James Soulie-Washburn’s patience and care always stood out to his little brother, Luke. Even as a young child, James went above and beyond for his brother.
“I still remember how, when I still couldn’t read, he read all the Pokemon text so I could play. He kept his friends and family very close to his heart, forging relationships with meaning and depth,” Luke told Mustang News.
First-year architecture transfer James was known for his creativity, artistic spirit and peaceful demeanor. In the aftermath of his passing on Dec. 2, his family shared a message to the campus community remembering his life.
“If everyone carried themselves with a fraction of James’ wise and empathetic frame of mind, we’d all lead happier lives,” Luke said.
James grew up in Encinitas, California. He studied in Paris and Washington State before becoming a Mustang in 2024.
In their message, James’ family remarked how he was fluent in three languages and played seven instruments. He was also a talented artist with interests in music, anime and short films, as well as making his own wooden furniture and handmade couture clothing.
Luke recounted, “I made dinner for us every night, and he would serenade me with his guitar while I cooked. One of many gifts he’s left behind can be found on SoundCloud, “Sweetheart” by Planet 2001, a song from high school.”
Beyond his artistic talents, James had a profound personal impact on his friends and family.
“He was a really amazing, once-in-a-lifetime kind of person. I wish I could have been as good a friend to him as he was to me,” said Gill Martinez, one of James’ friends and a fellow architecture student.
Martinez met James nearly three years ago while working a summer job together. When Martinez tried to apologize to James for the challenges to their friendship, James stopped her and expressed his pride in Martinez’s growth.
“Since then, it has been a constant reminder for me to keep pushing myself to be better. I don’t know if he knew how much it meant to me, but he was always so encouraging and thoughtful,” Martinez said.
Martinez recounted a time when she had a particularly bad day and fell asleep on her couch after talking it over with James.
“When I woke up, there was homemade food sitting on the coffee table. I saw a few texts from James explaining that he had come over to give it to me, but when I didn’t answer the phone, he just walked in and set it down before leaving,” Martinez said.

James’ standout qualities–his thoughtfulness, kindness and guidance–continue to comfort his loved ones even after his passing.
“I’ve found solace in James’s peaceful and pragmatic words: ‘Luke, don’t worry about what you can’t control.’ I always have and I always will look up to James as a role model,” Luke said.
James’ father felt shocked at just how quickly his time with James seemed to pass.
“23 years feels like one second. 23 years consumed in a flash,” he said.
James was known for his wisdom, far beyond his age, and gentle demeanor. He spent much of his free time seeking out peace at the beach or in the mountains.
“James, I will miss your sweet caring smile, your beautiful sensitivity, your immense kindness and generosity. With your grandfather Jean-Louis, you will never stop watching over us, I’m sure of it. I love you so much, and you will forever live in my heart,” James’ father said.
His family encourages people to join them in honoring James’ life and legacy by treating one another with kindness and seeking help in tough times.
“Please know that you are not alone. There are people like the two of us that would give anything to help you,” James’ mother and brother wrote.
If you or someone you know is suffering, the 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline is available by dialing 988. Specialized counselors are ready to talk and provide life-saving support.
“If there’s a hill, there’s a way over it. Life’s too short not to embrace every challenge and see what’s at the top of the hill, whether in a relationship or life itself. Live like James–life is precious, and it’s too important to waste on worry or hesitation,” Luke said.

