OJALÁ – Spanish for “God willing,” this was the tag that Julian Sahlin `28 chose for himself as he began doing graffiti.
Sahlin, a first-year student from Sunnyvale, California, was found dead on Grinnell’s campus on April 12, 2025. He was 18. The Poweshiek County Medical Examiner’s Office has not yet released his cause of death publicly.
In the weeks following his passing, Julian’s friends continue to look for the “OJALÁ” tags he left on Grinnell’s campus and in the surrounding area.
“I wish I had asked him why exactly he picked that name,” said Jack Searby `28, one of Julian’s closest friends on campus.
“It could have gone down to just, he liked the way the letters looked next to each other,” said Jackson Scheer `28, another of Julian’s close friends. “Knowing him, that’s probably exactly why he did. He loved to play with the way letters interacted with each other, he looked at letters like they were shapes… and he would play with the lines of them… he thought about letters in a way I had never encountered.”
Julian, Searby and Scheer shared a deep friendship – symbolized, in part, by the “JS” initials they all had in common.
Peter Versh and Tanner Alger, both `25, referred to the three as the “Triple Js.” When Versh and Alger, who work for the bikeshare program Pedal Grinnell, would show up to open the church where they hold bike repair hours, the Triple Js were often already there, waiting outside the doors.
Versh and Alger met Julian at one of these workshop hours during his first couple of months at the College.
“Unforgettable person when you meet him,” Versh said of Julian. “Super white hair, glasses super thick, huge eyes and as tall as anything. And he’s got a good smile, too.”
Other friends of Julian’s also remember how physically striking he was upon first impression. Luke Skoskiewicz `28 met him for the first time at a Grinnell-in-the Bay Area picnic the summer before they both started at the College.
“I walk up to the little picnic area, and there’s just this little white bulb of hair over the horizon, just gleaming,” Skoskiewicz said.
Later, after Skoskiewicz and Julian had become friends, Skoskiewicz still found himself looking for Julian’s distinct head of hair around Grinnell.
“There was a period during winter in which every time I saw someone walking over the horizon in a white hat, I would have to look extra close because I wasn’t sure if it was Julian or just somebody wearing white,” Skoskiewicz said. “And I think that speaks to just how visible he was at a distance.”
“He was a shining star,” Scheer said.
Searby agreed. “Literally, his hair was so white!”
Jack Cerone `28, Julian’s roommate, also remembers being struck by his white hair on move-in day. “He was a tall guy, like really tall… very bright blonde hair, big glasses. I’m like, ‘Who is this guy?’”
Julian’s distinctively bright hair was a result of his albinism, which also caused his eyes to constantly vibrate, according to his friends.
“His eyes would never sit still,” said Searby.
“When you have someone you can’t make eye contact with, and you can’t tell what they’re looking at, at all, ever, it’s slightly freeing,” Scheer said. “You’re able to, ironically, zone into the conversation a little bit better, because you’re not worried about them looking at a certain part of your face or looking away or not paying attention.”
Friends said there was never a question that Julian was always paying keen attention to those around him, especially when it seemed no one else was. He was often described as open and patient.
“It was really easy to think that you were bothering him because he was so quiet, but he was actually a great listener,” Olivia Brown `28 said.
Julian had hoped to major in mathematics and economics, according to his friends.
“He had a very mechanically intuitive brain,” Searby said.
“He was an incredibly analytical person,” Versh said. “He had a real talent at being able to diagnose things very quickly. I think a lot of that shows in his bike skills.”
In early April, Julian applied to work as a mechanic for Pedal Grinnell during his sophomore year. When Pedal Grinnell staff conducted blind resume reviews of applicants, they did not realize Julian had applied until after he passed away.
“We started to connect some of the dots based off what information we could glean off his resume, like where he went to high school,” Versh said. “We realized that he was gonna be interviewed by us and likely hired.”
Alger described Julian as generous. “Always doing something for someone else,” he said. “Always bringing bikes in here to fix for other people.”
“The thing is, he would never fix up his bike,” Scheer said.
Kaavya Shriram `28 was one of the friends that Julian and Searby repaired a bike for. Shriram said that the now-refurbished bike is one of her most prized possessions.
