Still wondering ‘why?’

A senior at Chavez High School, Juwan Small was a good student, played football for the Titans and planned to attend community college in Modesto. His long-term plan was to become a barber. COURTESY OF STOCKTON UNIFIED SCHOOL DISTRICT

After 2½ years, family members can't understand 17-year-old's death

It was 4:15 p.m. on Dec. 14, 2015, when Juwan Small decided to stop by a nearby friend’s house to drop off a pair of Air Jordan sneakers.

Juwan had to be home at 5 p.m. That strict curfew was enforced by his mother, Jessica Sewell, one that her three children — Juwan, 17; Devin, also 17; and 11-year-old daughter Jovanna — followed and were expected home when she returned from work.

When Sewell, a community manager for a homeowners association, arrived home at 5 p.m. that day, her oldest son was not there. She called him on his cellphone, but it kept going to voicemail.

Neighbors alerted her that there was heavy police activity three blocks away. A male teenager riding a bike had been shot and killed between East Swain Road and Lorraine Avenue, they said.

Sewell arrived at the scene and saw past the police tape what looked to be a bike similar to the one Devin owned. Next to it, a lime green backpack she bought her two boys so she could easily identify them while picking them up from school at Chavez High School.

“I saw that green backpack and I knew it was him,” Sewell said. Juwan also had two tattoos that read “Momma’s Boy” and “Forgive Me.” She asked an officer if the victim had the tattoos, and the officer confirmed.

“She said, ‘Yes that’s him.’ It was just crazy.”

Time moves on

It's been 2½ years since Sewell’s son was shot to death a day short of his 18th birthday. Juwan was the 45th homicide of the year that Stockton police investigated.

Speaking from her north Stockton home, Sewell, 40, remembered her son as very outgoing, confident and the life of the party.

“When Juwan walked into a room, you knew Juwan was there, that was just him. That’s what I loved about him, he wasn’t afraid to speak his mind. He had a soft side, too. We would sit back, talk and laugh all night.”

For someone his age, Juwan was very well dressed and kept tabs on the latest trends, inspired by individuals such as Kanye West.

He was also known as a sneakerhead. Juwan collected more than 100 pairs of shoes (his favorites were Sperry’s), and he loved shoes so much, it would be a common sight to see him clean the bottoms of his sneakers with a toothbrush after each use, wrap them in plastic, and store them back in the original shoebox.

Sewell started a shoe drive in Juwan’s name that now is in its second year. Every December around his birthday, shoes are collected and donated to kids in need. Juwan was renowned for giving away clothing and shoes.

To this day, Sewell continues to see his friends wearing his belongings.

“It warms my heart because kids now will say (they) have his sweater or pair of shoes … maybe it was his way of leaving a piece of himself in every person that he touched,” she said.

As a student, Juwan loathed sitting still to study, but he always completed his homework and received good grades. He attended Stagg, Edison and then Chavez, where he played football and had plans to attend community college in Modesto.

Memories

In the spring following his death, Norman Sewell, Juwan’s grandfather, stepped on stage during Chavez High’s graduation ceremony to accept his grandson’s diploma.

“It was a tough walk. I wouldn’t want any parent or grandparent to have to do that,” he said.

For reasons only Juwan understood, he wanted to be a barber. While he kept his own hair tight and short, he took delight in giving Devin and his friends haircuts. Juwan was intrigued by the freedom to set his own hours and having those closest to him as clients.

The walls of Sewell’s home are populated with framed photographs of her boy taken too soon. There are football pictures in full uniform, screenshot text messages of him asking for help filling out college applications and just being a happy-go-lucky kid.

Sewell could not get out of bed for two weeks after Juwan was killed. She couldn’t comprehend what had taken place and had mentally checked out, she said. At his funeral, more than 400 people attended.

“He had friends everywhere, I never worried about Juwan; he knew young people, old, all races. Wherever we went, he knew someone. People would call him all the time,” Sewell said. “I never worried he would be in a position where this could happen.”

Juwan’s sudden death has affected his younger siblings as well. Devin keeps to himself and channels his emotions on the court as a junior playing on the Weston Ranch High basketball team.

Jovanna continues to struggle with grasping the idea that her oldest brother, one who loved to be silly and create dance routines to Beyoncé songs, is never coming home.

“There are certain movies that we don’t watch because of the violent stuff; if (Devin) goes outside to shoot hoops, I’m nervous,” Norman Sewell said. “I’m protective — I’ll stand outside like a security guard.”

Jessica Sewell goes through one of the many photo albums of her oldest son, Juwan Small, who was shot and killed two years ago.

Life lessons

“He would tell me that life is all about the experiences,” Jessica Sewell said. “Since he passed, I take that into perspective; living every day. I can’t be sad about the situation of what happened to my son, because he lived a great life. In 17 years, he lived a wonderful life. Juwan lived what Juwan wanted to do. I was blessed to be able to have those 17 years with him.”

The fact remains that someone out there knows what happened on that cold afternoon. Sewell just wants someone to come forward and to be honest with what they might have seen.

“Justice is not going to bring my son back at this point,” she said, holding back tears. “I’ve come to terms saying I’ve got to let it go.”

Contact reporter Nicholas Filipas at (209) 546-8257 or nfilipas@recordnet.com. Follow him on Twitter @nicholasfilipas.

Listen to reporter Nicholas Filipas and Editor Don Blount talk about working on The Record’s Violent Crime Project.