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To the Rios Brothers of East Hollywood
As a part of the original Los Angeles, they are always and forever with us.
Across our neighborhood, when we say what’s up to someone, we do so with our heads raised in a nod, showing attentiveness to both the environment we’re in, as well as to who’s in front of us or who we’re in front of. We can say what’s up to anyone, but after a while, there are some people we say it to in a unique form: These are the members of our community, who we see ourselves in.
Over a smattering of days and nights this June, there is no counting just how many homies and family members in Los Angeles have exchanged this very version of “what’s up” in the wake of the shocking murder of Sergio Rios Jr., 33 years old, and Ricardo Rios, 19 years old, two brothers whose lives were taken on the first day of this month. I first met Sergio when I was 5 years old at Lockwood Elementary in East Hollywood, and since then was one of many people in our neighborhood able to call him a friend and chosen brother from this sliver of the city.
Both Sergio and Ricardo, the latter colloquially known as Ricky, were born and raised in a stretch of our neighborhood only three blocks east of Virgil avenue and Santa Monica boulevard on the Madison Block, where friendships and family ties can trace their origins going back at least three decades; the 1100 block of North Madison Avenue is also where Fernando “Belok” Puga–another friend who grew up with Sergio–was himself gunned down by a still-unknown assailant in March of 2020.
Since the news about the Rios brothers first broke, then, countless text messages have been exchanged by the many who knew and shared laughter with them, just as a myriad of previously unseen photos and untold Cuentos have been found again, including the one below of yours truly and other friends next to Sergio at the 7-11 on Virgil avenue and Santa Monica boulevard circa 2001.
The brothers’ deaths have cut deep not only across the neighborhood but across the city, and as a community journalist for almost ten years now, I’ve documented a considerable number of vigils in East Hollywood and neighborhoods like it, but even I’ve never seen anything like the days and nights of mourning shared by those connected to Sergio and Ricky these last four weeks. This is because our community’s tears for these brothers have also been accompanied by an unapologetic celebration of their legacies. In particular, I believe Sergio would be especially proud of how so many “old heads” have come together for condolences to his best friends and family, as well as to mobilize in making his and Ricky’s names seen and heard; as both a witness and participant in this process, if there’s one term that feels fitting for it, it’s the term movement.
But it didn’t begin as a movement. At first, even before our mourning, our community was simply stunned, in denial, and lost as to how such kind and family-oriented brothers could be stolen from us and their loved ones. But then, our immense gratitude for each memory the Rios brothers created with us led us to support each other in our grieving. Now, following their burial last Friday, June 21st, a community which has persisted since its humble beginnings in Los Angeles persists yet again, and in a wondrous fashion, each step taken, mile driven, shirt and tag printed in honor of the Rios brothers has made us both weaker and stronger than we’ve ever been, as though renewed.
Candlelights
The first gathering took place on June 4th, a candlelight vigil on the 1100 block of Browning Blvd in South Los Angeles, where the two brothers were slain only three days earlier. At least 150 people surrounded the scene of the crime, and as someone who photographed the candlelight vigil for Ermias Nipsey Hussle in 2019, I can say that the sorrow felt by those in attendance for Sergio and Ricky’s vigil was even more palpable.
Both Sergio Rios Sr. and Amalia Rios-Vela, the Rios brother’s parents, and their immediate and extended family, were in attendance. In particular, their father’s wailing gave form to the immense heartbreak which could be traced from one attendee’s sunken posture and teary eyelids to the next. In between their own sobbing, Sergio’s childhood friends, including life-long neighbor William Gavino, 34, and life-long mentor Tony Andres Cante, aka Big Tony, 41, wrapped their arms around Sergio and Ricky’s dad.
Through his own tears and frustration, Ivan Robles, Sergio and Ricky’s cousin on their mother’s side, spoke unflinchingly in both English and Spanish to members of the press on behalf of the Rios-Vela family. His words struck a great chord with me when, without hesitating, he said the Rios brothers were “a part of the original Los Angeles.”
Attendants of the vigil stayed until the evening, consisting of Sergio’s friends, many now in their 30s with kids of their own, as well as Ricky’s friends, many 19 and 20 year olds, who like Ricky graduated from high school just in the last few years. The result was at least two generations gathered to remember their boys into the night. They spoke highly of Ricky’s unmatched skating ability, as well as of Sergio’s encouragement of virtually everyone he came across. Sergio’s madman-like walking ability was also highlighted, sparking much appreciated chuckling among the crowd. Jackie “Sweets” Gomez, who first met Sergio in the 9th grade, spoke of how happy it made her to see him become a father over the last few years, and thanked everyone for coming out to honor him.
