Now Davion is twenty, and he has done something specific with the year since: he built a scholarship in Woullard's name, aimed at young people from the neighborhood who are trying to get somewhere. The scholarship is small for now — the kind of thing that starts with a GoFundMe and a borrowed table at a community event — but it is pointed and deliberate in a way that matters more than its current dollar amount. Davion told MissionLocal he wanted people to say Jaylen's name in a context that wasn't grief.

That framing is worth pausing on. The scholarship isn't a memorial in the static sense — a plaque bolted to a wall, a moment of silence at a rec center. It's a mechanism that requires someone to apply, a committee to decide, a check to get written. It has to keep happening. Davion built something with maintenance requirements, which is another way of saying he built something alive.

Potrero Hill has its own complicated relationship with erasure and memory. The flatlands below the hill, sometimes called the Lower Bottoms, have seen enough loss over enough years that the community has developed its own grammar for it: murals, annual vigils, shirts with faces printed on them. A scholarship adds another kind of infrastructure to that grammar — one that sends someone to school.

Anyone walking past the community center on De Haro in the coming weeks may see flyers going up for the first application cycle. That's the visible change: a name on a piece of paper, asking what you want to do next.