SLO County remembers man killed in alleged hate crime: ‘This shouldn’t happen to anybody’

More than 200 people gathered at a Santa Margarita ranch on Saturday to celebrate the life of 34-year-old Todd Pinion, who was killed in an alleged hate crime on Oct. 23.

The memorial had all of Pinion’s favorite things — a tie-dye station, a rock-painting station, karaoke and a sound bath.

Police found Pinion’s body on Nov. 3 in a remote area near Tassajara Creek, about a week after he had been reported missing on Oct. 30. Spock, his dog who never left his side, was found dead at the bottom of the Cuesta Grade on Oct. 31.

Tyler Stevens, 21, has since been charged with Pinion’s murder and animal cruelty. The San Luis Obispo County District Attorney’s Office alleged Stevens killed Pinion because of his “actual or perceived sexual orientation.”

Melody Pinion, Todd’s mother, described her son as her “hippie boy.”

“It was peace, love, serenity and unity for all. That’s all he wanted. He didn’t think there was an evil bone in anybody’s body,” Melody said. “If he felt negativity, he felt like he had to heal you through that negativity.”

At the memorial, she wore a bright orange top, cream crochet vest and colorful yoga pants with a swirl pattern. Her nails had a orange-and-green tie-dye pattern.

It wasn’t her style, she said, but it was Todd’s. She was wearing it for him. Especially the rainbow-colored, heart-shaped sticker that read, “Justice for Todd.”

In the year leading up to his death, Melody said, Todd struggled with homelessness after a severe head injury left him unable to work and pay his rent. She said she tried to convince to him to move to Oklahoma to live with her temporarily as he got back on his feet, but he wanted to stay in California.

There were people there who needed his healing still, she said he told her.

“He had just so many different types of people in his life that he had a connection with,” Brandi Anderson, one of Todd’s best friends, told The Tribune.

Todd Pinion left ‘profound impression,’ friends say

Anderson helped plan the memorial in three days. She said she felt like she owed it to Todd to make the day day special.

The two met in 2008 when they were 17 or 18, just when being gay was starting to become more acceptable, she said.

“It was starting to kind of come out — literally come out — of the closet,” she said. “I think we both had each other’s backs in that alliance in the beginning and we just ended up having so many similarities.”

Anderson said Todd helped her battle addiction, and both went through the loss of friends, partners and family homes being sold.

Her grandpa sold her family’s property last year after her grandma died, Anderson said, and she was struggling with the loss. She was working in Utah at the time, and Pinion unbeknownst to her went to the property and cut a rose off each of her grandma’s rose bushes and repotted them.

“He made sure that my grandma’s roses lived on,” Anderson said. “He just knew how to show you he cared in the most genuine, deep possible way you could think of, like that meant everything to me.”

Jakey Harper, another one of Todd’s best friends, said one of his superpowers was making the person he was with feel special.

“He always gave his full attention to people, 100%,” he said.

Harper said he met Todd through a mutual friend in 2015. One of his favorite memories was attending a onesie party in San Miguel, where he and Todd spent the entire night dancing, singing and sharing goofy glances from across the room.

A few years ago, Harper said, Todd found an orphan baby goose at Pirate’s Cove and decided to save and rehabilitate it.

He named the goose Pirate, Harper said, and cared for it until it left his home one day.

Harper, like several others, has been struggling with Todd’s death. But there was a moment prior to the memorial where Harper felt his presence.

“All I heard him say was, ‘Don’t despair.’ So I decided to really remember our good times together. He’s an easy person to remember the good times. He’s gonna be so memorable. He made such a profound impression.”

Alleged hate crime is ‘shock’ to SLO County community

Katie Peña wore the same outfit Todd was wearing the last time she saw him at SLO Pride — a drag unicorn with a full face of makeup, sleeves to look like hooves, a rainbow horn and fluffy and colorful tail.

She sang Chappell Roan’s “Pink Pony Club” on karaoke, an LGBTQ+ anthem about loving, embracing and accepting yourself as you are. When the machine lost its connection, the crowd at the memorial helped her finish the chorus a cappella. She described Todd as a free spirit who would open his heart to anybody who needed help.