“Because he was so quiet, people didn’t expect him to show up in the way he did, and so it was always really special,” Shriram said. “He showed up every time, literally every time you asked him to do anything.”
“He was down for anything,” said Sebastian Mrotzek `28. “If you asked him to do something, he’d do it with you. That was one of his best qualities – he always showed up for everything.”
“If you asked him to go somewhere, he would be there,” Brown said. “He just showed up.”
His consistent ability to show up and support his friends is one of the primary ways Julian is remembered. He is also often described as quiet.
“He found it really hard to talk about himself most of the time, even though we all wanted to know more about him, but he did not want to,” said Scheer. “Like I said, he was a very nonchalant person. He wanted to remain mysterious, that was a part of his essence.”
“He was strong,” said Searby. “Sometimes he seemed like he was made out of stone. Like nothing could reach him.”
When he did open up, Julian was infectiously funny.
“He had a wicked sense of humor,” said Shriram.
Skoskiewicz recalled a particularly funny moment during the setup of a recurring bonfire that was something of a ritual for Julian’s friend group.
“I keep hacking away at the base of the tree,” said Skoskiewicz, who was gathering firewood. “And he just walks up to the tree and he looks it up and down, and then, like he’s hitting a jump shot, he just jumps up, bear hugs the tree and just slams it straight into the ground, and the tree snaps straight in half and then he’s like, ‘See, not so hard.’ He didn’t say that, but he gestured at me like that. Man of few words, and then he just dragged it off into the tree pile and then just walked back on down the hill like it was nobody’s business.”
That was the kind of blunt, dry sense of humor Julian was known for.
“I remember asking him, I said, ‘What do you want out of life, like what do you want your life to be?’ I know that’s a big question. But what’s, like, the one thing you want?” said Scheer. “And he said that he wanted to graduate college, get a good job and just be able to live on his own if he wanted. And that’s a very achievable thing. And he knew that.”
Julian’s bike is still locked outside of Younker Hall, his on-campus dorm. In the days after his death, friends tucked flowers into the bike’s wheel spokes and left more outside of his now-empty room.
“One thing that’s really helped me process everything is like, I’ll go and sit near his bike, which is parked outside of Younker,” said Shriram. “That’s been something that’s been grounding for me, a place where I can just be with him and process everything.”
Jadyn Al-Fatah `27, Julian’s Community Advisor in Younker’s pit, said that he and Julian would occasionally run into each other while Al-Fatah was hanging out with members of the Queer People of Color group at Grinnell. Al-Fatah said that Julian was always a welcome presence, no matter the group.
“He never really felt out of place when he was there,” Al-Fatah said. “He just had good energy.”
Following Julian’s passing, Al-Fatah organized a small memorial for Julian outside of Younker on April 19. Al-Fatah invited Julian’s close friends, as well as staff at the College from the Center for Religion, Spirituality, and Social Justice, ResLife and administration.
“I wanted to honor him in a very loving way,” Al-Fatah said. “I wanted it to be a space to share experiences [about] Julian and to see how everyone was feeling.”
Al-Fatah said that the memorial largely consisted of friends sharing stories about Julian while they played Julian’s favorite songs intermittently.
Julian’s “OJALÁ” tags still remain around campus — lasting memorials to Julian’s friends and loved ones of his short and meaningful time at Grinnell.
“There are two spots that I’ve just, not even looking for at all, I’ve just found it,” said Isaac McCollum `28, another close friend of Julian’s. “It’s been kind of a nice way to remember him – he’s just kind of around – and to encounter that and think of him in that way.”
Searby and Julian often explored the area around Grinnell together, so Searby is aware of some of the off-campus spots Julian tagged.
“There’s some that are hidden far away,” Searby said. “There are some spots that I’m gonna bike and make a pilgrimage to just to sit with him. Like, real far away. We went on long bike rides.”
“It’ll disappear, the school will eventually cover it, and that’s fine. But there are spots that I don’t think they’ll ever get to, that are hidden away,” he said. “That’s part of the nature, and we talked about that a lot, about how they move away, and that’s kind of the beauty of it.”
“It’s ephemeral,” Scheer added.
The S&B was unable to reach Sahlin’s family for comment.
Kaavya Shriram `28 is a copy editor for The S&B. She was not involved in the writing or editing of this story.
