HE once built properties. Now he sells them, challenges the industry that pays him, and believes Jamaica risks pricing out its own people. But who is Dean Jones, and what gives him the right to question the system?

The founder of Jamaica Homes, Jones confronts eight uncomfortable questions about money, privilege, racism, ambition, and the island that shaped him.

Q: Has Jamaica’s property market become a playground for the wealthy while ordinary Jamaicans are being pushed out?

A: Yes, increasingly, but the picture is complicated. Jamaica is a global brand: America has strategic interests, China is investing, Europe is watching, and the Diaspora is returning.

Developers follow money — that’s business. But who’s building for the nurse, police officer, teacher, or young couple earning Jamaican wages? Jamaica faces an estimated shortage of 150,000 homes. A generation is being priced out.

I respect the National Housing Trust but it cannot solve this alone. Government must demand more from development. I’ve worked on regeneration projects in Britain. We planned housing alongside schools, employment, transport, and infrastructure.

Here, we sometimes celebrate a thousand new houses without asking where those families will work. We need master planning, not just master bedrooms.

Q: Aren’t real estate agents part of the problem? You earn more when prices rise.

A: Yes. Some are. We don’t set the market, but we can influence it. And when our income depends on a sale, integrity matters.

Most work honestly but unrealistic valuations, inflated asking prices, and agents encouraging sellers to chase imaginary money do nobody any favours.

An agent should advise, not manipulate. I’ve worked in construction, development and strategic projects; I understand the economics. My job is to sell property, not sell fantasies.

Q: Are overseas Jamaicans helping price their own people out of Jamaica?

A: Sometimes, yes. But don’t you dare make them the villains.

I was born in Britain, a descendant of the Windrush generation, and grew up between two worlds. During the 1980s and 1990s, seeing another Jamaican in Britain often meant an instant nod of recognition. We understood something without speaking.

Many overseas Jamaicans spent decades working, sacrificing, and feeling they never quite belonged. When they finally build that big house in St Mary or St Ann, sometimes it isn’t showing off, it’s proof they survived. Those houses employ Jamaican builders, electricians and plumbers, and the economic contribution is enormous. Jamaica received approximately US$3.49 billion in gross remittances in 2025.

But, overseas purchasing power can overwhelm local wages. We need housing opportunities protected for ordinary Jamaicans without punishing the Diaspora for investing in home. Jamaica can welcome the world without abandoning Jamaicans.

Q: You’ve built a successful career in Britain. What makes you think you understand the struggles of ordinary Jamaicans?

A: Because success doesn’t erase where you came from. I remember riding in my grandfather’s pickup, running along Hellshire Beach, chasing lizards, bottling peenie wallies, and eating sugar cane on family land in Guy’s Hill, St Mary.

I was here for Hurricane Gilbert. I witnessed the devastation it left behind. I heard gunshots at election time. I saw poverty and the painful divide between those with everything and those with almost nothing.

My roots reach into Maroon country. My great-grandfather patrolled those mountains on horseback as a police officer. Duty and resilience ran through the family.

Britain gave me opportunities. Jamaica gave me roots. I know what it feels like to belong to two places without always feeling completely at home in either. You can sit in the boardroom without forgetting the dirt road.

Q: Let’s strip away the titles. Who is Dean Jones really? And how much of your success is ambition, privilege or simply being in the right place?

A: Privilege? I had opportunities, but I wasn’t born into wealth. We weren’t poor, but money was sometimes tight. At 13 I was delivering newspapers to earn my own money. Nobody was rolling out a red carpet for me.

By my teens I’d run a gardening business, traded on market stalls, and ventured into video rentals and computers. I was always looking for the next opportunity.

At 18 I was diagnosed with dyslexia. I was encouraged to lower my academic ambitions. Instead, I paid my way through university, earning a degree, two master’s degrees, and professional qualifications.

JONES…here, we sometimes celebrate a thousand new houses without asking where those families will work

I’ve sat in rooms where very few people looked like me. I’ve worked on major programmes involving Britain’s Parliament, policing, education, and other institutions. I went on to become director of strategic projects at Cranfield University.

In 2021 I was recognised among eight figures celebrating black excellence in Britain’s building industry. But don’t mistake professional success for an easy journey. Racism exists. Class barriers exist. Sometimes you have to be twice as good just to be considered equal. Even then, nothing is guaranteed.

I’ve failed, made expensive mistakes, trusted the wrong people, and started again. I refused to let failure define me.

Faith matters. Family matters. Our ancestors endured too much for us to spend our lives finding excuses.

Jamaicans possess extraordinary talent but sometimes we’re too busy fighting one another to recognise what we could achieve together.

I don’t want people admiring my titles. Titles expire. I want them to understand that somebody can start with very little, take serious knocks, and still become someone the world has to take seriously.

And, I’m not finished.

Q: You profit from the property market you’re criticising. Isn’t that hypocrisy?

A: There’s a contradiction — I’m not hiding from it. I earn commission, I participate in the system, but I didn’t write the rules.

I’ve spent years working in development, regeneration and strategic leadership. I know Jamaica can do better. I’ve been willing, for years, to contribute that experience to national development.

I’d rather be accused of hypocrisy for speaking than rewarded for keeping quiet.

Q: Are we selling Jamaica piece by piece, only to discover one day that it no longer belongs to us?

A: Foreign investment isn’t the enemy. Poor planning is. When land changes hands, what do communities gain beyond the purchase price? Who protects our coastlines, agricultural land and future opportunities?

And let’s talk about ‘dead lef’, family property passed down without proper arrangements. Broken relationships, unresolved estates, and bitter disputes can destroy wealth generations struggled to build.

I’ve seen how easily families lose what grandparents sacrificed to acquire. We need financial literacy, proper estate planning, and a stronger culture of collaboration.

A country doesn’t have to be conquered to lose control of its future. Sometimes it simply sells without thinking.

Q: Can you look a young Jamaican in the eye and honestly tell them they’ll ever own a home?

A: Yes. But I won’t lie about how difficult it is. Life isn’t fair — nobody promised otherwise.

If you’re struggling to eat, don’t let anybody patronise you about giving up morning coffee. But if you have disposable income and spend everything maintaining an image, reconsider your priorities.

Save. Build credit. Find partners. Consider buying land together, with proper legal agreements.

My first house was dreadful. The estate agent was practically embarrassed to show it. Nobody wanted it. I saw opportunity. I used a line of credit towards the deposit and legal fees. Risky? Absolutely. But I understood the numbers. That house doubled in value within two years.

I wouldn’t recommend that borrowing strategy blindly. The lesson wasn’t debt. It was vision.

But determination cannot substitute for fair housing policy. My message to young Jamaicans? Don’t surrender your future.

My message to Government and developers? A generation shouldn’t have to leave Jamaica to afford a future in Jamaica.