Benefit Jam
The second gathering was held on June 13th at The Edmon on Melrose boulevard, a 1920s art deco bar where Sergio was well-known from his years of working down the street at Osteria La Buca, to which he’d also invite friends and family over in his trademark communal spirit. Since Sergio loved to celebrate Los Angeles over Dodger games, barbecues, and nights out on the town at hip hangouts like The Edmon, the get-together for him and his brother was coordinated with deep respect for his soft-spoken but outgoing nature, which “lit up every room he was in,” as noted by his primo Ivan.
Hip hop music rocked in the background as life-long residents of Hollywood, East Hollywood, Echo Park, and more from the John Marshall High School classes of 2007 - 2009 showed up one after the other, also converging with those who worked with Sergio over the last decade. We raised glasses for him and his little brother, and proceeds from the Benefit Jam were donated to the Rios-Vela family fundraiser, which is ongoing and nearing its goal.
Tee after Tee after Tee
Among many passions inspired by hip hop music, Sergio also loved to screen-print shirts for himself and his homies, even going on to launch his own brand, No Squares Co. So by the night of the Benefit Jam, a bevy of friends and family were already donning tee shirts with the names of “Surge [and] Redo” at the center, the nicknames for Sergio and Ricky, respectively. The design was written magnum-sharpie style by Nsane, another childhood friend of the Madison Block, then screen-printed onto black tees, and sold on a sliding scale, with any proceeds provided to the family.
A few days later, Big Tony also put together a shirt design with “Sergio and Ricardo” in old English lettering on the front and back. He then teamed up with Gavino, and the two chose a light-brown color for the shirt since it was a color Sergio had a knack for keeping fresh. In total, they sold over 125 shirts and also forwarded proceeds to the family. A third shirt design would emerge at the next gathering, featuring both Sergio and Ricky’s portrait photos in addition to some special artwork.
Forest Lawn Drive: The Viewing
The first public viewing of the Rios brothers took place on June 20th, a week after the night at The Edmon, coinciding with the Summer Solstice, when the sun reaches its highest point for those of us on earth. So despite the somber purpose, it was a gorgeous set of hours to reunite again. A gallery of photos of the Rios brothers greeted attendees at the chapel for the viewing and was punctuated by an illustrated image of them drawn by their prima, Ana Vela, who herself plans to do more with the artwork right on Madison Block soon.
An array of homies sported the light brown shirts printed and distributed by Big Tony and Gavino, and once again, at least 150 of them must have made the journey to Forest Lawn Drive, northeast of the world-renowned Griffith Park. Attendees included many who couldn’t make the vigil or Benefit Jam because of work or family obligations, like CJ, who drove out from Las Vegas and was one of many faces who had finally been spotted among our crowd again after decades. The chapel was a full house during each hour of the viewing from 5 - 8 PM, and before its doors closed, a line stretched across the entrance and onto the patio. It was time to greet the Rios brothers for the first time since June 1st, for those who felt ready to.
Forest Lawn Drive: Across the Los Angeles River and Beyond
After almost three weeks of mourning, the day of the funeral was a surreal morning, one I could never have thought would ever come or go so soon. If not for the memory of the warmth on my back from the first full day of summer, the hours would almost seem like some “California Dream” of movies. The truth though, was that everyone present had come a long way since June 1st. And while I looked closely at my homies—who I was so damn proud of by then—my final gaze at the event was set on Sergio’s parents. From the candlelight vigil to the memorial, as well as each day and night in between on Madison Block, they had emitted nothing short of superhuman strength and bravery from their eyes and ears, which they gracefully credited to the community’s outpouring of support for them. Now, it was time to be nearly half as strong as them as we bid their boys farewell together.
Sergio Rios Sr. and Amalia Vela first met in 1984 in the state of Durango, Mexico, a neighbor-state to Sinaloa, where several of the First Families of Los Angeles came from in 1781 to establish the Pueblo. Sergio and Amalia reached East Hollywood from Durango in 1989, and the rest is Los Cuentos. As I watched the tears streaming from their eyes, I joined at least three decades’ worth of mourners in wishing the safest passage for Sergio and Ricky into infinity. A moment before it was time for burial, Sergio and Amalia were handed two doves, one in each of their hands. Each said a prayer before releasing them towards the endless sky, after which the Mariachi band accompanying us played “Amor Eterno.”
And while it didn’t dawn on me then, I remembered later how the English term for “Rios” is actually “Rivers,” and how growing up in this neighborhood, our community was always less than three miles west of the Los Angeles River. Now then, resting at Forest Lawn Drive, the Rios brothers have actually crossed on to the other side of the original lifeblood of our city before the concrete, the L.A. River, where they can watch over all the friends, family and movement they carried so well on their shoulders and gifted renewed life into. Over this summer and more, they are our brothers, always. The L.A. Rios Brothers of East Hollywood.
J.T.