Before he even learned how to walk, Juan Carlos Robles-Corona Jr. would shake his chubby baby body to the beat.
As a toddler, he would stop cold in the middle of the street and start dancing to blaring music from a passing car.
“Whatever rhythm he had, he wanted to make sure that he was known,” remembered his mother, Maria Balbuena.
JR (Junior), as his family called him, was the eldest of four children (Aiden, 10, Mia, 9, and Dylan, 4) and stepped effortlessly into the role of protector and confidant.
JR walked his siblings to and from school each day, cleaned the house while Maria was working a 12-hour shift at Auntie Anne’s pretzel shop, and reminded everyone to turn the lights off to keep the electric bill low.
Even as an eighth-grader, JR was mature and practical. “Why go to college and spend so much money that puts you in debt and then you don’t like what you’re doing anyway,” he reasoned.
Instead, he wanted to earn as much money as possible to create a legacy for himself and his family. He was in discussions with Maria’s boss to start a vending machine business at hair salons. By 18, he would follow in his mother’s footsteps and manage his own Auntie Anne’s location. He already worked with her several days a week in Philadelphia’s Fashion District, rolling and twisting the dough, ringing up customers and giving away leftover pretzels before closing time.
Sometimes, JR’s dreams ping-ponged from rapping to professional soccer to law enforcement to designing sweatshirts, but Maria remained encouraging. “If you’re going to start something, you better finish it,” she reminded him.
After Maria separated from JR’s father, Juan Carlos Sr., the family moved from Staten Island, New York, to North Philadelphia in 2020 during the COVID-19 pandemic. Initially upset about leaving his friends, Junior grew to love Philadelphia and its people.
“I’m different but they don’t see that difference here,” he told his mom.
Naturally outgoing, JR easily made friends, but he was selective and fiercely loyal.
Last spring, the family took in one of JR’s friends for two consecutive weekends, after the boy’s house had been riddled with bullets.
Soon after, on April 4, 2022 shortly before 3 p.m., JR was fatally shot less than a block away from his school, Dr. Tanner G. Duckrey Public School, along the 2200 block of North 15th Street in North Philadelphia.
Two suspects ambushed the eighth-grader and fired nearly 30 shots, according to police. Police have identified three suspects associated with the killing — all boys ages 14 to 16 — but they have not been charged yet, Maria said. All are being held in prison in connection with other shootings, she said.
JR is buried in St. Peter’s Cemetery on Staten Island.
“Juan Carlos was just starting to embroider his thread on the centuries-old canvas to which millions of Philadelphians, native and newcomers alike, have contributed…,” read his family’s obituary.
Born on February 3, 2007 on Staten Island, JR was a ladies’ man before he fully understood the concept. He used to borrow cologne from his father every morning. When he was just nine years old, he starting bragging about being “sexy” to his cousin, Joselyn Balbuena.
JR would dance around to catch girls’ attention, even if there was no music, Joselyn, now 16, recalled. He promised to be her dance partner at her Sweet 18 party.
Growing up, JR played soccer in the field and Fortnite on the Xbox. The cousins pretended to be professional wrestlers, flamboyantly entering their imaginary ring. JR chose Roman Reigns, flexing his biceps and puffing out his chest.
She nicknamed him “flaco” (skinny) and taught him Latin dances, including Cumbia.
“We would just match each other’s energy anywhere,” Joselyn said.
An incorrigible flirt, JR would even hit on his teachers, who found it hilarious. “I could treat you better than your boyfriend,” he cooed.
While Maria was going through a rough patch with JR’s dad, JR would give her a couple hours to lie in bed undisturbed while he tidied up the house. Then, he barged in to cheer her up. Shirtless with his pants belted high above his waist, he gyrated his hips and declared, “the ladies love me.”
If Maria still didn’t get up, even after JR offered to buy her McDonald’s, he threatened to “dirty the house again.”
When JR landed his first official girlfriend at age 14, he brought her a dozen roses and six for her mom, a friend of Maria’s, whom he persuaded to let her daughter go out with him. Every one-month anniversary necessitated another rose or a teddy bear for the girl.
Apart from being a gentleman, he was a responsible worker, arriving at least 10 minutes before each shift. After his grandmother fell ill, he offered to give her his weekly tips.
JR also enjoyed rapping about his family, friends and love life.
“What do you know about love?” Maria teased him.
“It’s gonna be the number one,” he retorted.
“Whatever goals he had in his head, he was going to accomplish it, no matter what,” Maria said.
JR dressed to impress, wearing skinny jeans and spotless Nikes. One time, he spent $250 on a pair of designer beige shorts and lied about it, infuriating Maria. When Maria dared to wear pajamas to eat breakfast at a diner, JR made her change into a sweater and sweatpants because “you can’t be looking like that with me.”
He visited Mexico for the first time last year, staying with his grandparents. Although both Maria and JR’s father are Mexican, they never focused on their heritage, preferring to have their children associate with people of all cultures. For the longest time, JR assumed that he was Dominican.
This year, on Día de los Muertos (The Day of the Dead), Maria set up an altar in her living room dedicated to her first son, surrounded by pictures, candles, yogurt, and a glass of water.
JR’s siblings brought his favorite cookies and spicy chips to the shrine. JR used to chide them for not exercising frugality and rationing their snacks throughout the week. Then, after they fell asleep, he would slip downstairs and Maria would hear the sound of crumpled bags.
As rap music boomed from the altar earlier this month, young Dylan danced in his brother’s honor.
Resources are available for people and communities that have endured gun violence in Philadelphia. Click here for more information.
