
Westside voters, once strongly against Sunset Dunes park, flipped to save it
By Marcus Chen
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Dozens of people gathered Monday night at a Mission District skate park to mourn and remember Rolando Jose Dusuau , or “RJ,” the 17-year-old who was shot and killed last month less than a mile from his home. In synchronized fashion, Aztec dancers in beaded and embroidered dresses began the vigil at Potrero Del Sol Park, which is a short walk from the Mission District apartment building that RJ, his mother and his two younger brothers called home. As the sun fell, the dancers waltzed to the beat of a live wooden drum around a candle-lit altar that stood in the center of an outdoor stage. It featured a painted portrait of RJ surrounded by a 49ers stuffed bear from his childhood, framed photos of RJ as an infant and teenager, fun-sized Sour Patch Kids candy (one of his favorites) and baby’s breath and marigold flowers. The altar also included a large order of McDonald’s fries and a McDouble, a meal his mother, Christina Onopa, said RJ always nagged her for. Absent was the large Sprite that usually came with it. RJ was killed on Oct. 16 near the Potrero Hill Terrace and Annex, a public housing complex, minutes after leaving his home that night. He died from gunshot wounds at the scene. Police have arrested a male teenage suspect, but have not released the suspect’s name or disclosed his relationship to RJ. RJ was a teenage boy “beyond his years,” said his aunt Monica Onopa, who was known as Tia Mo to her nephew. “He had gone through a lot.” RJ’s father died of suicide when the boy was 14 years old, a death that rocked the family. Something like that “hits, especially a young kid, really hard,” said his aunt. But despite the “depression,” “internal troubles” and “just stress” visited on a child faced with early loss, RJ “was able to put that aside to help all these other kids,” his aunt said, referring to her nephew’s plans to become a youth counselor. RJ, who was a senior at George Washington High School in the Richmond, was well on his way and undergoing training at Horizons, a San Francisco nonprofit for at-risk Latino youth and other youth of color. His willingness to help others had become apparent to his mother recently — she said friends always tell her “that he helped them through their hard times.” “Seeing him be a CIT [counseler-in-training] — that was all coming out and he was gonna be a great counselor,” she said. It was a more recent aspiration — when he was younger, RJ loved dinosaurs, his mother remembered. “He always told me he wanted to be a paleontologist. And to others who came across him, RJ was a shy boy who largely kept to himself. Those lucky enough to get close to him saw more, however. “Once you got to know him,” his mother said, there was “his silly side, his funny side — and he was always ready with a joke, like always.” Briana Boteo, who worked closely with RJ as his case manager at Sunset Youth Services, felt the same. “When he got comfortable with you, you could just tell based off of his body language.” Priscilla Beltran was a lifelong family friend to RJ — the two were the same age, and grew up close to each other. She said RJ’s kind-hearted traits did not change much over the years: “He was always inclusive, especially with me,” she said about spending time together as children. “He always made sure that I was okay even if we didn’t talk as much … He always made sure I was included in anything and everything.” Boteo, for her part, said from what she saw of RJ, he was invested in his future even at a young age. “He was really focused and committed to doing better in his life. He turned his life around completely and was really just trying to do good by him, by his family.”