One year after police shot and killed Carlos Mejia, community gathers in memory and protest.

A year ago, protestors gathered on the corner of Del Monte Avenue and North Sanborn Road in Salinas, calling for justice on behalf of two men who'd been shot dead by police officers. 

A year later, investigations into the shooting deaths of Osmar Hernandez and Carlos Mejia are still under investigation by the District Attorney's office, and protestors returned to the corner where Mejia was killed with new signs, and candles for a vigil. 

"Un año sin justicia," one banner read, Spanish for "One year without justice." 

Artist Liz Ruvalcava stayed up all night painting a still from the video that captured the Mejia shooting, with the Spanish words, "Alone, they kill us. Together, they fear us." 

One poster read, "All we wanna do is be free."

Protestors burned aromatic sage, played drums, and placed candles and flowers next to a small cross where Mejia was shot. 

When a KSBW news crew arrived Wednesday night, City Councilman Jose Castañeda started chanting, "KBSW, no more lies!" in a reversal of the TV station's acronym, spelling BS.

One protestor interrupted him: "That's not what it's about," she said. "It's about Carlos Mejia."

Family members of Osmar Hernandez and Frank Alvarado also joined, holding signs asking for justice on behalf of those two men. Alvarado was the fourth Latino man shot and killed by Salinas police last year. 

Yoanna Prieto, a 20-year-old Hartnell College student who lives around the corner on Elkington Avenue, says she took the iPhone video footage documenting the Mejia shooting that went viral. 

In the days after the shooting, she was so shaken she couldn't eat and missed her finals. 

"It's a bad memory for us," Prieto said. "Ever since, there have been more incidents throughout the U.S. I don't know if they got influenced by Salinas."

Two days after the shooting, police posted surveillance cameras in the neighborhood to protect witnesses from intimidation, they said. 

For Prieto, the intimidation came from reporters who kept knocking on her door and asking her to comment. "I didn't feel safe being at my house, reporters just showing up," she says. 

A group of third- and fourth-graders who live in the neighborhood also joined the protest. Maria, age 9, remembers feeling sad when she learned about the shooting on the corner last year, then days of protests afterward.

"Last time, it was packed," she says. 

This time, her parents were too tired to bring her, so her big brother, 11, walked her down to participate. Maria and her friends Rebeca and Sabrina aren't precise about what they mean by asking for justice for Mejia, Hernandez and Alvarado, but they know they don't like the police. 

"We want justice," says Ricky, Maria's brother. 

"We want them to stop killing people," Maria adds. 

Their school, Alisal Community School, was on lockdown earlier in the day while police pursued a burglary suspect near school grounds. I ask the group of kids if they believe police can help them in circumstances like that, catching bad guys. They're dubious. "They could, but…" Maria trails off.

Across the intersection, another young woman is less skeptical of police. She declines to give her last name, because she is pursuing a career in law enforcement. Bree, 20, grew up in this neighborhood, and is about to complete her degree in administration of justice at Hartnell College. 

She had been planning to apply for a job with Salinas PD, but changed her mind after the Mejia shooting. Now she hopes to become a sheriff's deputy instead. 

"Not all officers are bad," she says. "I've met both types of officers: Some are here to help you out. And who's going to stop all the little gangsters?"

"If you want change, you've got to start somewhere," Bree adds. "Maybe you can make changes yourself. I'm just hoping by entering law enforcement, my voice will be heard."