The Social Media Slaying: How Rapper Julio Foolio Live-Streamed His Own Demise, and the Explosive Evidence Tying a Rival to the Assassination Plot

The courtroom in Tampa has become the stage for a grim and deeply modern tragedy, a stark reminder of the deadly intersection between digital notoriety and street warfare. The trial for the brutal, ambush-style murder of Jacksonville rapper Charles Jones, known to the world as Julio Foolio, is not merely a prosecution of alleged killers; it is a clinical dissection of how a rival gang used social media as a precision weapon to orchestrate a deadly execution.

The first suspect to face justice, Alicia Andrews, is currently at the center of the proceedings, accused of a chilling role in the 2023 slaying. Andrews is charged with first-degree murder and conspiracy, but her alleged crime was one of surveillance and tracking. Prosecutors contend she and her boyfriend, Isaiah Chance, were the critical eyes on the ground, tasked with tailing Foolio across Tampa and feeding his exact location to the trio of men charged with the actual killing: Shawn Gayright, Rashad Murphy, and DaVon Murphy. What has emerged in court documents is a horrifying blueprint of calculated violence, made possible by a fateful, self-inflicted vulnerability: Foolio’s relentless documenting of his every move.

The 37 Fatal Stories: A Birthday Countdown

Foolio’s last weekend was intended as a celebration for his birthday, a time of festivity and public flexing, a staple of modern celebrity culture. Instead, his constant digital presence turned the weekend into a countdown to his demise. Over the course of his birthday night, Foolio posted a staggering 37 Instagram stories, sharing everything from his lavish Airbnb rental to his mood. He broadcast the start of a pool party, inviting followers to “pull up” and DMed the address to numerous contacts. This was his first critical error. Within two hours, the sheer volume of attendees and noise led to police being called, the landlord intervening, and Foolio and his crew being summarily evicted.

The rapper’s response to this setback was not caution, but defiance. He immediately took to Instagram again, posting a promotional poster for a nearby club, complete with the address. Once inside the venue, he committed the unthinkable: sharing his exact position within the building, telling his millions of followers he was headed to the “upstairs lounge.”

Unbeknownst to Foolio, these 37 stories were not just content; they were breadcrumbs for a predatory conspiracy. Simultaneously, an iMessage group chat was active, linking the five suspects. Foolio’s posts were shared in real-time within this chat, with the alleged conspirators noting how close the target was. The chilling spectacle continued as Andrews and her boyfriend allegedly drove down to the club, pulling into the parking lot. In a scene ripped from a spy thriller, the two reportedly used binoculars to look across the street, trying to confirm Foolio’s position while the other three assailants waited nearby in a separate vehicle.

The Shadow of Yungeen Ace and the $10K Bounty

The core message of the ongoing trial has been the clear link between Foolio’s death and the long-running, violent feud between his Six Block group and the rival ATK/1200 gangs, with the name Yungeen Ace being repeatedly brought into the light. Evidence has begun to surface suggesting Ace’s alleged involvement extends far beyond typical rap beef.

Investigators reportedly believe that Yungeen Ace placed a “low-key bounty” on Foolio’s head for this specific night. This belief was dramatically fueled by a social media video from a purported team member outside of Florida who brazenly claimed responsibility for the “smack” (the murder), stating, “I did that, you feel me, ‘cause you know Ace had that money on his head. You know Ace had done put that 10K up.”

Additional digital evidence presented in the trial paints a grim picture of Ace’s alleged mockery and celebration. A picture of a bottle of Don Julio liquor was reportedly sent from Ace to one of the guilty men’s phones the day after the murder. A detective testified that, in the context of the rivalry, this meme represented a direct insult and celebratory taunt to the deceased rapper. Most damningly, only hours after the murder was confirmed, Ace released a diss track titled “Do It,” in which he remixed Foolio’s own lyrics about a past shooting incident, boasting about the details of Foolio’s own death: “four in the car, one of them gone, three got hit on Foolio’s birthday, on the 23rd day of the month.” He was later seen on a live stream, laughing about the passing with his friends, toasting to the situation, cementing the air of ruthless triumph.

The heat from law enforcement on Yungeen Ace has been intense. He was arrested by Jacksonville Beach police around midnight as the trial commenced, and the subsequent cancellation of all his tour dates has been seen by observers as either a preemptive move to prepare for a looming federal case or the state actively limiting his financial income. Jacksonville Sheriff TK Waters even addressed the public, sending a PSA to Ace and his ATK crew, stating, “We are consistently monitoring that group… he can’t move around in Jacksonville without us knowing about it.” In a seemingly desperate attempt to distance himself from the violence as the trial approached, Ace took to social media to declare, “Ain’t no such thing as ATK no more, that stuff is gone and over with.”

Retaliation and the False Truce

The ultimate motive for the ambush, detectives believe, lies in the need for retaliation over the 2022 passing of ATK member ATK Mitch. Foolio had been questioned by police about Mitch’s murder, an interrogation that saw him stick rigidly to the “street code,” denying any knowledge of the crime or the perpetrators, despite detectives pressing him on his lyrics that often mirrored real-life events.

Investigators posit that the rival groups, fully aware of the police focus on the “drill rap” subculture, which uses music to detail violence and name victims, may have played a cynical game. Weeks before the assassination, Foolio had revealed in an interview that he and a rival were supposedly working on a “stop the violence” song—a track intended to bridge the gap and curb the bloodshed “for the kids.” This apparent olive branch, however, is now viewed as a potential strategic maneuver by the ATK side to lull Foolio into dropping his guard, a tactic that worked devastatingly well. Foolio’s subsequent decision to broadcast his entire celebration weekend, in a city not his own, proved he felt safe enough to do so.

The Ambush at the Holiday Inn

After leaving the club, Foolio and his crew relocated to a nearby Holiday Inn, intending to book rooms for the night. This final, vulnerable location was immediately compromised.

Sources claim that as Foolio stood in the parking lot with his crew while his manager went inside to book the rooms, the ambush was deployed. Two cars filled with street members descended on the hotel. One car’s specific purpose was to block the exit, trapping the targets. Simultaneously, another group of individuals, armed with firearms, hopped a nearby bush. Their objective was singular: to locate Foolio and finish the job.

The result was a merciless barrage of fire. At 4:38 AM, three men exited a vehicle, approached the group, and murdered Charles Jones. Miraculously, three other victims who were struck in the hail of bullets survived the incident. Within 15 minutes, news of the shooting and Foolio’s passing had hit the airwaves; 15 minutes later, law enforcement and the public had a clear idea of who was responsible.

The details emerging from the Alicia Andrews trial, from the chilling real-time surveillance to the blatant post-murder mockery, confirm the terrifying nature of modern gang conflict. The era of the “drill rapper” is one where life imitates art, and where a few taps on a phone screen can sign a death warrant. As the Jacksonville Sheriff suggested, the violence has made the city a no-go zone for the participants, stating his aim is to “run them out of town.”

The legacy of Julio Foolio is one of musical promise tragically cut short, but the shocking evidence of his final hours has delivered a profound warning: in the ongoing war between street gangs and the law, the biggest weapon is often the target’s own phone. The trial continues to unveil the chilling depth of a conspiracy that was live-streamed, tracked, and executed with cold, calculating precision.