Survivors:
Youth ALIVE! client stories
Oakland, 2012 to 2023
by James O'Brien
After six years covering the aftermath of violence in Oakland in San Francisco Magazine and on my personal blog, I joined the staff at Youth ALIVE! (YA), Oakland’s primary community-based violence prevention agency with programs for hospital-based violence intervention, school-based youth violence prevention, as well as programs to help victims and survivors of the killed heal their trauma. I had already written some client stories as a volunteer when, in 2015, I became YA’s senior writer in charge of grants and reports, which I enjoyed.
But the best part of my job was helping Oaklanders who had been affected by violence tell their stories, some of whom were my co-workers. When victims were emotionally ready, they often found that getting their story out into the world felt good and contributed to their healing. Sometimes I wrote the stories in the client’s voice; sometimes as letters to the Youth ALIVE! staff member they’d worked with. And sometimes I wrote the stories in the third person.
Here are some of those stories and letters. They come from both teens and adult. The teens were growing up in Oakland neighborhoods where violence was common and had been for half a century. Some of the young people had been shot themselves. Some had lost loved ones to gun violence. Among the adults were gunshot victims, mothers who lost their sons, husbands who had lost wives. They were generous in their sharing of their stories. And invariably they were courageous people working hard to heal themselves and, in some cases, to help heal their city. It was a privilege to work with them.
Third-person stories
Caheri's Story: Caheri was shot in the face when she was 18
In November of 2008, at the Oakland, California, intersection of 98th Avenue and San Leandro Street, under the New Code of the West, which in no way prohibits or even frowns upon the shooting of unarmed people or women or children, or shooting someone in the back, or shooting a person and then running or driving away, Caheri Gutierrez had half her beautiful face blown off in a drive-by. She was 18.
The bullet burst through the passenger-side window out of nowhere. It ripped through her jaw and cheek and stopped in the right arm of her friend driving the car. Gutierrez felt a shock, she says, but didn’t know she’d been hit until she saw the driver’s expression — he was looking at her — and the gory mess all over the dashboard. That’s when she reached up to touch her face.
Read the full story at youthalive.org: I Might Have Some Hope Here; Also by James O’Brien, on Caheri’s life and recovery, read No Escape, No Surrender, from San Francsico Magazine; also by James O’Brien, read this Amazon Kindle Single, Until You Bleed: the Caheri Gutierrez Story.
Jean’s Story: Jean served in Afghanistan without getting wounded, came home to Oakland, and got shot
Charlie’s Story: Charlie was 15 and just out of juvenile hall
There’s a lesson in Charlie Jones’s success. At least his success so far; Charlie’s only 15, a client in Youth ALIVE’s Pathways program.
Last summer, Charlie spent some time in Juvenile Hall. He came home to life with his mom and sisters, to the neighborhood they call The Twenties, and other, more savage names that indicate all the blood that’s been shed on those blocks. On his release, he was referred to Youth ALIVE!’s Pathways program by his probation officer. Pathways intervention specialists take under their watchful wings young people transitioning out of incarceration. The client and the specialist spend time getting to know each other, figuring out what the young person needs to be successful in school, safe in life, and permanently free from the justice system.
By the time we met Charlie, he already knew what he wanted to do: play football. So we introduced him to Pathway’s Tino Ratliff, former NCAA wide receiver and, like the 6’2” Charlie, a tall person. Of course, those aren’t the only things Tino has going for him. More likely it’s his general positivity and good nature, along with his doggedness, that have helped spur Charlie on to good attendance, good grades and an outstanding year with Oakland High’s Junior Varsity football team.
Like a lot of 15-year-olds, Charlie’s a reluctant talker, but then suddenly he’ll take a breath and tell you something interesting and light up a little. He says his favorite class is English, that he likes writing essays, especially on things he knows about, like sports. He favorite books are about people who changed their lives. Charlie’s in the process of doing that right now.
And there are lessons to learn for all of us, like have a dream, a goal you really care about. “Football really motivates me,” says Charlie. Another lesson: we all need some help in life. And not just when we are growing up. But perhaps especially then. For Charlie, help comes from his mom, his sister, from teachers who care, and from Tino.
“I can actually open up to Tino,” he says, “tell him stuff.” But Tino is more than an ear for Charlie. “Tino talked to me about what’s right, what’s the right thing to do. I listened and did it.” Still, Charlie’s biggest motivation is football.
“Being an athlete and a student keeps me busy and off the streets,” he says one morning sitting on a bench overlooking Oakland High’s playing field. “I want to be great.” Charlie says he is a leader. His leadership style is to push others, but not in a negative way. “If a guy messes up,” says Charlie, “don’t tell him how bad he did, but lift him up, bring them up.”
