San Jose Shooting Vigil For Victims Seeks Healing, Action

SAN JOSE, CA — Family members expressed inconsolable grief, faith leaders sent a message of healing, union leaders demanded action and politicians pledged to create meaningful change.

Thirty-six hours after the deadliest mass shooting in Bay Area history, hundreds of people gathered at San Jose City Hall Thursday evening at a vigil to mourn and honor the nine Santa Clara County Valley Transportation Authority employees who were killed while they were just starting another day’s work at a rail yard.

The nation’s news cycle may have moved on after another senseless tragedy, but the grieving process has just begun for the victims’ families.

San Jose is a city of more than 1 million residents that for years has ranked as one of the safest in the country. It is known for being the hub of the South Bay, filled with tech offices and surrounded by the sunny suburbs that make up Silicon Valley. It is home to the San Jose Sharks and the San Jose Earthquakes, beloved professional teams with passionate fan bases. Just 48 hours earlier, city leaders celebrated a landmark agreement with Google to build an 80-acre megacampus in San Jose, the largest development deal in city history.

But Silicon Valley’s hub was brought to its knees by the shooting.

“Everyone’s heart is broken,” said U.S. Rep. Anna Eshoo (D-CA), whose district includes San Jose. “We’re wallowing in grief. We’re frustrated. We’re angry. We can’t sleep thinking about the families whose loved ones didn’t come home from work.”

Paul Delacruz Megia didn’t come home from work. On Wednesday morning, Megia, along with colleagues Taptejdeep Singh and Adrian Balleza, were in the break room of the VTA Light Rail Facility when they heard gunfire. Instead of hunkering down, they ran out of the room and lost their lives as they tried to warn their co-workers.

Megia, 42, had two children and a stepson and was a second-generation VTA employee. He was introduced to VTA in 2004 by his father, Leonard Megia — who worked there for 32 years — as a way to pay for college through a part-time job. Paul worked the 64 bus route, and Leonard worked the 25 bus route. Their routes would overlap at the intersection of Willow and Lincoln Streets in San Jose, and they would wave to each other.

Paul Megia was laid off after six months. But in 2012, he returned to VTA, eventually working his way up to assistant superintendent. His father still worked the bus route, and Paul Megia would be on the light rail. They would see each other regularly and wave to each other again. For Leonard Megia, it was “happy times.”

“But yesterday was the saddest moment of my life,” Leonard Megia said.

The Megia family was supposed to leave Thursday for a Disneyland trip. Instead, they placed flowers under a poster with the shooting victims’ names and faces. Relatives wailed, “We love you, Paul,” “I know you love me, too,” and “Wherever you are, we’re here for you always,” as they held up Paul’s picture, consoled a daughter far too young to be losing a father, and appeared oblivious to the crush of TV cameras around them.

Around the country Wednesday, family members received frantic calls after the shooting. Karman Singh, the brother of Taptejdeep Singh, was in Maryland. After calling a cousin who also worked at VTA, Carman Singh was assured at first that everybody had gotten out safely and that only a few people were hurt.

But inside, Carman felt something was off. His brother, a father of two, wouldn’t leave a text unanswered.

“His first reaction was to tell other people, ‘Hey, run to safety,’” Karman Singh said. “Figure out what he can do to make sure his colleagues were safe — and that’s who he was. That’s how he lived his whole life, helping others, whoever he met.”

Karman Singh — who is six years younger than Taptejdeep Singh, 36 — would tease his brother about not going to the gym. Taptejdeep responded, “Your muscles don’t matter. What you need is a lion’s heart.”

“And that’s what my brother had,” Karman Singh said.

To Timothy Romo's three children, he was a superhero. Romo spent more than 20 years as an overhead line worker, and his son Scott Romo called his father daily for help with things such as fixing his car.

"To me, he was my hero, my idol, everything that I wanted to be," Scott Romo said. "He led by example in everything he did. He was my superman."

Timothy Romo would ask Audrey Romo, his only daughter, "Who's my favorite little girl?" She would always respond, "I'm your only little girl."

"He was the funniest man I've ever known," Audrey Romo said. "I’m going to miss him every day."

Officials promised to make sure that the victims won't have died in vain.

“I want to send a message that we have to honor our brothers today and not forget what has happened here and not let this happen again,” said John Costa, the international president of Amalgamated Transit Union, which represents many of VTA’s workers. “We can’t sweep this under the rug.”

San Jose’s elected officials agreed.

“We can’t heal over the part that’s most broken,” said state Sen. Dave Cortese (D), who represents San Jose. “We need to go to the part that’s most broken and fix it, and that’s on me, and that’s on all the people that are standing behind me, and we’re going to get it done.”

Rep. Zoe Lofgren (D-CA), who has represented San Jose in Congress since 1995, said it would be wrong to “only offer thoughts and prayers.”

“We need to recommit to action to end the epidemic of gun violence in our country,” Lofgren said.

Lofgren urged the community to unite in its commitment to diversity and to prioritize togetherness over division, hope over fear and progress over violence.

“While tonight we cherish the moments of those lost, and we comfort the families left to grieve, we have to say, 'Enough,'” Lofgren said. “We don’t have to be the only country on Earth where mass shootings are a near daily occurrence. We owe change to those that we grieve for this evening. Let’s do it together.”

After the vigil ended, community members added more flowers, posters and pictures to a makeshift memorial on a platform next to the sidewalk. They lit candles, which illuminated the twilight beneath four flags flying at half-staff at City Hall.

Two young women climbed the platform and held up a photo of Michael Rudometkin — one of the nine victims. He was an electromechanic and overhead line worker who had worked at VTA since 2013. They got on their knees, closed their eyes and spoke softly.

On the streets of downtown San Jose just feet away, VTA buses pulled up to the stop on East Santa Clara Street. The doors opened. They were ready to take the community home.