Candles lined the sidewalk near the Citgo gas station at 38th Street and Arlington Avenue while white balloons drifted in the wind on Monday night. This place became sacred; Ron G. Frieson, more commonly known as Ron Gee, was gunned down days earlier in his car next to pump number four.
Hundreds came, spilling out of cars that filled up at least two lots. In between tributes to the founder of Cease Fire Indy, people danced and sang, rapped and prayed. Children came with their grieving parents in strollers. A little girl sat on the curb, licking a rainbow lollipop, so far from the recent violence, yet so close to its memory.
This was a larger-than-life display for a larger-than-life man.
Balloons are released during the vigil. Credit: Lee Klafczynski for Mirror Indy 
Asharia Frieson, 20, is hugged during the vigil. Credit: Lee Klafczynski for Mirror Indy 
Attendees participate in a candle lighting ceremony. Credit: Lee Klafczynski for Mirror Indy 
James Wilson (right), founder of Circle Up Indy, greets someone. Credit: Lee Klafczynski for Mirror Indy 
Attendees make their way to the vigil. Credit: Lee Klafczynski for Mirror Indy 
Memorial candles line the sidewalk. Credit: Lee Klafczynski for Mirror Indy 
Ronald Frieson Jr., 19, during the vigil. Credit: Lee Klafczynski for Mirror Indy 
People watch a balloon release. Credit: Lee Klafczynski for Mirror Indy
“This brother didn’t die for nothing,” Juard Barnes, a friend and fellow advocate, told the crowd. “He died to make sure your 12-year-old son doesn’t have to face this insanity.”
Frieson, 40, was a restaurant owner, community leader, father of three and fierce champion for non-violence. On July 18, he died by the same weapon he spent his life convincing others to drop. Police have not announced any arrests in the case.
The shooting sparked an outpouring of emotion in Indianapolis, along with a frenzied search for answers. Social media knew Frieson was the victim before his own children did.
“I was about five minutes away from the scene,” said Renee Frieson, his 18-year-old daughter. “Someone texted me, ‘Sorry for your loss.’”
She will always remember how her father drove an hour to attend her high school graduation in Lafayette last spring. Frieson came in the same blue Chevy Tahoe he died in — but on that day, he was driving wild, accelerating just to make her smile. “He took it around the neighborhood like it was a Hellcat,” Renee Frieson said, laughing.
Whitney Frieson, 35, shared similar memories of her brother’s generosity and love — a legacy she and his children will carry on by continuing the work of Cease Fire Indy.
“Once everything dies down we will want the same love we are getting now,” she told the crowd. “We’ve all been there when funerals happen and somebody passes. After the funeral, it’s crickets. But with this movement he had, Cease Fire, me and the kids are taking it over.”
The family knew Frieson was working close to violence every day. He was shot for the first time in 2018, leaving the hospital with a permanent scar on his stomach. The incident only renewed his commitment to calling for a cease fire, Whitney Frieson told Mirror Indy.
“I told him, ‘God gave you a second chance at life,’” she said. “He felt like he could really stop somebody from killing.”
And, according to stories shared at the vigil, Frieson did.
“He saved countless lives because he wasn’t scared,” said Terrance Hood, a close friend and anti-violence advocate. “Ron used to go into the most dangerous neighborhoods by himself with his cease fire sign.”
By the end of the night, a version of that cardboard sign was surrounded by dozens of flickering candles with handwritten messages. The crowd had released their balloons to the sky. Frieson’s children cried in one another’s arms as someone sang, “Take Me to the King.”
They also shouted with joy as dozens of cars drove by, honking and revving their engines, Ron Gee style.
Mirror Indy reporter Mary Claire Molloy covers health. Reach her at 317-721-7648 or email maryclaire.molloy@mirrorindy.org. Follow her on X @mcmolloy7.
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