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SALT LAKE CITY — Inside an old-time barbershop just south of Los Angeles there is something peculiar taped up on the wall.

Next to the posters of Muhammed Ali and the Los Angeles Lakers, one poster is clearly out of place: It's a picture of the Utah Utes basketball team.

Even more odd, the team photographed isn't the one that made it to the national championship years ago; it's this year's team, which was mediocre at best. It begs the question: Why?

Every Friday, the answer to that question sits in one of the worn-out barber chairs. His name is Gary Dubois. His son Jarred, a transfer from Loyola Maramount University, plays for the Running Utes.

The barber who owns the business, Eric Muhammad, said he never dreamed he'd be rooting for the Utes.

"But here I am, that's my squad," Muhammad said. "When Utah comes on, that's my team."

Serving others off the court

Jarred has hit some big shots in his career, including an unforgettable 3-pointer in the PAC 12 tournament that sent the Utes to an overtime win against Arizona.

He's great in the spotlight, but he may be even better when the lights have dimmed — not as a player, but as a person.

Nearly every week, Jarred Dubois and his small army of friends spend an afternoon in Salt Lake City's Pioneer Park and along the streets near the homeless shelter. They hand out sandwiches and water, and they listen to the stories of the many who are homeless.

Almost weekly, Jarred goes to the local grocery store and fills a cart full of bread, peanut butter, jelly and water — enough to feed a cafeteria full of children.

Jarred pays for the food out of his own pocket, and then recruits a small group of players and friends to gather at his university dorm. They proceed to make sandwiches — a lot of sandwiches.

Leading the pack, Jarred and his small army spend the rest of the afternoon in Salt Lake City's Pioneer Park and along the streets near the homeless shelter. They hand out sandwiches and water, and they listen to the stories of the many who are homeless.

"You can't duplicate the feeling that someone gives you when you give them the meal that might be their only meal today, (in) two days," Jarred said. "Everyone has a story. They want someone to listen. Everyone wants their feelings or story to be heard."

But the reason why Jarred does what he does goes back to his father in Los Angeles.

"A lot of what I do on a daily basis comes from having my father around. I mean, where I grew up, not many of my friends even had a father," he said.

Jarred's inspiration: Dad

Jarred's father, Gary, is a physical education teacher at a middle school on the outskirts of Los Angeles. He's been teaching kids for nearly 30 years, and teaches them the same life lessons he's taught his own kids.

"He never told me how to do certain things or how to be," Jarred said, "but I definitely felt like he showed me."

Gary Dubois, Jarred Dubois' dad, spends part of his time in downtown Los Angeles feeding the homeless. To be able to afford to do so, he lives in his car.

That statement alone is why it should be no surprise Gary spends a part of his time in downtown Los Angeles feeding the homeless, clothing them, and lending an ear to their stories.

But Gary's story is an ironic one. Five years ago he was late on his rent and got kicked out of his home.

"Unfortunately, they said I had to go," Gary said. "So at the time I was homeless and I didn't have an option."

Half a decade later, Gary is still living out of his car in a parking lot near LAX. It's where he eats and sleeps. And despite the stream of 747's screaming overhead, it has become his new normal.

He's homeless no longer because he has to be, but because in his mind it's the right thing to do.

"I had a couple of family members that were having some financial issues. They were behind on her payments and needed some help, so I was sending them checks every month," Gary said.

In essence, Gary lives out of his car so family and friends don't have to live out of their cars.

"(It's) $2,000 dollars a month that I'm not putting on an apartment," he said. "That's a lot of money that can go a lot of different ways and can help a lot of people."

For Gary, that is the part of his story he often leaves out. Most friends don't know, his students don't know, and the people he serves don't know.

But his son Jarred, the one person who has silently watched every chapter play out, may have been the one person whose story he influenced the most.

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