost in thought.

“Say something interesting!” my brother shouts at my dad.

“What?” says my dad, who is very, very deaf.

“I said say something interesting!” my brother shouts, even louder.

“Are you kidding?” my dad says, scowling and peering into the phone screen. “Who is that?”

“It’s your son!” my brother says.

“My son?” my dad says.

“Your son in London,” my brother says. My father scowls again.

“London?” he says.

“Are they feeding you?” I shout. There is a long pause.

“Is he the smart one?” my father says.

“He wants to know if we’re feeding you!” my brother shouts.

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“YES,” I shout. “THE SMART ONE.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve eaten,” my dad says.

“At least he remembers that,” my brother says.

One of my nephews wanders into the frame, waves, shows me his new retainer on command, and wanders off again. The phone turns back to focus on my dad.

“Where am I right now?” he says.

“You’re in your house!” my brother shouts. My father looks to his right, and his left, and out the kitchen window, and nods.

“I like it,” he says.

“That’s a relief,” I say. A bell rings. In the background I can just see the front door opening and my father’s carer silhouetted on the front step.

“Who were the people who used to live in that big house behind?” my father says, pointing.

“When?” says my brother.

“They were called Leach,” my father says.

“What a name,” I say. I have never heard of the Leaches.

“Leach hated us,” my dad says, “because my brother and I always used to cut across his property.” This would explain why I’ve never met any Leaches: they moved away some time in the 1930s.

My brother spins his phone back so his own head fills the frame.

“So if you were thinking about visiting …” he says, implying, as always, that I should not wait.

“Yeah,” I say. “I think I should have time in the summer.”

“What about your sons?” my sister-in-law says as she walks past the phone screen. “Their cousins want to see them.”

“Possibly,” I say. “They lead busy lives.”

“I think he might have been the smartest one,” my father says. “I think they gave him some kind of a test.”

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The life and music of Amy Winehouse, through the journey of adolescence to adulthood and the creation of one of the best-selling albums of our time. The life and music of Amy Winehouse, through the journey of adolescence to adulthood and the creation of one of the best-selling albums of our time. The life and music of Amy Winehouse, through the journey of adolescence to adulthood and the creation of one of the best-selling albums of our time.

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• Trivia Marisa Abela had done most of the singing in this film herself. She trained extensively to mimic Amy Winehouse 's vocals.

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Family speaks out on $3.8 million settlement following Atlanta deacon's death after tasing

Arnitra Hollman told "GMA3" the settlement "will never value my father’s life."

The family of Johnny Hollman, the 62-year-old Atlanta deacon who died after an Atlanta police officer tased him following a minor crash in August 2023, spoke out after reaching a $3.8 million settlement with the city of Atlanta.

"[The settlement] will never value my father's life," Hollman's daughter, Arnitra Hollman, told "GMA3" co-anchor DeMarco Morgan in an exclusive interview set to air on Thursday.

"$3.8 million will never give us closure. We will live with this pain for the rest of our lives. This is our new normal," she added.

The Atlanta City Council unanimously voted in favor of the settlement on Monday night, agreeing to pay $3.8 million to settle a civil lawsuit filed in January by the Hollman family against the city of Atlanta, former police officer Kiran Kimbrough and Atlanta Police Chief Darin Schierbaum.

The complaint, a copy of which was obtained by ABC News, alleged that "unlawful use of excessive force" led to Hollman's death after the deacon was tased while resisting arrest for refusing to sign a citation saying that he was at fault in a minor crash.

ABC News reached out to the Atlanta Police Department and Kimbrough's attorney, but requests for comment were not immediately returned.

Body camera footage shows police tasing death of Atlanta deacon Johnny Hollman

Hollman family attorney Harold Spence told "GMA3" that the settlement is a "clear acknowledgment that they understood that there was a wrong that needed to be righted."

