Crime survivors hold vigil for lost loved ones at Chula Vista park

Rickie Brown of City Heights lost her 19-year-old, 6-foot-6 son, Rance Brown to a shotgun blast in the chest, and she's never been the same.

His killer is out of prison now and free to meet with his family, she said, but she'll never see her son again. No one can fully understand that feeling except maybe her friends in the San Diego chapter of Crime Survivors for Safety and Justice.

"God has a purpose, and his purpose is the work we all do now," Brown said. "I know the work we do helps other mothers."

About a dozen chapter members gathered Saturday morning at their sixth annual survivors vigil in a grassy park beside the San Diego Bay near the J Street Marina in Chula Vista. They hugged and chatted, painted memorial rocks, burned some sage, blew soap bubbles, and each person said a few sentences about their lost loved ones. Afterward they ate lunch together.

Crime Survivors for Safety and Justice is a national organization with more than 180,000 members, according to the group's leaders. In addition to helping each other, the members promote policies to help people and communities hurt by crime and gun violence.

"I found healing and support in this group," said Karrie Gonzales of San Diego, who lost her 21-year-old son Erik Gonzales to fentanyl.

Her son played football in high school and was prescribed opiates for a sports injury, which led to a drug problem, she said. When he died he was an assistant manager at a pizza shop.

"It was not an overdose, it was poisoning," said Gonzales, who has her son's name and the dates of his "sunrise and sunset" tattooed on her neck. "He thought (the drug) was something else. It can happen to anyone."

Her grief has been unbearable, she said, and the support of the group has helped her survive.

Elizabeth Munoz and her husband, Juan Carlos Munoz, started the San Diego chapter after their only child, Juan Carlos Jr., was murdered eight years ago.

Carlos Jr. had just turned 18 and was a senior at Montgomery High School in San Diego. He was in "the wrong place at the wrong time," dropping off a friend, when he was shot by gang members, his dad said.

Parents who experience that kind of grief need help to get through it, Munoz said.

"The first year is just a big blur," he said. "You are confused and shocked. There's the funeral and all these things. The second year you can think a little better, but you're still in that bubble of grief."

Besides helping their fellow crime survivors, the group works for legislative change.

"We need more trauma recovery centers and mental health counseling," said Elizabeth Munoz, also more job protection with time off for medical appointments and bereavement, and tenant protections for people who rent.

Sometimes there's a shame or a stigma attached to the victims of violent crimes, and the group tries to stop that.

"You become a victim twice," said Maria Pitsenberger of Chula Vista. "The first time by losing your loved ones. Then you have to live through the trauma, you have to survive."

Pitsenberger's sister and her sister's son were both shot in the head by a relative in 2021, she said. Since then the survivors group has been an enormous comfort to her.

"I'm able to talk about it now without crying," she said. "That's how much it helped. They helped us with the burial, with counseling, sent flowers, sent food ... anything we needed."

More than half of U.S. states have passed legislation in recent years to increase the rights of crime survivors. The laws vary widely, but many provide survivors with financial help for things such as medical bills, relocation, funerals and other expenses.

Vigils were held Saturday in cities across the United States as part of National Crime Victims' Rights Week.

The 2024 Crime Survivors Speak March on Washington is planned for Sept. 23 and 24 in Washington D.C.

This story originally appeared in San Diego Union-Tribune .