His name was William Hitler.

As a young man he traveled to Germany, where his uncle had recently been named chancellor.

There, he tried to use his relative's status for personal gain but subsequently recognized Uncle Adolf's white supremacist policies for what they were: destructive and dangerous.

Later, Adolf Hitler's half-nephew — who won a Purple Heart after he fought against his uncle's German army and suffered a shrapnel wound as a member of the U.S. Navy in World War II — changed his name to William Stuart-Houston, in an attempt to erase the stench that his family surname will carry for ages.

"I have just left Germany and Adolf Hitler, who is my uncle I personally have no time for," he said after he'd entered the United States prior to the start of World War II. "I believe that Hitler's policy in Europe will not bring any benefit to the human race at all."

The initial fight against those who traffic in racism is often futile because they do not think about the future and only focus on how they feel today. Shiloh Hendrix — the woman who allegedly called a 5-year-old boy a racial slur at a park in Rochester, as seen in a video of the incident — has doubled-down on the vitriol she used against that child in a viral moment, which will soon make her wealthy.

When she was confronted by a man who challenged her at the park, she claimed the boy had gone through one of her bags, per the video. The child, according to social media responses, is autistic, though the Star Tribune could not independently confirm that.

"If he acts like one, then he's going to be called one," Hendrix said about her repeated use of the slur on the video.

She has now turned her hatred into a grift, through a Christian fundraising site. In a post titled "Help Protect My Family," citing harassment and threats following the viral incident, she has asked for $1 million to start a new life in a new town. She's taken this act directly from page 25 of the "How to Make Yourself the Victim after You Get Caught on Video Saying Some Racist Crap" handbook.

Like-minded supporters who signed onto her racist conduct at the park have already helped raise hundreds of thousands of dollars on her behalf. The campaign has gone from an original ask of $20,000 to a $1 million request. A new apartment in a new town is one thing. But hell, why not buy a mansion?

The response, rather than the public act of racism, is actually the most dangerous element of this story. I don't believe Hendrix arrived at the park and acted alone. Long before she ever spewed that slur against a child, she had been validated. That's the real battle here.

Who are the friends who backed her in group chats when she acted like this and used this language? Who are the people who raised her and made her believe she could use racial slurs against vulnerable children without repercussion? Who are the co-workers who laughed at her jokes when they crossed lines? Who are the romantic partners who, instead of holding her accountable, encouraged this behavior?

Hendrix — and others like her — have a team. They're guilty, too.

In the Mississippi of my father's childhood, the Ku Klux Klan burned crosses to broadcast their hate against Black people. But they also had folks who supplied them with the wood, the matches and the kerosene. And they were equally culpable. The people who've sponsored the worst of our communities always are.

I commend those who've stood up to Hendrix and her backers.

"Now she's fundraising on this, and that is just abhorrent and totally unacceptable," said Rochester NAACP president Walé Elegbede, who has called for an investigation. "She needs to face legal consequences for all her actions. This is a disgrace."

Added Sens. Liz Boldon and Reps. Andy Smith, Kim Hicks and Tina Liebling in a statement: "This disgusting rhetoric has no place in our community, and we're grateful that a bystander took action and prevented further escalation by the perpetrator."

In answer to the fundraising campaign for Hendrix, the Rochester NAACP launched a GoFundMe site Friday to help the boy's family with advocacy and legal redress. As of Saturday afternoon it had raised nearly $340,000, exceeding its goal of $250,000.

Hendrix and Company think they're right. Today, at least. The years ahead may change them, though.

While I am typically saddened when I meet an elderly person who lives alone, without regular contact from friends and family members, I also know there is sometimes another side to that despair. Some of the folks who governed their lives through hatred paid for their choices in their final years as those they loved abandoned them and decided to divorce themselves from a legacy of racism, sexism, homophobia or another instrument of hate that had been stitched into their family trees. They began to see the world through another lens and wanted no part of their parents' or grandparents' toxic traditions.

In the time that I needed to finish this column, Hendrix's fundraising campaign raised another $62,000. She might be rich by Monday. But she might also encounter an unimaginable scenario in the future.

Twenty-five years from now, she may go to a park with her grandson. Upon learning about his family, the other kids on the playground might ask him if he's related to a woman who went viral in Rochester for using a racial slur against a 5-year-old boy many years before.

"Sorry," he might say then, due to embarrassment and shame. "I don't know that name."