The settlement comes amid an ongoing investigation into the deacon's death on Aug. 10, 2023, by the Georgia Bureau of Investigation and the Fulton County District Attorney's office.

A spokesperson for the Georgia Bureau of Investigation told ABC News on Thursday that GBI gave the case file to the Atlanta Judicial Circuit District Attorney's Office on Nov. 3, 2023.

Asked about the settlement and the status of the investigation, a spokesperson for the Fulton County DA's office told ABC News that "because the case is still under investigation at this time, we cannot comment."

Hollman family attorney Mawuli Davis said in a statement following the settlement that "While this part of their struggle is coming to a close, this fight for justice will not end until criminal charges are levied."

What we know about Atlanta man Johnny Hollman's death at hands of police

Hollman's death led to policy changes at the Atlanta Police Department that were announced by the city in November 2023.

"What I don't want to see is this happening to anybody else," Arnitra Hollman said. "I don't want this to happen to another family … I want policing policies to change. Traffic violations shouldn't call for a death sentence."

Changes implemented following Hollmans' death include the launch of a civilian response unit to respond to "low risk calls for service," and allowing officers to write "refusal to sign" when an individual refuses to sign a traffic citation, as opposed to requiring arrest, according to a November 2023 city press release.

"My thoughts remain with the Hollman family, and while nothing can undo what has been done, my priority was to get this family as close to full closure from this unfortunate tragedy as soon as possible," Atlanta Mayor Andre Dickens told ABC News in a written statement following the settlement. "Significant changes to procedures following the incident have been made, which include the new CARES unit—whose first members' training should conclude next month."

What the body camera video shows

Body camera video released by the Atlanta Police Department (APD) in November 2023 shows an argument ensuing between Hollman and Kimbrough after the deacon refused to sign a traffic citation, saying he was at fault in the minor crash.

The one hour and six-minute-long video showed Hollman repeatedly telling Kimbrough he'd done "nothing wrong," while Kimbrough threatens to arrest Hollman if he doesn't sign it.

In the video, the interaction appeared to escalate when Kimbrough attempted to arrest Hollman and the deacon resisted.

During the struggle, Hollman can be heard eventually agreeing to sign the ticket. A tow truck driver, who was called to respond to the crash, can also be seen in the body camera footage helping hold Hollman to the ground.

While being pinned to the ground, Hollman can be heard on the video repeatedly saying, "I can't breathe."

The officer first threatened to use his Taser gun on Hollman, and then eventually activated his Taser, video shows. Hollman appeared to become unresponsive almost immediately after being tased. He was later pronounced dead at a hospital.

Arnitra Hollman told ABC News in an August 2023 interview that her father had "chronic asthma" since he was a child.

An autopsy conducted by the Fulton County Medical Examiner's office lists Hollman's manner of death as "homicide." The report, a copy of which was obtained by ABC News, lists "Cardiac dysrhythmia due to use of a conducted energy device in association with hypertensive and atherosclerotic cardiovascular disease," as the cause of death.

Kimbrough was initially placed on administrative leave amid an internal investigation but police announced on Oct. 10 2023 that chief Schierbaum "terminated Officer Kimbrough for failing to follow the department's standard operating procedures" during Hollman's arrest by failing to call a supervisor to the scene before attempting to arrest Hollman for failing to sign the traffic citation.

Arnitra Hollman was on the phone with him during the incident for more than 17 minutes and was "likely on the phone with her father at the time he took his last conscious breath," according to the complaint. When she arrived on the scene, she found him "on the ground, motionless," the lawsuit alleges.

Reflecting on her last conversation with her father as the nine-month anniversary of his death approaches on Friday, Arnitra Hollman told Morgan, "He just kept calling on Jesus' name towards the end. It's like his voice was getting lower and lower and lower."

"I still can remember his voice. I can still hear him scream. I can still hear his wallow," she added. "I can still see how he was. He didn't deserve that."

ABC News' Alyssa Acquavella contributed to this report.

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