UPDATE: CTA staffer accused of weapons charges after fatal shooting of beloved West Loop doorman: police reportMore than 40 family members and West Loop residents gathered at the UIC/Halsted Blue Line station Monday night to mourn the death of John Flemister, a beloved area doorman who was killed ov er the weekend.Flemister, 61, worked the front desk at several area residential buildings and was heading home after work Saturday when he was shot and killed near the UIC/Halsted Blue Line station. The group gathered for a moment of silence before Bruce Butler, one of the residents in a West Loop building where Flemister worked, read Maya Angelou's "When Great Trees Fall." The group then took turns recounting memories of Flemister, including the way he kept treats behind his desk for the building's many dogs, or how he calmed residents in dire situations."You're all family, and we can hear that," Flemister's cousin, Ted Flemister, told the gathering. "The reason we're here is because the world is a better place for him being here." John Flemister kneels on his birthday next to the dog of a West Loop resident. Flemister used to keep pet treats behind his desk and would console residents when they were stressed.Bruce Butler/Provided His niece Sabrina Holton said she couldn't understand why anyone would want to do harm to her uncle."He loved his job to death. The residents loved him to death," she told the Sun-Times earlier Monday. "He was the best person ever … and I hope that we can find a funeral place that's big enough for the love that he's going to receive, because everyone loves him.""He helps everyone,” she added. "He's not confrontational. He's the sweetest man to walk this earth."Flemister lived in the same West Loop building as his niece, in the unit right below hers. When police called to tell her about the shooting, she didn't believe them. She ran to knock on his door, which he kept open when he was home for anyone who wanted to stop by. She knew something was wrong when she found the door locked."I don't even know how I'm gonna survive," she said. Sabrina Holton, the niece of John Flemister, speaks at a gathering in her uncle’s honor. Holton and Flemister lived in the same West Loop building. She says his door was always open to welcome visitors.Zubaer Khan/Sun-Times Exchange of gunfireThe shooting occurred just after 6 p.m. Saturday on a pedestrian bridge in the 400 block of South Peoria Street, Chicago police said.John Gorey was walking his dogs near the bridge when he saw three people arguing. He told the Sun-Times he could not tell if there was any animosity. The argument continued for several minutes, then Gorey heard loud pops. He said he turned and saw a younger man, who appeared to be wearing a neon CTA vest, firing shots at Flemister."He was probably about 5 feet away from the victim, and he was just firing shot after shot after shot," Gorey told the Sun-Times.Police reported there was "an exchange of gunfire" between Flemister and the 24-year-old gunman. Flemister was struck in his head and taken to Stroger Hospital, where he was pronounced dead.The 24-year-old remained at the scene and was taken into custody. As of Monday afternoon, he had not been charged. Candles and flowers are placed in memory of John Flemister near the site of his death. Zubaer Khan/Sun-Times ‘Just a gentle, kind soul’Neighborhood residents rattled by the shooting were shocked to learn that Flemister was the victim."If you run into John, you could not have a bad day," Jody Persky a resident of one of Flemister’s buildings, told the Sun-Times. "Just a gentle, kind soul. There's so many people that he touched in such a big way."Persky said Flemister was always going above and beyond what was asked of him, and sometimes she would have to remind him to stop working when his shift was done."He always was trying to do something good, helpful," Persky said.Earlier Monday, Butler said he had no idea what could have led to Saturday's attack. He said Flemister was like family to everyone in the neighborhood. "He's just one of those guys that just didn't seem to have a bad bone in his body," Butler told the Sun-Times. "Just one of those people that you would think nothing bad would ever happen to. We're just devastated. He just turned 61, and he deserved to be retired and enjoying life." Bruce Butler, who lives in the West Loop building where John Flemister worked as a doorman, read Maya Angelou’s poem “When Great Trees Fall” at a gathering Monday. “We’re just devastated. He just turned 61, and he deserved to be retired and enjoying life,” Butler told the Sun-Times.Zubaer Khan/Sun-Times Flemister’s twin sister, Janice Flemister, said her brother had other close calls in the city in recent years and was almost robbed several times."Chicago needs to do something, because it's a struggle, day in and day out, for all of us working people trying to go to work and the things that we endure," Janice Flemister told the Sun-Times. "He had dodged death several times."Flemister was an Army veteran who was born and raised in the city and had worked in the West Loop and downtown areas for many years, his sister said. Related Find out about crime in your neighborhood and your city. He did not have children of his own but helped raise his sister and his niece’s children. He bought a popcorn machine and mini golf green for the kids to use at his home, and his door was always open."He had no kids. He wasn't married, but he took to other people's kids," Janice Flemister said. "He was just a workaholic, and he just took pride in what he did for his job, and he loved his family."His care extended beyond family, to other young people who grew up in the Bronzeville neighborhood as he helped raise those kids, according to his nephew, Richard Flemister, who joined the vigil by video call from Brooklyn, New York. He said Flemister was a "father figure" to him and was the reason he joined the Navy."He touched a lot of lives and was a positive influence on a lot of young individuals in the community I was raised in," Richard Flemister told the Sun-Times. "He's a hero to a lot of people in my community. He's my hero." ...read more read less