How Hood Santa and DK Law Are Serving Families
In Episode 3 of the DK All the Way podcast, Daniel Kim chats with Tito Rodriguez, also known as Hood Santa, about his childhood hardships, his early music career, and the founding and mission of his non-profit, Local Hearts Foundation.
Turning Tragedy Into Purpose: The Hood Santa Story
From childhood tragedy to community hero. The story of Tito Rodriguez, also known as Hood Santa, is an inspiring look into how one person became a champion for Southern California’s most vulnerable.
In this episode, Daniel sits down with Tito “Hood Santa” Rodriguez, musician and Director of Local Hearts Foundation. Tito’s story spans unimaginable loss at age six, close calls with street life, a breakout music career with millions of streams, a harsh crash course in the business side of the industry, and a complete pivot to serving families across Long Beach and the Los Angeles area for over 12 years.
Through their candid conversation, Tito shares how his brother’s tough love steered him away from gangs, how Local Hearts feeds families, clothes kids, and brings brands and neighbors together—and why giving away the last two boxes sparked a wave of generosity.
The DK All the Way Podcast
The DK All the Way Podcast is a candid look inside DK Law — how it started, what drives it, and what it really takes to fight for injured people and their families. Hosted by founders Daniel and Mina Kim, the podcast goes beyond case results and headlines.
Read the edited transcript of Episode 3 below.
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Daniel: Welcome to DK Law’s All the Way podcast, where we share real stories of resilience, redemption, and service. Today, we’re honored to have a very special guest, someone whose journey from hardship to hope has inspired thousands of kids and families across Southern California. He’s a community hero, a musician, and the director of Local Hearts Foundation. He’s also the newest but arguably the most impactful community partner of DK Law. Tito, welcome to the DK All the Way podcast.
Tito: Thank you, Daniel. Wow, that was an incredible intro. I was like, “Who’s this guy he’s about to interview…is that me?” Thanks for having me on.
Daniel: Absolutely. Let’s start at the beginning. Can you share a bit about your journey growing up and some of the challenges or turning points that shaped who you are today?
Tito: I was born and raised in Long Beach. When I was about six, my dad died by suicide—he stabbed himself in the heart on Christmas Eve. Overnight, it was just my mom raising five kids. My older brother stepped up to be the man of the house—he kept me in line, showed me love, and made sure I didn’t get pulled into gangs. He molded me into the man I am.
He worked at Winchell’s, rode a moped to Seal Beach, and helped my mom pay rent. He got me into breakdancing. I became one of the best little breakdancers in Long Beach—sneaking into 18+ clubs to battle. Later, I played Pop Warner at Long Beach Poly—known for sending tons of players to the NFL. I was the only Mexican on the field and loved it.
School wasn’t for me. My brother noticed I liked skateboarding and told me, “If you get at least a D, I’ll buy you a skateboard.” I got a D—in ESL of all things—and he bought me the board. Skating kept me busy and out of trouble in a tough neighborhood where violence felt normal.
As a teen, I made a dumb mistake—got in trouble at a 7‑Eleven and went to juvenile hall. When I got out, seeing my family cry was the first time I really felt their love. My brother said, “If you don’t like school, then you work.” He took me to plumbing jobs. I saved up, bought music equipment, and started producing.
A childhood friend connected to Snoop Dogg’s camp was rapping; I was making beats. We recorded a track that spread through the neighborhood, and eventually, the songs I worked on sold millions. When the music turned into business, things soured. I ended up in a legal fight with Snoop, and I was basically blackballed. He offered me $10,000 to settle when I already owed my attorney much more. I stuck to my principles. In a strange way, it blessed me—people knew I made those beats and hired me. Summers, I was making solid money and meeting people who’d later help with my nonprofit work—folks like Dr. Dre, Tommy Hilfiger, and Nick Diamond. I didn’t know then that there was a bigger purpose.
Daniel: Let’s talk about the birth of “Hood Santa.”
Tito: Fourteen years ago, I walked into a liquor store wearing a brand‑new shirt—one of many clothing sponsors had sent me. I saw a young homeless man outside. I went home, took off the shirt, wiped my face with it, and threw it away. Instantly, I felt convicted: “I just wasted what could’ve helped someone.” I grabbed a stack of shirts, went back, gave him some, and $20. He said, “I haven’t seen one of these in years.” Driving home, I thought, I know people. I can help.
