Sometimes there just aren’t any words that can do it justice.
When the majority of folks from Hattiesburg and George County went to bed June 11, it seemed like a normal evening. There were reports of a heavy police presence at an apartment complex near the campus of Southern Miss, but I, along with many, I’d wager, didn’t put too much thought into it before resting our head on the pillow.
We should have.
When we woke up, the pain upon hearing the news was visceral. M.J. Daniels – a son, a teammate and a friend to many – was gone.
Around 9 p.m. that night, officials said Daniels was sitting in his car outside of his apartment complex where he was shot and pronounced dead on-scene. The Hattiesburg Police Department announced Friday that three teenagers – aged 18, 17 and 16 – were arrested and charged with murder and attempted carjacking, among other things.
Kids. Committing murder? Taking an innocent life all for a car?
When my dad called me just before 8 a.m. that Wednesday morning to deliver the bad news, utter shock. Disbelief. How could this happen? Why would this happen?
To many, Daniels was an uber-talented defensive back. He played just about every skill position you could play in high school, and he may have even been a better baseball player than a football player. He started his collegiate career at Ole Miss where he stayed for two seasons before transferring to Southern Miss ahead of his junior year, where he tied for the team lead in interceptions with three. He had reportedly had a strong spring in Hattiesburg and was gearing up for one last ride in the black and gold.
To me, M.J. was an old buddy.
My dad and his dad, Marcus Daniels, have been friends for as long as I can remember, so there were plenty of interactions between us despite our two-grade gap. In my last year playing baseball at the Little League level, I was on a team spearheaded by M.J. It was the most fun I remember having in a season.
I had played on an all-star team for a few seasons, but a falling out between my parents and the coaches meant my days on that squad were over with. That was fine in my eyes, and I appreciated that time even more so after getting to team up with M.J. It’s not like we were world beaters or anything, but we were solid. And we had a good time doing it. I was the catcher, and he was an infielder and a pitcher who had the tools but was still developing them. When he needed a mound visit to catch his breath, it always felt like I was talking to a little brother.
After that season ended, we went our separate ways, of sorts. I was well into middle school while he was two grades behind me. By the time he made the varsity football team his 10th grade year and my senior year, we may not have been as close, but he was the same old M.J. Always friendly, always with a smile.
One of the things I regret – not that I had a choice in the matter – was not being able to cover him at Southern Miss. By the time he and fellow Lucedale native Dylan Lawrence transferred from in-state SEC schools, my time as a student journalist was already done. I had agreed in principle to come to the C-P, but I do wish I was able to spend a season around M.J. again. It feels like a missed opportunity that never had an opportunity to happen to begin with.
I can’t imagine what Marcus and the rest of his family is going through. Parents are expected to be buried by their children, not the other way around. He had his whole life ahead of him. He was one year away from getting a college degree. A split-second decision by what I can only call a group of thugs cost a young man his future. His life.
Even though we hadn’t spoken in years, it felt like I lost a relative June 11. Everyone who ever met him was better for it. We’ll miss you, M.J. ‘Til next time.
