A fight over a parking spot killed a 12-year-old girl. Then came prayer.

Jubilance. That’s what spread across Leon Day Park in Franklintown early Saturday as youth football teams faced off in spirited homecoming games with crowds of loved ones cheering on children around the field and fireworks blasting in the background.

But, as the day’s end neared, the celebration was cut short by a trivial dispute turned fatal. What began as two men arguing over a parking spot devolved into a mass shooting, killing a 12-year-old girl and wounding four other people.

The shooting, labeled a disgusting act of cowardice by public officials, has sparked outcries over violence in the city.

Police have not publicly identified the girl, and no one has been apprehended in connection with the shooting.

Ashley Esposito, a member of the Baltimore school board, said she was heartbroken over the girl’s death.

“I am not going to pretend I have the answer to community violence. I don’t,” Esposito said in a post online. “What I do know is that prevention has to include teaching all of us, young people and grown adults alike, how to handle conflict without it turning deadly.”

At the scene Saturday, Baltimore Police Commissioner Richard Worley said the root of the shooting was a parking dispute that escalated into two men firing at each other.

Joined by Mayor Brandon Scott, the two denounced the men responsible for the girl’s death. Scott took his remarks a step further.

“Some people don’t have the mental maturity to have a handgun. Some people don’t have the conflict resolution abilities to have a handgun,” he said.

Community members have organized a walk for peace in the girl’s memory for Monday. It will begin at North Avenue and proceed to Monument Street.

Running, crying and screaming

Sharon Garrison was seated on a red bench by the Leon Day Park entrance with one of her grandsons while the other played on the basketball court.

They hadn’t been there more than five minutes before they heard the first gunshot, she said. Fearful, she called for the two boys.

Seconds later, additional shots sounded in succession like “pop, pop, pop,” Garrison said. Together, the three ran out of the park and across the street to take cover behind ONE at Liberty Outreach Center.

When they eventually came out of hiding from behind the church, chaos had unfolded.

“I looked and I could see somebody on the ground,” she said. “Some of the football players was running up the street. They were just crying, and people were just hollering, screaming all over the place.”

Garrison grabbed the boys and took off.

But Sunday morning she returned to the church with her grandsons to pray for the community and thank God for protecting them.

There, Pastor Jewel Allen and her flock welcomed them. Several family members of the young girl who died are associated with the congregation.

Inside, gospel music played. Pastors took turns giving sermons. Despite having taken her chemotherapy medication just hours before the service, Allen, dressed in a midlength black dress and blazer, prayed over her community.

She wasn’t at the church at the time of the shooting, but she quickly responded by opening the house of worship to the community when text messages and calls poured into her phone.

As Garrison raised her hands in praise, Allen walked over to her row. She took Garrison’s hand in hers and placed the other on her head.

“Hallelujah, Jesus,” she yelled. “Bless her right now.”

Others surrounded them, each raising an arm toward Garrison while chanting hallelujah and amen. Garrison’s head rolled to the back of her shoulders, and she began to cry.

“Hallelujah,” she screamed as her body crumpled and another woman stepped in to prop her up. “Hallelujah. Hallelujah.”

She stayed that way, hoisted up by another for several minutes as Allen prayed over her for peace. As Garrison regained her footing, the pastor called for the group to follow her outside to the park for a prayer circle.

Slowly, the congregation filed out of the church to Leon Day Park’s asphalt parking lot, where members formed a circle, held hands and continued to pray.

Surrounded by others, Allen said the community had sought to expand parking in the area. But the help it needed failed to come before this “senseless” death, she said.

When the group finally made it back into the church, Allen took a moment to once more address the congregation.

“Help your people, Jesus. Help us, Lord,” she said before she collapsed to the ground. Others rushed over, laying her on her side and fanning air in her direction.

When Allen came to, her final message was short and simple.

“It affects all of us because she could be any of us,” Allen said. “That little girl is all of our little girls. It’s all of our daughters, nieces, grandchildren. It’s all of us.”