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Instead, Bro has used the death of 32-year-old Heather Heyer as a call to remember not just her daughter but all the people who were injured and died during and after the 鈥淯nite the Right鈥� rally in Charlottesville, Virginia on August 11 and 12, 2017.

鈥淧lease remember not to think only of Heather, but why she was here,鈥� Bro said Sunday, on the anniversary of her daughter鈥檚 death. 鈥淪he was for equality. The Golden Rule still applies.鈥�

Bro placed a bouquet of flowers near the spot where Heyer died. She also placed two roses for a pair of Virginia State Troopers 鈥� Berke Bates and Jay Cullen 鈥� who died when the helicopter they were using to monitor the rally crashed that afternoon.

鈥淚 can鈥檛 forget about them,鈥� Bro said. 鈥淚鈥檓 really grateful for those troopers.鈥�

Heyer鈥檚 death has become the very public symbol of what went wrong during 鈥淯nite the Right鈥� a year ago today. White supremacists, neo-Nazis and their sympathizers overran downtown Charlottesville. Heyer, standing with a group of counter-protesters at the bottom of a hill on 4th Street, died after being hit by a car driven into the crowd. A 21-year-old Ohio man stands charged with murder and federal hate crimes stemming from the incident.

As a reminder of just how badly things went in 2017, police in helmets with shields and bulletproof vests encircled downtown, restricting access to two entrances all weekend where bags were searched and anything that could be used as a weapon was confiscated after Virginia Gov. Ralph Northam declared a state of emergency in advance of the anniversary weekend.

The spot where the car struck Heyer at 1:42 p.m. that day has become a public shrine and a place for people to express grief and sorrow and to leave a vow to never let another day like that happen again. Multicolored chalk messages such as 鈥淕one but not forgotten,鈥� 鈥淟ove from Portland,鈥� and "Honoring you today Heather xoxo鈥� create a rainbow of words and thoughts about what happened.

That鈥檚 where Bro stood, surrounded by Black Lives Matter activists, television cameras and the just curious.

When a Black Lives Matter activist called for others to raise their hands to block the view of television cameras, Bro put a stop to the visual blockade.

鈥淚鈥檓 okay,鈥� she said. 鈥淵ou can put your hands down.鈥�

What Bro had to say she wanted heard by as many as possible.

Her voice occasionally cracking, Bro talked about Heyer and her efforts to oppose the racists who last year invaded the city of 48,000, which is tucked into the Blue Ridge Mountains. She asked the public to help those still injured and suffering after last year鈥檚 rally. She asked people to help others 鈥� something that happened on a small scale as she spoke. Activists were handing out free bottles of water to people at the memorial dealing with temperatures in the mid-80s and humidity over 80 percent.

At times, Bro looked the part of a grieving mother who outlived her daughter, her voice fading in and out as she occasionally leaned on a friend. In other moments, she was a woman determined not to let her daughter鈥檚 death 鈥� and the sacrifices of others that day 鈥� be forgotten.

Taking a cellphone from a friend, Bro played Wiz Khalifa鈥檚 song 鈥淪ee You Again鈥� 鈥� a favorite of Heyer鈥檚 鈥� as parts of the crowd sang along, although she skipped the parts where Khalifa rapped.

鈥淵ou don鈥檛 want to hear me rap,鈥� Bro laughed to the crowd.

Bro returned to the two slain troopers, thanking them for catching Fields on video and helping capture Fields shortly after Heyer鈥檚 death.

鈥淭hey got the footage that helped track him down,鈥� Bro said. 鈥淗e was going to make his way to the highway and be gone.鈥�

When she was done talking after more than 10 minutes, Bro didn鈥檛 fade from the memorial. Instead, she chatted with well-wishers, exchanged hugs with dozens of people and thanked friends for their efforts.

Before leaving, Bro looked around and told friends she would be back next year but hoped it would be less of an occasion. She hoped the people her daughter opposed would be less significant by then.