'Shattered' forever: Family distraught over 8-year plea deal

Several years before he was killed, 47-year-old Josh Fisher moved home with his mother and brother to help care for them in their apartment on Seventh Street.

His mother was largely bedridden and needed a lot of assistance. His brother was struggling with mental health challenges and also needed support.

"He made sure she was hydrated and eating when she was supposed to," Fisher's daughter, Imani, told The Scanner in a recent interview. "He would help her go to the kitchen, make her coffee."

"Whenever anybody asked or called for help, my dad was always there," she said.

Last week, Fisher's killer appeared in court to be sentenced to eight years in prison after the murder case was pled down to manslaughter.

Due to the time he's already served, he'll be free in about three years.

A 14-time felon with 10 separate prison stints already, Claudell Moore (also Claudel) elected not to address the court or Fisher's family during the hearing.

Family members told The Scanner they were heartbroken over the outcome of the case — which had substantial circumstantial evidence but no smoking gun.

"Told him to hang in there, somebody is coming"

On March 4, 2022, just before the shooting, Moore knocked on Fisher's door looking for him, as he had done several times already in the weeks leading up to that moment, according to court records.

There were some indications that Fisher owed Moore a little money.

Fisher wasn't home, so Moore, then 62, left with the woman he'd come with. A short time later, a single gunshot rang out from the street.

Neighbors said they rushed to their windows to see a man and woman get into a "distinct vintage" Cadillac and flee.

At least one person said the man had been holding a gun.

Fisher was on the ground, bleeding from a head wound. His younger brother gave him CPR until police arrived.

"He was alert. His eyes were just moving around," the younger man testified at a hearing last year. "Told him to hang in there, somebody is coming."

Anthony Joshua Fisher III, known to most as Josh, was placed on life support at Highland Hospital. He was pronounced dead four days later.

Police never found the gun but, according to court records, they did locate an empty holster and a bag of ammunition when they arrested Moore and his female associate the same day Fisher died.

They were holed up at a motel in Pinole.

The woman, who said she was Moore's girlfriend, was never charged. But police noted in court papers that she "showed no concern … that Fisher had been shot" and changed her story multiple times during the police interview.

At this point, authorities say her whereabouts are unknown.

In addition to witness IDs, Moore's cellphone data put him in the area at the time of the shooting, according to court papers.

Police found his distinctive blue Cadillac hidden under a tarp in Richmond.

But there were also gaps in the case.

No bullet was found at the scene, which limited ballistic evidence.

Surveillance cameras captured Fisher walking south on Seventh Street just before the shooting but there was no footage of the killing itself.

A potentially incriminating statement made by Moore got tossed on a Miranda violation.

Witnesses who originally agreed to testify pulled out.

"It was just very confusing and very complicated," Imani said, with one hearing after another. "It all just crumbled and fell apart."

"What did he do to deserve that?"

Four years after the shooting, the family's grief is still sharp.

"I wanted him to pay for it," said Monique Fisher, Josh's older sister, after last week's hearing. "It's so hard not to wish bad on somebody who violently took somebody who didn't deserve it at all."

The night of the shooting, her mother and brother were in their living room wondering when Fisher would be home.

When he was close, he would whistle so his brother could throw down the key.

Instead of the whistle, they suddenly heard a loud pop. Her brother thought it was a car backfiring, a common sound on busy Seventh Street.

Her mother started screaming.

"What was that?" she cried. "Where's Josh?"

After her brother saw Fisher in the street from their balcony, he ran outside. Her mother called Monique.

"She said someone shot Josh in the head. I lost it," said Monique. She rushed to Highland Hospital. "I beat the ambulance there."

She remembers being in the hospital room, holding her brother and talking to him. For awhile, she was the only one there.

"I miss him," she said. "What did he do to deserve that?"

Monique described her brother as a "gentle giant," never violent, a family man and father of two who loved cooking and making music.

Before he died, Fisher had just invested in new equipment and was busy producing beats for local artists. He loved fishing and camping — and he loved being from the Bay.

When Monique moved into her house, it was Josh, and only Josh, who helped her move.

Last week, after the sentencing hearing, one cousin recalled how she would sometimes get home late from work to find Fisher in the kitchen, cooking so she didn't have to.

"He was not a perfect man but he didn't deserve to die," Monique said.

Monique said she and her brothers had a happy childhood. All three kids were born at Kaiser hospital in Santa Clara. They grew up in Milpitas and Hayward.

"We were raised by two parents," she said. "We had a good family."

Their mother — a Berkeley native — went into the hospital a month after the fatal shooting. Due to ongoing health challenges, she never left.

Monique said one of her favorite family memories was when her brother put oysters on the grill and barbecued them for her son's 16th birthday.

Fisher loved to cook all types of meat and was especially known for his steak.

"Everybody would ask my dad to be on the grill. He was the grill master of the family," said Imani, 28. "Any chance we got to cook together, we did."

Growing up, even after her parents separated and she lived farther away, her dad would attend her big school events and competitions, even though he didn't always have a car and transportation wasn't easy.

After she moved out of state, he repeatedly overcame his acute fear of airplanes to visit her, especially to spend time with his only grandson.

"He was so obsessed with him," Imani said. "He'd call him 'papa's baby' all day long. He loved being a grandpa."

Imani said her father had been determined to be part of as many milestones with his grandson as possible, especially because he hadn't always been there for hers.

One thing he wanted most was to teach his grandson, who is now 8, how to ride a bike. The little boy was just 3 when Fisher was killed.

"He never got the chance to do that," Imani said.

Killer has "a long criminal history"

According to court papers, Moore was already on probation from a case in Monterey at the time of the fatal Berkeley shooting, unemployed and on workers' comp due to a back injury in 2019.

He had limited employment history, according to court papers, because he "had spent the majority of his life in detention."

Moore had a "relatively stable upbringing," growing up with six siblings and both parents in Los Angeles, with "no reports of abuse, substance misuse, or mental illness in his family."

He "was first committed to the California Youth Authority at the age of 16 for petty theft, marking the beginning of a long criminal history," a probation officer wrote.

Past convictions, across six California counties, include robbery, escape from prison, possession of controlled substances for sale, battery and burglary.

"He has faced numerous extended jail sentences, probation opportunities, prison sentences, and periods of parole and post-release community supervision, yet he continues to reoffend," the officer wrote. "The nature and severity of his current offense raise significant concerns about his ability to live lawfully and to avoid victimizing others in the future."

In the end, however, the probation officer said he supported the negotiated plea deal, writing, "It is hoped that this sentence will deter the defendant from engaging in further criminal behavior."

Fisher's family members said they wished prosecutors had fought harder for him.

Now, they are finding their own ways to keep his memory alive.

Sister Monique said it's still too painful to do much on anniversaries.

"I just have my own personal conversations, telling him how much I miss him," she said. "It hurts so bad. That's never going to change."

Daughter Imani has channeled her grief into action, developing a clothing line named after her father, Zaki Official Streetwear, and organizing annual events to honor his legacy.

At least week's hearing, she read a handwritten statement to the court about how her father's death had affected his loved ones.

When deputies finally brought Moore into the courtroom, after an hours-long wait, the family tensed up.

Monique began crying immediately. Imani started to shake and hyperventilate.

She tried to soothe herself, humming and shaking her leg to counter the terror she felt, as her mother rubbed her back.

Then the judge called on her to speak.

"I was able to look at him in the face and tell him exactly how I felt," she said. "It shattered our family forever."

Throughout her statement, Moore kept his eyes on the ground. To Imani, it felt like something only a coward would do.

"That was kind of — my closure," she said. "As much closure as I'm going to get."