Charlie says his mom is proud of what he’s doing, but that she sees more potential. She thinks he should get higher grades.
While we are outside talking, a man passes by the bench and interrupts us. It’s Charlie’s PE teacher. He says a warm hello to Charlie and then, spontaneously, starts talking about how much Charlie has done to turn things around. “Charlie is really doing some good stuff,” he says. He’s not just talking about touchdowns and interceptions.
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Client letters to staff
Letter from DeAndre: DeAndre’s wife was killed in Oakland in front of their children
Dear John,
Do you remember when you saw a picture of Chyemil? You said her smile was beautiful and warm. I couldn’t describe her better. Chyemil was beautiful and warm. She embraced people. We met at work. I flirted with her for two years but she didn’t notice. We were just friends. We went our separate ways. I married someone else. Chyemil had babies with someone else. And yet, there we were, in 2015, finally together. Happy. With her great kids, with a son of our own, living in the house where she grew up, in West Oakland, saving money to buy a house away from Oakland.
I was down in Huntington Beach for work. I suggested she fly down to meet me. A little getaway. The kids stayed with her sister in Sacramento. We had the best weekend down there. Beach. Restaurants. Relaxation. We got home late Sunday night and drove to Sac to get the kids.
The next day, she picked up the older kids early from school and was stopping by the house, before getting the baby from his daycare down the street. She parked the car. They got out. Some neighbors were out on the street. Some women, arguing. Soon some men showed up. Then the guns. It went like this: fistfight, gunfight, 2 stray bullets. Chyemil was shot in the back of her head. And in the neck. The children were there, in front of the house, their mom on the sidewalk bleeding, not moving. They tell me she died instantly.
The days after were chaos, a mix of pain, fear and confusion. How do I live? How do I continue? All of my thought processes were unclear. I really needed a professional to talk to. I was referred to a guy named John Torres, Youth Alive’s Deputy Director, and a counselor there as well. That was you, and I think what was important was that you understood this kind of violent loss, and the trauma. Because something like this, it constantly revisits you. I needed somebody to talk to, and Youth Alive was there to help. You helped me see that living my life didn’t mean leaving Chyemil behind. You helped prepare me to prepare our son for life without his mom.
It’s only been under 4 years since Chyemil was killed. I’m doing okay but there are things that hurt my heart still. The children were Chyemil’s joy. She was an outstanding mom, unselfish, loving and happy. Today, the older kids are doing well. They live with Chyemil’s sister in Sacramento and I see them regularly. Our son Cairo is with me. He was only one when it happened, but his mom is always on his mind. Sometimes, when I leave for a business trip he asks me if I will be on an airplane. When I say yes, he thinks I will be closer to heaven. He says, “Tell Mommy Hi and that I miss her.” I don’t think he understands yet the permanence. I definitely do. But you helped me remember that life can still continue. To this day, things you said still resonate. Those meetings with you gave me the courage to keep going.
Thank you,
D’Andre
Letter from Ultra: Ultra’s son was killed in Oakland when he was 21
Dear Marilyn,
A long time ago, when he was 19, my son Darnell got arrested for selling weed. He ended up in the county jail in Santa Rita. When I saw him there…he cried like a baby. He said, “I’m not gonna do this anymore, Mom. Get me out of here.” He was not one of those kids who pretends jail doesn’t affect him.
But I always came to his rescue. I’m always doing things to make sure he’s okay. I was.
I tried to protect him from Oakland. We moved to Suisun. But Oakland is our home. We came back.
One Saturday morning I was in a meeting at work and my phone kept going off. It was my daughter, then her cousin, then a family friend. It was annoying. They knew I was at work. When the meeting was over, I called my daughter back.
That morning, at 6 a.m. -- it was in November and still dark out when it happened -- in front of a store on 79th, my son Darnell was shot once in the head and killed. Some people tell me a lady near where he got shot heard him say, ‘Somebody help me.’
That’s all I know that my son said. He didn’t have a gun, but he did call for help.
I was in disbelief, but disbelief doesn’t protect you. Nothing can explain the emptiness. It is worse than pain. And the loneliness. It’s a place no one can go to with you. Except Youth Alive. Youth Alive showed up.
It was a Saturday and the coroners was closed. That weekend you called me from home and said you were with a program at Youth ALIVE! named after your own son. You told me how Khadafy was killed on a Friday and the coroners was closed the day you found out.
You entered my life in the darkest moment and showed me I was not alone. You became my guide. My eyes and my ears through those desperate days. You helped me apply for funds from the county to pay for a funeral. You knew how to get my son’s body from the coroner to the funeral home. You even met me at the funeral home to help me plan. You brought me things I needed. You accompanied me through the darkness.