By Susan Gembrowski
UNION-TRIBUNE STAFF WRITER

April 8, 2003

NANCEE E. LEWIS / Union-Tribune A picture of Army Pvt. Damon Jones and his girlfriend, Deeandra James, sits on the coffee table at his foster mother's home.

Army Pvt. Devon D. Jones moved from one San Diego group home to another until he finally found the foster family he had prayed for.

Now, the woman who took him in three years ago, the woman he called mom, is mourning the 19-year-old artillery specialist, who died Friday when a Humvee crashed into an Iraqi ravine.

"He was praying for a family and God answered his prayers," his foster mother, Evelyn Houston, said yesterday, as relatives and friends brought bouquets, cards and condolences to her Valencia Park home.

Jones left for boot camp a few weeks after graduating from Lincoln High School in June. He wanted to be a high school teacher and a writer, but couldn't afford college. Four years in the military would finance his education. But that wasn't his only motivation. He was inspired by patriotism after the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks.

"I'm honored to talk about him," Houston said. "He was a strong spirit. He was cool, but compassionate, and always concerned about everyone's well-being."

Jones came back to see Houston in October and again in December before he was sent to the Middle East. He spent much of his leave with his girlfriend, Deeandra James, a 17-year-old senior at the San Diego School of Creative and Performing Arts. Their first date was to his senior prom. Jones wore a black fedora with his tuxedo.

"I would want to live because I haven't enjoyed life yet," he wrote Deeandra in a letter from Iraq. "I want to live because I feel like I'm the 'savior' of my family which is broken up and separated ... I want to live for you, Deeandra James."

NANCEE E. LEWIS / Union-Tribune Damon Jones, 18, looks at a family photo, next to his foster mother Evelyn Houston.

Jones looked out for his brothers, Damon, 18, and Dierre, 16, who also lived with Houston.

"If I could, I would tell him I looked up to him," Dierre said yesterday. "I never had the courage to say it."

The boys were in foster care in San Diego when their grandmother took them to live with her in Memphis, Tenn. They stayed with her for seven years until her death.

They returned to San Diego, but lived in different group homes. Jones wanted them to be together, but knew the odds were slim until he met Houston at New Creation Church in Oak Park.

"I see a lot of kids, but he stood out from all the other kids," said Carlton Singleton, Jones' counselor at a group home in Clairemont, who arranged the meeting with Houston. "He was very religious, very holy. He prayed every night for a home."

His biological mother, Alphenia Allen, 44, of Lincoln Park, credits her son with turning her life around.

"From his example, I became involved in church," she said. "I was incarcerated, locked up, and my son was the inspiration behind the change in my life. He encouraged me behind prison walls. He wrote to me. He told me he supported me with all his heart. He wrote on his last picture, 'Mom, I love you with all my heart.' "

Houston said Jones always told her he had two mothers. During his leave around the holidays from the 41st Field Artillery Regiment at Fort Stewart, Ga., he wanted a traditional Christmas. Houston bought the biggest tree she could find, and the family had at least 50 presents beneath it.

They reminisced about school dances, daily basketball games at the church and neighborhood football games with his best friend, Lance Lomas, 21, who is also Deeandra's brother.

Jones had volunteered to read with students at Kennedy Elementary School. And he excelled in public speaking, once telling his life story in front of 500 people at his church.

Lincoln High School Principal Wendell Bass said his heart sank when he heard the news Sunday night, while watching TV.

"He's good people. Dependable. Polite. The kind of people who make the world go around," he said.

Other Lincoln staff members were also struck by Jones' death.

Harold Moore, a counselor at the school, said it brings the war home. "There's not that connection, until someone you know dies.

"I'm so saddened. He was a quality young man," he said.

Like others, he described Jones as being well-mannered and serious. He called elders Mr. or Mrs., Moore said. "In schools, the superstars and the knuckleheads get all of the attention. He was just a real good kid."

Oscar Browne taught Jones in his public speaking class. He heard the news yesterday morning from students.

He had to stop for a moment to compose himself. He had come to school feeling upbeat. Daylight-saving time had started. The weather was glorious. "I was floating along. This takes the wind out of your sails."

It was less than a year ago that Jones was at Lincoln, he noted.

Now, he's gone.

"Like that," he said. "And he won't see his children or his children's children."

In a letter about a month ago to Keisha Erving, Houston's 33-year-old daughter, Jones wrote about his life in the desert. "Sometimes I just look into the sky at the stars and wonder what ya all are doing and smile."

"Hold on. Be patient," he wrote, "and know there is a reason for everything."

"Like any young man, he wanted the Army to be one of the chapters," Erving said, "not the whole book."