My name is Andres Julian Chavez, and I was murdered on September 18, 2023. The day started like any other, with sunlight filtering through my window, casting familiar shadows on the walls of my room. I finished my morning routine, packed my backpack, and headed outside, ready to embrace another day filled with gaming, laughter, and dreams of serving my country after graduation.
I was a gamer at heart, immersed in virtual worlds where anything was possible. I spent countless hours with friends, strategizing and competing, but my love for gaming was always balanced by my devotion to family. Movie nights on Fridays, cooking with my mom on weekends, and the discussions at dinner about life and the future were all integral parts of who I was. My heart swelled with pride at the thought of wearing that Army uniform one day, of serving a cause greater than myself.
But that dream was cut short in an instant.
On that fateful September day, everything shattered. I was shot five times in my own front yard. I ran indoors, frantically dragging myself to my mom, my heart pounding in my chest, each beat a reminder of the fragility of life. She held me—my fierce protector. I remember her voice cracking as she begged me to stay with her, to hold on. But those desperate pleas faded into silence, and the warmth we shared was replaced by an unbearable chill. My last vision was of her, tears streaming down her face, and despite my fading consciousness, I wanted to comfort her. I wanted to tell her it would be okay.
Yet, it wasn’t okay.
In the chaos that followed, I learned that the person responsible for my death was a minor, a fact that left my family and me feeling more powerless than ever. In California, the laws surrounding juvenile crime often feel like a sanctuary for the guilty, a safety net that offers little justice to the victims. My murderer would face no real consequence for stealing my life and my dreams. Just a gentle reprimand, a slap on the wrist.
“Accountability is needed,” I whispered, though no one could hear me. It rang through my family’s grieving heart, a desperate plea for change.
Now, my mother is fighting for justice not just for me, but for others like me. She is working tirelessly to gather signatures for a petition aimed at reforming the laws, at ensuring that every violent act, regardless of the age of the perpetrator, is met with the seriousness it deserves.
We take one day at a time. Some days feel heavier than others, the weight of my absence palpable in every corner of our home. Yet, I know my family seeks to honor my memory by standing against the wrongs that claimed my life. They’re trying to be a voice for the voiceless, to push against the system that failed us.
As you read this, I ask you to remember who I was. I wasn’t just another statistic, another tragedy in the news cycle. I was Andres, a young man with aspirations and a heart full of dreams. I loved to game, to make my family laugh, and to plan for a future that was taken from me too soon.
So, as my family continues to grieve, they invite you to join them. Sign the petition. Share our story. Help them fight not just for my memory, but for a future where every life is valued, and every violent act is met with the necessary consequences.
In gaming, we always talk about leveling up, about perseverance through challenges. This is their quest now—a journey through grief to change a broken system.
Thank you for taking the time to know me and for being part of this fight. Though I am no longer here, my spirit lives on through those who loved me and through those who will continue to advocate for a world where justice exists for all.
You can scan that code with your camera and it will take you to the website to sign the petition.