Jarmond Johnson Obituary, Death: 25-Year-Old Memphis Rox Employee and Global Mountain Climber Killed in Soulsville Gym Shooting; Family Remembers ‘Peaceful’ Man with Child on the Way Amid Ongoing Investigation

The sudden and violent death of Jarmond Johnson, 25, has plunged Memphis into mourning and raised unsettling questions about safety and conflict resolution even in spaces designed for community, healing, and peace. Johnson—a longtime employee at the Memphis Rox climbing gym in Soulsville—was one of two men killed in a Sunday afternoon shooting that erupted inside the nonprofit facility. As Memphis police continue investigating what led to the fatal confrontation, Johnson’s family has stepped forward to identify him and share a portrait of a young man whose life was marked by resilience, passion, and a deep commitment to personal transformation.

According to a close relative, Jarmond Johnson was not just an employee at Memphis Rox; he was part of the gym’s soul. He had worked there for years, becoming a familiar face to climbers and newcomers alike. His connection to climbing, however, ran much deeper than a job. Climbing, his family said, had changed his life. He embraced it as a pathway to discipline, focus, and purpose—qualities that allowed him to redirect his life and build something meaningful from the ground up.

From the city streets to the highest peaks, Johnson’s journey took him across continents. He had climbed in Africa and Antarctica, scaling mountains that many only read about. These experiences weren’t leisure trips for him; they were expressions of perseverance and reflection. Through each climb, he pushed himself further from the chaos he had once known and closer to the stability he had worked so hard to build. That journey, his family emphasized, was not an easy one. Johnson had held all kinds of jobs, never shying away from hard work. Everything he had, he had earned with his own hands.

The shooting that claimed his life occurred Sunday on McLemore Avenue, within the familiar walls of Memphis Rox, a gym built on the ethos of accessibility and community. The gym operates as a nonprofit, offering climbing opportunities to all, regardless of income. For years, Johnson embodied that spirit—calm, generous, non-confrontational. According to his family, he was the kind of person who knew how to talk to people. He was steady. If things got tense, Johnson was the one to help others breathe through it. He never wanted conflict or fighting, and yet, it was in a moment of conflict that his life was taken.

The incident reportedly began as an argument that escalated into violence. Two men—Johnson and another individual who has not yet been publicly identified—were fatally shot in the gym on what should have been a quiet Sunday afternoon. Details about the shooter remain scarce, but Memphis police confirmed that one person has been detained in connection with the incident. As the investigation unfolds, the community is left with more questions than answers. How did a place known for peace and transformation become the site of tragedy? What led to the altercation? And could it have been prevented?

For Johnson’s family, the weight of grief is compounded by what they describe as his innate goodness. “Hit so hard because he was such a good person,” the relative said, recalling him as someone uniquely kind—“something special.” This sentiment was echoed in the emotional tone of the Memphis Rox Facebook post, where the organization confirmed that one of the victims was indeed a staff member. They announced that the gym would be closed Monday so the staff and community could process the trauma and grieve.

Johnson’s death is not just another entry on the Memphis Murder Map—a tool that tracks the rising tide of homicides in the city—it’s a piercing reminder of the fragility of life, even for those who’ve climbed their way out of darkness. His story challenges stereotypes and redefines what it means to overcome. In him was the embodiment of Memphis Rox’s mission: transformation, community, and access to healing through movement and connection.

Perhaps the most heartbreaking detail of all is that Johnson had a child on the way. He was preparing to become a father, to share with a new life all the lessons he had earned through struggle. In his family’s eyes, he was ready—ready to guide, to nurture, to protect. That opportunity has now been stolen, not only from him but from his unborn child, who will grow up knowing his father only through stories and the echo of memories shared by those who loved him.

The loss also reverberates through the Soulsville neighborhood, an area that has long been a crucible of art, activism, and resilience. Memphis Rox was established as a sanctuary of sorts—an inclusive space built deliberately in a historically underserved neighborhood. For many, including Johnson, it was more than a gym. It was a second home, a center for personal growth, a launchpad for possibilities. The shooting is a violation of that ethos, and for many in the community, it feels like a rupture of trust.

In the days ahead, the city must grapple with the implications of this tragedy. There will be legal processes, policy debates, and memorials. But there must also be space for honest reflection. What does it mean when violence intrudes on spaces designed to prevent it? How do communities protect their sanctuaries without becoming fortresses? And how can organizations like Memphis Rox continue to serve while ensuring safety for their staff and patrons?

As for Johnson, his legacy will likely live on in multiple forms. In the chalk-covered handholds of the climbing gym he helped nurture. In the lives of those he guided and calmed. In the child he will never meet, but who will carry forward his name. And in the mountains—the literal and metaphorical ones—he climbed with integrity and grit.

For now, Memphis Rox stands quiet. Its walls, once echoing with laughter and exertion, hold only silence. But they also hold memory. And memory, unlike breath, endures.