“BABE, I’MA DIE! BABE, I’MA DIE! . . . BABE, I’M GONNA DIE!” POP, POP, POP POP, POP, POP “What do you mean, you’re gonna die?” “They shot me!” “Who shot you? Where are you?” “The police got me. They shot me in my arm! . . . Why y’all tryin’ to kill me! Why? What are y’all doing?” POP, POP, POP “Tell me what’s happening. Please, please, tell me what’s happening.” Taking cover inside a cramped, dark auto repair garage, Keith Davis Jr., in what he believed were the last moments