“It’s hit a lot of people. It’s just a shock for the area to have that kind of thing happen,” she said. “I’m part of the queer community, and for that kind of thing to happen to somebody, it’s really sad. But we just have to keep showing love. We can’t hate.”

Alicia Jernigan, who was friends with Todd, said he was “a shining rainbow light of love and the absolute gentlest, sweetest healer,” who touched so many people.

“This shouldn’t happen to anybody. But if you ever met Todd, you would be shocked that anyone could ever hurt him. He’s just the sweetest thing,” Jernigan said.

She said she is devastated that an alleged hate crime could happen in San Luis Obispo County.

“It’s not OK. We won’t stand for it and we need to stop the hate, because I feel like the gates just opened up for a lot more of this in the next four years,” Jernigan said, referencing former President Donald Trump’s reelection Nov. 7. “We need to keep our eye on it, and we need to make sure everyone knows hate doesn’t stand a chance here.”

Yesenia Echevarria didn’t know Todd, but said she felt compelled to honor his life at the memorial to make sure his family knew they were not mourning alone.

“This is a dark moment in the history of SLO County,” Echevarria said. “Todd was someone that was beloved in the queer community, and more than ever our queer community, especially our kids, are scared and they’re horrified. That’s why we need to be united and show that love has way more weight that hate.”

Echevarria said she and the SLO County community won’t let Todd’s spirit die.

“If anything, that fuels us as the community to continue to do the work and to stand in the gaps now that he is longer here, for the protection of everyone else.”

Beloved family member loved nature, rocks, animals

Roger and Jalynn Smith, Todd’s cousins, said Todd always saw the good in people, no matter what.

“Just him being in your presence would bring out your best,” Roger said.

A memory the two treasure was just last Christmas, they said, when Pinion visited them from Oklahoma. Their 5-year-old daughter loves unicorns, and Pinion had found the perfect unicorn sweater to give her.

“While she was opening it up, he ran into the room, put on a unicorn onesie and came out and they were both unicorns together,” Jaylynn said.

Now, that’s a memory they’ll treasure forever.

Gabriel Legault, Todd’s younger cousin, said that he hadn’t been that close with Pinion growing up, but when his dad died a few years ago, Todd showed up with welcoming and comforting arms.

The two decided to plan a trip to Big Sur to hunt for jade — one of Todd’s favorite activities.

“I just remember, it’s very easy to be yourself around him, because there’s no feeling of judgment,” Legault said. “He’s just himself, and he just wants you to be, too.”

Todd showed Legault all of his secret spots, Legault said, then the two decided to camp. They woke up early to drive home, but were still tired so pulled over on the side of the road. Todd played Pink Floyd, and they took a nap in the car.

Todd’s love of rocks started as a young child, his mother, Melody, said. When he was just 5, Todd would spend hours in the backyard collecting and playing with rocks.

So, for Christmas when he was 6, Melody got a shoe box, filled it with rocks, wrapped it and then told Todd that Santa wanted him to open that gift first.

“His eyes just lit up,” she said.

His love for nature didn’t just stop at rocks, Melody said. He had a gift for connecting with animals — he had a special understanding with his grandmother’s donkey, Dart — and loved creating jewelry out of anything he found.

After her son’s death, Melody received a message from a woman who had only met TOdd once while he was on a roadtrip passing through Flagstaff, Arizona, before visiting the vortexes in Sedona.

The woman said Todd was one of her last customers one night, and the two had a conversation that lasted for hours. They laughed, they cried, they hugged. Then Todd gave her earrings he made out of crystals. Just that one conversation had such an impact on her, the woman told Melody.

Melody doesn’t take any credit when it comes to the kind soul she raised — Todd was just born that way, she said. All she did was ensure he felt loved, and that their family was always a soft place to fall.

Right now, she is trying to practice what Todd has taught her: patience and forgiveness.

“I’m trying to find it in my heart. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive Tyler Stevens, ever. I don’t know when and how, but I know Todd would want me to forgive because that’s how Todd was. I need to learn that.”

For now, Melody said, she is thankful for all the support from her family, friends, her son’s friends and the community, especially those who have shared the positive way her son has impacted their lives.

“That’s what’s getting me through this, because they loved him so much,” she said.