At woman’s sentencing, the joyful memories and endless pain for a murdered teenage girl

De’Miaya Broome was run over by an SUV in downtown Minneapolis last summer. Latalia Margalli pleaded guilty to her murder and was sentenced on Tuesday.

The Minnesota Star Tribune
June 24, 2025 at 10:31PM
Juan and Andrea Broome, center, the parents of De'Miaya Broome, who was intentionally struck and killed by a vehicle driven by Latalia Margalli, speak after Margalli was sentenced to 24 years in prison Tuesday. With them were family members of other victims injured in the crash. (Jeff Day/The Minnesota Star Tribune)

De’Miaya Broome was born to a family so large her grandma couldn’t even count the grandkids. She was the youngest child in her immediate family but had 61 nieces and nephews. She was a little girl who loved animals and drawing and learned how to make her presence felt.

She was still just a girl —16 years old — when she was among a group of more than a dozen people who were targeted and run over by Latalia Margalli last September after a fight had broken out in downtown Minneapolis. Broome was killed. Others were injured.

Margalli, 23, was sentenced to 24 years in prison on Tuesday after she pleaded guilty to second-degree unintentional murder and several counts of assault.

The absence and memory of De’Miaya’s presence reverberated around the Hennepin County courtroom Tuesday morning. Her father, Juan Broome, recalled that after he would get into an argument with his wife he would sleep on the couch.

“Since she was 5 years old, [De’Miaya] would come with a pillow and a blanket,” Juan said.

De'Miaya Broome (With permission from GoFundMe)

His body briefly shuddered in the courtroom. He looked up at Judge Hilary Caligiuri, wiped his eyes and composed himself.

“It has been hard without my daughter,” he said.

De’Miaya’s grandmother, Larenda Faye Faulkner, said in her family they love to death. De’Miaya connected deeply with her. She would ask her grandma to sleep in her bed. “She was the pick of the crowd,” Faulkner said.

“She loved her grandparents. But I think she kind of picked me ... because she kicked my husband out of the bed.”

Laughter bounced around the court, which was filled with Broome’s family.

“He wouldn’t sleep with me,” Faulkner continued, “He said, ‘De’Miaya’s in the bed.’”

Latalia Anjolie Margalli (Hennepin County Jail)

Faulkner’s husband has since died and their bedroom is now filled with De’Miaya’s belongings. She said her grave, which she has already purchased next to her husband’s, is just a few steps from her granddaughter’s.

“I’m a true believer in the Lord,” Faulkner said. “We are only here for a short period of time. You might live to be 100, but when you’re gone it’s a short period of time. I just wish she could have been here a little longer.”

As several witnesses spoke about the impact of the loss of De’Miaya, Margalli alternated between emotional responses, then quietly observing with her tilted head resting on her hand.

In seeking the longest possible punishment under Minnesota sentencing guidelines, Senior Assistant Hennepin County Attorney Dan Allard said Margalli was heard in jail phone calls saying she just wanted to be famous and maybe write a book.

At that mention, Margalli began sobbing. She was heard telling her lawyer, “I didn’t say that.”

Allard said Margalli told a probation officer that she just wanted to scare the group of people by driving her vehicle toward them. Five additional victims suffered various injuries that led to assault charges. They included a 29-year-old woman, two 14-year-old girls and two men, ages 24 and 28.

The state asked Caligiuri to sentence to the maximum length allowed, 285 months.

Margalli’s lawyer, Assistant Hennepin County Public Defender Jesse Dong, said that when Margalli was a child both of her parents were incarcerated. She bounced around shelters and foster homes.

In a court filing, he said Catholic Charities had noted in her file there was “multiple substantiated physical abuse by mother and her mother’s partners.”

Na’Vayaiah Manciel of Minneapolis paints on the street at the memorial for her cousin De’Miaya Broome on Sept. 24, 2024, at Hennepin Avenue and North 5th Street in Minneapolis. (Aaron Lavinsky/The Minnesota Star Tribune)

Dong said Margalli was remorseful, but fearful.

As the case has moved through the courts over nine months, hearings have been tense between the two families.

Juan Broome said during his statement that Margalli’s mother had emailed him saying he needed to “check your resume about me” and that she was a killer.

Dong said that one of Margalli’s family members had been beaten up after the first omnibus hearing in the case and that Broome’s family made threats toward Margalli and her attorneys.

Judge Caligiuri tried to keep the room focused on the moment. She said this crime mixed with Margalli’s criminal history — which includes four assault charges that resulted in adult convictions or juvenile adjudications — made her a continued risk to the public.

Before she was sentenced, Margalli apologized to the families of her victims and said she knew there were “no amount words to undo what has been done.”

Caligiuri said it was mere happenstance that only Broome was killed as Margalli had driven into such a large crowd.

“The conduct here as well as your criminal history reflects a complete lack of self-control and no ability to regulate or control your anger,” Caliguri said. She gave Margalli the maximum sentence available.

For the Broome family, as well as the other victims and their families who live with trauma and survivor’s guilt, it was a just verdict, but one they were left wrestling with.

De’Miaya’s mother, Andrea Mitchell Broome, told the court that her daughter loved being a teenager. She was looking forward to her junior prom and helping her older friends plan graduation parties.

Andrea said she had been talking to and texting her daughter throughout the night she died. De’Miaya’s curfew was midnight. As it approached, her daughter stopped responding to messages.

“I felt in my heart something wasn’t right,” Andrea said. When she heard that her daughter was dead, “I then lost my mind.”

Andrea said she can’t shake the smile on her daughter’s face as she left that night to go to a game with her friends at Cooper High School.

“I have to live my life without my child, without my baby girl,” she said. “I question and ask God, ‘Why her?’”

She said she was not there for her daughter when she took her last breath. She can no longer tell her daughter how proud she is of her. Go on a store run with her. Listen to music in the car. She won’t see her graduate, or have kids or get married.

But her daughter remains at the heart of their family.

After the sentencing, Andrea stood next Juan. They said they have to reckon with the fact that their daughter would forgive the girl who killed her.

They are not there yet.

“Someday,” they said.

about the writer

about the writer

Jeff Day

Reporter

Jeff Day is a Hennepin County courts reporter. He previously worked as a sports reporter and editor.

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