The Jeffrey Chen Story

Good men must die, but death cannot kill their names.

Jeff and his wife Sandy arrived in San Francisco in the mid 1980s. Jeff was raised in Taiwan and met Sandy in South China. Sandy was a few months pregnant with their first son Willy when they settled in a rundown home in San Francisco’s Portola District. A year later, they had a daughter they named Stacy. Jeff didn’t want to keep his family there. But he didn’t complain, he got to work.

Within 36 months of living in San Francisco he owned a corner store in the outer sunset. He had dreams of building something special for his kids and sending money to his relatives back home. He was committed to his children having the best education and more opportunity then he did growing up in Taiwan.

Sandy was a caring parent, but much more strict with their kids than her husband. She believed that children needed order and so did her husband. She would always argue with Jeff about spoiling the children. She would argue with Jeff about not keeping proper books at the store. She would argue with Jeff about allowing too many customers to shop on credit. But Jeff always knew how to ease her discomfort, he had a way with people. He quickly became a neighborhood favorite in the Sunset District.

On a Sunday night around closing, Jeff was stocking items to prepare for the week. Sandy and the kids would usually be in the store with him on Sunday, but their son Willy wasn’t feeling well so she took the kids home early. It was a slow night with a few customers in the store, mostly regulars, including a young man named Jerome.

Jeff made his way to the counter to greet Jerome with his inviting smile and easy manner. But Jerome seemed a bit unusual tonight. There was desperation in his eyes. Right when Jeff realized what was about to happen there was a handgun in his face.

“Don’t FUCK with me, give me the money or I’ll fucking kill you man!!”

Jeff couldn’t hear anything, he was frozen. Overwhelmed with fear and betrayal from a young man that he often tired to help. He snapped back into the moment and immediately opened the cash register.

The first shot fired at close range into Jeff’s chest. There was a young woman in the back of the store that began to scream hysterically. Jerome jumped over the counter and fired twice more times into Jeff as he laid on the floor, lifeless. There was an elderly man in the corner of the store that watched the entire incident. He was too old to run and he’d seen too much to shocked. He and Jerome locked eyes as he ran out of the store. There was $324 in the register.

Willy and Stacy don’t have any memories of their father. They have gotten to know him through the stories of their family members. They are told of his kindness, work ethic and how much he loved them. They didn’t get to experience his warmth or charm, but they’ve heard so many stories believe it’s true. No one was convicted in the murder of their father. Jerome was arrested as a suspect, but no one came forward to testify.

Sandy continues to mourn her husband. She never remarried. She put her energy into her children and her work. She let go of the notion of spoiling the children. She didn’t let them make excuses, but she made sure she always told them how much she loved them. She started a laundry service on San Bruno Ave and ran it for over 30 years before selling the business to retire.

She made sure her kids wanted for nothing and that they graduated from college. When she looks at them she’s absolutely certain that Jeff would be proud.

This is a fictional story was inspired by true events.

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