Carl Jones, Jr., known as “CJ”, walked through life with a ready joke and a smile on his face, according to those who knew him. In the early hours of March 3, he was fatally shot on the 100 block of Sixth Street in the South of Market neighborhood.
Jones, 43, died in the hospital shortly after. He left behind his younger sister Amelia, older siblings Monique and Michael, and a beloved dog. Another sister, Jacqueline, died two years earlier. Eight hours later, police arrested suspect Siaosi Aleamotuay, 33. Any potential motive remains unclear.
“He had love for everyone around him,” said Amelia of her older brother. “He was the heart of our family.”
Born Oct. 30, 1982, Jones grew up in San Francisco’s Fillmore neighborhood alongside his siblings. Their early life was not easy. The family sometimes went without food or stable housing and relied on meals and shelter at Glide Memorial Church. “We used to have to beg for food,” Amelia said.
Despite those challenges, Jones stood out early for his intelligence. In school he earned a 4.0 grade point average and was an exceptional student in reading and English. Amelia said Carl had the ability to attend almost any college he wanted, and toured several historically Black colleges and universities.
But life got in the way. Jones lost his parents before he could figure out his future. His father died when he was just 16, and he lost his mother at age 18.
As a teenager, Jones spent time in the foster care system and ended up living in Edgewood, a group home in the Ingleside neighborhood. He came of age in the system and sometimes ran with the wrong crowd, Amelia said. But it didn’t harden him.
“He never lost his big heart,” she said. “He was always loving. He always had a smile on his face. He would give you advice, and it would always be supportive.”
Jones enjoyed fixing and working on bicycles, listening to music, writing rap songs and collecting shoes. “He thought he was the flyest person in the world,” Amelia said.
He lived at the Henry Hotel on Sixth Street with his light brown, curly-haired dog, Teddy Graham, whose name carries on a family tradition of sweet nicknames. Their mother went by Cookie and Amelia named her own dog Gingerbread Jones.
Charles Toyner, a neighbor, was walking up Sixth Street on March 3 when he heard two shots fired. Toyner ducked behind a pole and watched Jones’ dog, “Teddy G,” run across the street “whining and crying.”
Toyner grabbed Teddy G, told police on the scene that he would take care of the dog, and did not let go until 12 hours later when he reached the Gubbio Project, a community organization in the Mission.
Jones, it turned out, had been a client at the Gubbio Project. Terry Morris, an outreach worker who knew him, remembered his “bright eyes” and “down-to-earth” energy.
He was, Morris said, “a presence”: humorous, generous, always receptive to engaging with people on the street. And he treated Teddy G like a member of the family, making sure the “dog ate before he ate.”
Rio Amor, a drug overdose educator and substance abuse specialist at the nonprofit, set out to help Toyner find Teddy G’s next of kin. In the meantime, people who knew or met Teddy G began offering to adopt him, Amor said – including Amor’s own abuela. The dog is well-groomed and good-natured; when you sit, he sits. It was clear, Amor said, that Jones had done “everything they could to take care of this dog.”
Amor finally got in contact with Amelia — now living in San Jose — the following day. She and Jones’ other relatives piled into a car to San Francisco to take Teddy G home.
Though she is two years younger, Amelia still called Jones “my little big brother” for the loving way he protected her and encouraged her. “He always wanted the best for his siblings,” she said.
“I’m just shocked that anyone could take him from us like that.”