Tears for beloved ‘Miss Liz,’ 85. Shot dead, holding her walker, in her Liberty City yard
Just before sunset last Friday, an 85-year-old matriarch and community den mother, known to neighbors as Miss Liz, grabbed a cold Miller High Life and with the help of a walker made her way down to the mahogany tree in front of her home to catch what was left of the early evening sun and share a drink with a neighbor.
Seconds later she was dead — an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire of a shootout on a residential, tree-covered Liberty City street. The loss hit hard in a close-knit community that continues to be torn apart by gun violence.
“She was the tree,” said granddaughter Alexis Level. “She was so full of joy for everything.”
The shocking shooting death of Elizabeth Level — known affectionately to family and friends as Miss Liz — has left family grieving, neighbors stunned and police at a loss.
“She treated me like a daughter,” said Rosetta Covington, a neighbor of more than 50 years. “She’d always call me on the phone to see if I needed anything. She might have fussed a little, but she meant well. She was always trying to stay on our butts. Even me at 70, she was always on me.”
In the week since the shooting Miami Police have said very little, at least publicly. Police presence near the home has been ramped up considerably. That was especially true Tuesday evening, when close to 100 people gathered with prayer and testimony in Miss Liz’s memory, before releasing dozens of blue and white balloons into the sky.
Video of the shooting — taken from a police camera that family members say Level demanded be placed on the street and aimed toward her home because of previous gunfire — shows a bullet striking a car next to Level, then chaos as two men run past her and seem to return fire. Level is struck at some point, and crumbles.
Family members said the shooter was in a car on Northwest 10th Avenue and 52nd Street, just east of the home, when he opened fire.
They say Level was the only visible target at the time, as others were standing or seated behind a hedge and couldn’t be seen from the street corner. They said after the shooting that police kept them out of the small blue ranch-style home that Level has owned since 1971 until early the next morning, as they scrambled to get a search warrant to look inside.
Miami Police wouldn’t go on record with specifics about the investigation. But law enforcement sources say the neighborhood surrounding the home, at 1015 NW 52nd St., has been a hotbed for recent gang activity. The police camera, they said, has provided solid leads.
“We are absolutely certain she was not the intended target. She was an innocent bystander. We don’t know who the intended target was,” said Miami Police Chief Manny Morales. “But we have very solid leads and we’re extremely optimistic we will bring those responsible for this heinous crime to justice very soon.”
On Tuesday, standing in the center in the crowd of dozens who had gathered to honor Level, Miami attorney Nykeah Cohen — one of many relatives at the gathering — called Level’s death “devastating.”
“She survived the ills of Jim Crow and of segregation. She survived the McDuffie riots. But in 2022, sitting in front of her own home, she was shot down in cold blood,” Cohen told the group, her voice rising. “We have to find justice.”
Level’s untimely death only added to the frustrations of a family that has seen its share of tragedy the past few years. Her only daughter died of complications from COVID-19 in 2020. And last year, one of her six grandchildren was killed during a drive-by shooting near Miami Central High School.
“We’re just taking one day at a time,” said Level’s granddaughter and local rapper Griselda Bee.
Though exact details of Level’s life are sketchy, family members say she came to Miami with her daughter around 1970 from Savannah, Georgia, where she also lived in a neighborhood called Liberty City and where her parents owned a small mom-and-pop grocery store.
Level began work at Mount Sinai Medical Center as a nurse’s assistant almost right away. Within a year, she bought the small blue one-story home on Northwest 52nd Street for $16,000, property records show. Over the years her six grandchildren have lived there. But so have several others who simply needed a place to stay, Bee said. She retired from Mount Sinai in 2001.
“She took in people. Not even family. She opened her doors,” she said.
Level had a mischievous side, family said. She loved to gamble and play the slots, especially at Seminole Casino in Hollywood. And she always had music playing. James Brown, Gladys Knight and Aretha Franklin were her favorites. The family also took road trips with Level to Orlando or back to Savannah to visit family and friends.
Bee, at one point, provided a picture of Miss Liz standing beside boxing legend Muhammad Ali.
“They were good friends,” she said.
Tuesday’s gathering outside the home was a microcosm of her grandmother’s life, Bee said. There were so many people at one point, it seemed like a street party. Babies were in strollers. Teens dressed up. Young adults pulled up in souped up cars. Seniors Level’s age held candles in tribute.
Under that mahogany tree Level visited each day in front of her home were candles and teddy bears, flowers and the name Miss Liz spelled out with large white beads. A mother showed it to her child. Drinks were flowing. The pungent smell of marijuana was abundant. Betty Wright’s bluesy hit “After the Pain” blared on a speaker.
“We have to find justice for her name,” said Cohen, the family attorney. “She was the backbone of this family. And this family will never be the same.”
This story was originally published September 14, 2022 at 3:44 PM.
