But Kaleka accepted, and he's grateful he did. Since then, the grieving son and repentant racist have formed an unlikely alliance, teaming up to preach a message of peace throughout Milwaukee, the largest city in Midwestern Wisconsin state.
In fact, they've grown so close that they got matching tattoos on their palms - the numbers 8-5-12, the date the gunman opened fire at a Milwaukee-area Sikh temple before killing himself minutes later.
But he also saw the good work Michaelis has done since he quit the racist movement in the mid-1990s. Kaleka, 37, wanted his father's death to be a catalyst for peace, and he saw in Michaelis a partner whose story could reinforce the message that it's possible to turn hate into love.
Michaelis had written a book called "My Life After Hate," in which he describes how he lashed out at the world starting in kindergarten and how the birth of his daughter made him realize he needed to change. He also works with kids on community service projects.
Kaleka still has lingering fears that Michaelis might relapse and return to his old ways. But as he's gotten to know Michaelis, he says the boulder of doubt has become a pebble. Michaelis, an information technology consultant, understands the skepticism. He knows he hurt so many people during his seven years in the white-supremacy movement that his sincerity will always be questioned, which is why he works even harder to regain people's trust.
Invariably, the children are riveted, Kaleka said. Afterward several will come up and ask how they can get involved.
Kaleka and Michaelis look nothing alike. Kaleka is a clean-cut Indian who teaches high school social studies. Michaelis, who's white, has both arms covered in tattoos that mask earlier racist messages. But as they sat together in the temple recently, just down the hallway from the bedroom where Kaleka's father was shot, they seemed like brothers, insulting each other good-naturedly and arguing over who was more handsome.
