Michael K Williams remembered by Felicia Pearson
I met Mike in a club called Club One in Baltimore. I’d heard about The Wire and I’d seen them shooting around the city but I’d never watched it. I didn’t know who he was. I told my homeboy: “This man keeps looking at me. He’s looking hard with a scar on his face. He’s looking mean.” My homeboy told me: “Nah, that’s Omar off The Wire. He’s not nobody to be worried about.” That’s when Mike comes over and starts asking me questions. He thought I was a boy at first. He was like: “Wow, your charisma, your swag, everything about you is so dynamic and crazy, I love that.” I don’t know how because I was drunk.
He called me the next day and said: “Come see me.” I got myself together and went to the set and was just kicking it with him. Then the people from The Wire like Ed Burns and David Simon heard me talking and they came over and started asking me to pronounce words. I didn’t know what it was for. I was kinda nervous. These white people keep asking me questions. I ain’t used to that. White people ask me questions when I’m in trouble. But it turned out for the good.
If you needed help with anything, he was the guy to call. He was so nice, so loving, so caring
Mike’s work ethic was just crazy. He could read something three times and it would be right in his memory, then the fourth time he’s acting out how he’s going to do it. He’d say: “You like that? Did I do good?” I’d never seen anything like it. He worked like he didn’t even go out last night. That right there showed me that you can have fun but you have to work.
His life was amazing. He’d been through so much. I was surprised by the hurdles he’d been through trying to make it in the industry, from a background dancer with Madonna to getting a scar on his face and [working with] Tupac. It was crazy. Everything that my brother did, I supported. I don’t care what it was.
Williams as Omar Little in series four of The Wire. Photograph: Landmark Media/Alamy
We’d see each other on set but it was off set that we had the most encounters. Mike would come to my grandmother’s house with Method Man, or we’d go out to eat, or I’d ride to New York with him. He was the first person that flew me to California. It was like we knew each other for years. That’s what type of chemistry we had: big brother, little sister. I don’t care how we met – he was my brother. I really loved the ground that he walked on.
Mike was a sweetheart. He would give you the shirt off his back. The characters he portrayed that made him scary or a villain? He wasn’t like that at all. If you needed some words of encouragement, he was the guy to call. If you needed help with anything, he was the guy to call. He was so nice, so loving, so caring. He was amazing, man. Mike could walk around Baltimore by himself. They’d surround him but at the same time he was safe because they loved him. They thought he was from Baltimore. He was a caring king. He was a legend.
I get emotional talking about him because I can’t believe that he’s gone. I can’t pick up my phone and call him. He’d say: “Fefe, how you doing?” My family call me Fefe. You could tell when he was upset with me because he’d be like: “Felicia! Now what you doing?” He was the only one who could check me and let me know what I’m doing wrong and I won’t get mad. He fell in love with me and I fell in love with him.
Williams and Felicia Pearson at a performance by Prince and A Tribe Called Quest in Austin, Texas, 2013. Photograph: John Sciulli/Getty Images for Samsung
I spoke to him two days before he died. I was supposed to be coming to our friend in Jersey’s block party but I couldn’t make it because I was doing something for the kids in Baltimore. We said we loved each other. I told him I’d be up there this week and then I got a phone call a couple of days later. Jamie Hector [Marlo Stanfield in The Wire] called me and said: “Did you talk to Mike?” And I said: “Yeah, what’s wrong? You looking for him?” And he said: “They’re saying something’s wrong with Mike.” And that’s how I found out.
People ask if I’m OK. Nah, I’m not OK. It’s like losing my grandmother all over again. Death brings up other trauma that you probably ain’t even dealt with yet. I have been through a lot in my life but when you lose someone who actually really loves you, and you know they love you, it hurts. It hurts.