I called friends and brands—Nick Diamond among them—and started handing out gear. I wrestled with scarcity: I had two boxes left and wanted to keep them. I felt God say, “You promised to give it away.” I did—and minutes later I got a call: “We’ve got two U‑Hauls of Diamond gear for you.” That’s when I learned: if you cling to a little, you can miss the bigger blessing.
We started giving out toys around Christmas. One night, we approached a young father pushing a stroller. He ran—four cars of Mexicans pulling up on a Black kid in Long Beach can be scary. My friend said, “You need a Santa suit so people know you’re friendly.” I ordered a cheap suit on eBay. As I got dressed near an apartment complex, a little boy watched from a balcony, ran door to door yelling, “Santa’s here!” He came down, tapped my chest, and said, “You’re the Hood Santa—’cause Santa never comes over here.” That was it. I knew my purpose. I walked away from music that day. My wife backed me, and Hood Santa was born.
Daniel: How did that grow into Local Hearts Foundation?
Tito: We were giving constantly, but when bigger donors called—“I have $10,000, but I need a tax receipt”—I couldn’t provide it. Same with someone offering a van. I realized we needed to legitimize, build structure, and scale impact. Local Hearts Foundation was the answer.
Daniel: You also document everything. Why?
Tito: Transparency and joy. I want donors to feel what their gifts do—to see moms cry with relief, kids jump for joy. Recording inspires others to give, and it holds us accountable. If DK Law donates $2 or $20,000, I want you to see it go exactly where we promised.
Daniel: Walk us through your year‑round programs.
Tito:
- Easter: Baskets & Pancakes — 1,500 Easter baskets, hot pancakes via Loaded Cafe, and wristbands with messages like “Jesus loves you.”
- Education Is Power — Thousands of backpacks before school; sometimes we tuck in tablets or laptops for bigger families, or a little cash for essentials.
- Thanksgiving: Diamonds & Turkeys — Turkeys, sides (as funds allow), and warm gear for elders—beanies, sweaters—so they don’t get sick.
- Diamond Christmas — Massive toy drive with SOS Booking and big bands; entry is a toy. We fill a 21‑foot U‑Haul with quality toys.
- Weekly Groceries (Wednesdays) — We set up at a park and buy groceries for families, including those afraid to seek help elsewhere.
Daniel: Mentorship and life skills are a big focus, too.
Tito: Yes—my wife leads mentoring for about 23 teens (13–18). We teach resumes, applying for jobs—small things that change everything. One kid said, “Somebody’s watching me,” and that meant the world.
Our 2026 goal is to build a hands‑on life‑skills lab in our warehouse: plumbing basics, changing a tire, oil changes—skills AI can’t replace. Toyota has already offered a car, supplies, and to send techs to instruct. We’re looking for partners in other trades.
Daniel: Tell us about the DK Law × Local Hearts street‑vendor campaign.
Tito: Street vending can be dangerous and underpaid. Many vendors work for someone else and keep only a few dollars per sale. We show love by surprising them, buying out their flowers or goods, giving cash, and sending them home early to rest with family. During the pandemic, vendors were frequent targets—outside with cash while streets were empty.
Years back, we organized the first vendor “buyout” I know of—right on the block where a vendor had been robbed. Hundreds showed. The city blocked the street for safety. The vendor raised months of rent and got a public apology. That momentum spread—more buyouts, more awareness.
Daniel: What kind of help do you need next?
Tito: For the mentorship and life‑skills lab: trade partners (plumbing, electrical, construction, auto), equipment donations, instructors, and funding for computers and supplies. We recently distributed $40,000 in Chromebooks with support from Toyota and community dealers, so kids don’t have to risk safety just to use a library computer.
Daniel: I’m grateful for this partnership and the impact we’re seeing together.
Tito: Likewise. DK Law has been family—transparent, kind, and all‑in. This is a godly mission. I’ve been threatened and tried, but God directs my steps. Even some tough skeptics end up volunteering after they experience the joy of serving.
Daniel: Final word?
Tito: If you learn to work with your hands, you’ll never be broke. And when we lead with empathy—feeding families, giving kids shoes, laptops, toys—we transform neighborhoods. Good people helping good people do more good.
Daniel: You’ve been listening to Born to Serve – The Story of The Hood Santa.
For more information or to support Tito’s mission, visit @thehoodsanta.
To learn more about DK Law’s community work, visit www.dklaw.com.
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