In the wake of the tragic shooting that claimed the life of Alex Jeffrey Pretti, a 37-year-old intensive care nurse at the Minneapolis VA hospital, the narrative surrounding his death has been fiercely contested. Pretti, a vocal participant in protests against the Trump administration’s aggressive immigration policies, was fatally shot by U.S. Border Patrol agents on January 24, 2026, during a demonstration in Minneapolis. Bystander videos quickly circulated, showing Pretti holding a phone—not a gun—before being tackled and shot multiple times. Federal officials initially labeled him a “domestic terrorist” who brandished a weapon, but those claims have been heavily disputed by witnesses, family, and video evidence.
For months, Pretti’s ex-wife, Rachel Canoun, remained silent amid the national outpouring of grief and outrage. But now, in an exclusive and explosive interview, she has come forward with a deeply personal account that challenges the heroic image many have built around Pretti. Her words have forced a painful reevaluation: “He can’t live like a villain and expect to be remembered as a victim.”
A Marriage Marked by Control and Violence
Rachel Canoun and Alex Pretti met in their mid-20s in Minneapolis, where both were pursuing careers in science and healthcare. They married in a small ceremony in 2018, drawn together by shared progressive values and a commitment to social justice. Pretti, who had transitioned from a research scientist to nursing, often spoke passionately about equity and human rights. To the outside world, they appeared as a model couple—activists, animal lovers, and community supporters.
Behind closed doors, however, Canoun describes a far darker reality. She alleges that Pretti’s behavior grew increasingly controlling and abusive over the years. “It started with small things—jealousy, monitoring my phone, isolating me from friends,” Canoun said in the interview. “But it escalated. He would scream at me for hours over nothing, throw things, and make me feel like I was walking on eggshells.”
The most devastating chapter came during a pregnancy in 2020. Canoun claims that an intense argument turned physical when Pretti shoved her against a wall in a fit of rage. “I fell hard,” she recounted, tears in her eyes. “The next day, I started bleeding. I lost the baby. The doctors said it was a miscarriage due to trauma. I never reported it—I was scared, ashamed, and I still loved him somehow.”
This incident, she says, was the beginning of the end. Pretti, according to Canoun, showed little remorse and instead blamed her for “provoking” him. The emotional toll was immense, leading to years of therapy for Canoun even after the divorce.
The Sudden Shift: Partying, Transition, and Divorce
After the miscarriage, Canoun describes Pretti undergoing a dramatic personal transformation. “He started going out every night—clubs, parties, drinking heavily. He was living a double life,” she said. “Then he told me he was questioning his gender identity. He said he wanted to ‘live authentically’ and transition.”
Canoun claims the announcement came amid escalating infidelity and emotional detachment. “He was already seeing other people, men and women. The transition talk felt like an excuse to leave me without taking responsibility for the pain he’d caused.” In late 2021, Pretti filed for divorce, citing irreconcilable differences. The process was bitter; Canoun says Pretti demanded she keep quiet about the abuse and miscarriage, threatening to ruin her reputation if she spoke out.
They finalized the divorce in 2022, more than two years before Pretti’s death. Canoun moved out of Minnesota shortly after, seeking distance and a fresh start. “I didn’t want to be part of his story anymore,” she explained. “But when I saw how the world was painting him as a saint after the shooting, I couldn’t stay silent. The truth matters.”
Reexamining the Public Image
Pretti’s family and friends have portrayed him as a kind-hearted nurse who cared deeply for veterans and fought for justice. His parents issued a statement calling the federal agents’ actions “reprehensible” and demanding accountability. Neighbors described him as quiet and warm. Even his ex-wife’s initial public comments to the Associated Press—before this deeper interview—were measured, noting his activism without criticism.
But Canoun’s revelations paint a more complex, troubling picture. She acknowledges Pretti’s political passion: “He was genuinely angry about injustice—George Floyd, immigration raids. That part was real.” Yet she insists his personal life contradicted the moral high ground he claimed publicly. “He could shout at police during protests, but he terrorized his own wife at home. That’s not heroism; that’s hypocrisy.”
The allegations of domestic violence and the miscarriage have not been independently verified or reported in court records, as the couple never pursued legal action. Canoun says she chose privacy to heal, but the national spotlight on Pretti’s death prompted her to speak. “I don’t want to destroy his legacy,” she said. “I just want people to see the full person—not the martyr version.”
Broader Implications in a Polarized Time
Pretti’s shooting has become a flashpoint in America’s culture wars. Supporters see him as a victim of overzealous federal enforcement under the Trump administration. Critics, amplified by some right-wing voices, have spread unverified claims (including doctored photos) to discredit him. Canoun’s account adds another layer: a reminder that public heroes can have private flaws.
Experts on domestic violence note that abusers often present as charming activists or professionals. “The disconnect between public persona and private behavior is common,” said Dr. Elena Ramirez, a psychologist specializing in trauma. “It doesn’t negate their activism, but it demands accountability.”
For Canoun, the interview is cathartic. “I endured years of pain. If sharing this helps even one person recognize abuse, it’s worth it.” She has no plans to pursue legal action now, focusing instead on her own recovery.
As investigations into Pretti’s death continue, the question lingers: Who was Alex Pretti really? A dedicated nurse and activist gunned down for standing up? Or a man whose personal demons cast a long shadow over his public virtue? Rachel Canoun’s words force us to confront that uncomfortable duality.
In the end, as she poignantly put it: “He can’t live like a villain and expect to be remembered as a victim.” The truth, like the man himself, may never be simple.
