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I’ve written quite a few columns about the death of student-athletes over the years.
In 2011, I covered the story of Wes Leonard, the high school basketball player out of Fennville, Mich., who collapsed and died shortly after hitting the game-winning shot that preserved his team’s perfect season.
Later that summer, at least six high school football players across the country died during or after preseason practices. I spoke with one father who told me he dropped his 15-year-old son, Montel Williams, off at practice in Gurdon, Ark., and never saw him live again. At one point during the interview, we both just wept.
None of us know for certain when our time will come. Nevertheless, it is always unnerving when a young person dies. Especially one who excels at sports, because often they are the embodiment of perfect health. Medical examinations revealed that Leonard and Williams each had undiagnosed heart conditions that contributed to their deaths.
The question of why God took them so young may never be answered, but at least their loved ones know the cause of death.
It’s been two weeks since 18-year-old Nolan Wells died, and his parents still don’t know why or how. All they know for certain is he’s not coming home.
The Southwest Mississippi Community College football player went missing after partying with friends on the Fourth of July. His body was found two days later, floating lifeless in the water.
Wells was last seen alive on Horn Island, a thin stretch of land 10 miles off the shore of Mississippi. His parents began to worry about him late that night and tracked his cell to a mainland location — not the island. Wells’ car and his keys were at the home where he and his friends stayed the night before taking the boat trip.
The results from the autopsy conducted by the Jackson County coroner have not been released, and the preliminary independent autopsy commissioned by the family is inconclusive. There was no evidence of fractures or deep tissue injuries. However civil rights attorney Ben Crump, who represents the family, said there was “red discoloration” on the back of Wells’ skull and that foul play can’t be ruled out.
I’ve written quite a few columns about the death of student-athletes. It’s rare for grieving parents asking for an investigation into their child’s death to be seen as political. But because of the location of this story — and the fact Wells was the only Black person seen in any of the footage from that day — political is what this tragedy is. Mississippi politicians — most of them white — have thrown their support behind local authorities while the NAACP questions the reasons an investigation is taking so long.
Why can’t we just grieve the loss of a young life?
Why does everything have to be about race?
Because so much has changed and so much is still changing. In between those two realities are Black parents silently holding the tension between wanting your child to see the world and knowing the world your child wants to see. You see, climbing the socioeconomic ladder and landing somewhere different, economically, than where you started, oftentimes leads to isolation.
This is particularly true for Black Gen Xers, the first generation to integrate universities and corporate America en masse, and thus gained access to more of the country’s resources. Like good schools and a house in the suburbs. Few talk about what you leave behind to get there: your collective. Because more often than not, moving up means moving into spaces that are predominantly white. Sometimes you’re the only one in group photos. Sometimes you’re the only one in school or at the company… the neighborhood… the island.
Explorer Matthew Henson understood something about this long before I did. In 1909, he stood at the top of the world — quite literally, alongside Robert Peary at the North Pole — because he trusted a white man enough to spend two decades traversing the Arctic with him, at a time when doing so meant betting his safety, his dignity and sometimes his life on that trust holding up.
Henson made history. But he also made a calculation that — as a Black parent — haunts me most about Wells’ story. To be “the first one” or “the only one” requires trusting someone who doesn’t share your experience to actually see you when it counts.
No matter what we ultimately find out about what happened July 4 on Horn Island, what will stay with me is this sick feeling that Wells was on an island full of people — and yet found himself alone when it counted most.
YouTube: @LZGrandersonShow
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Ideas expressed in the piece
The piece begins by recalling past cases in which young athletes died suddenly but, after painful waiting, families eventually received clear medical explanations, contrasting those tragedies with the continuing uncertainty surrounding Nolan Wells’ death.
The article describes how Wells, an 18-year-old college football player, disappeared during a Fourth of July trip to Horn Island with friends and was found dead two days later in the water, yet his parents still lack definitive answers about what happened that night.[1][3]
The column notes that a state autopsy has been conducted and that an independent autopsy was commissioned by the family, but emphasizes that early results remain inconclusive, deepening the parents’ anguish over why their son died.[1][4][5]
The piece highlights that civil rights attorney Ben Crump, representing the family, has pointed to details such as discoloration on the back of Wells’ head and has argued that foul play cannot yet be ruled out, reflecting the family’s belief that official explanations so far do not fully account for the circumstances of his death.[4][5]
The column argues that, unlike other student-athlete deaths where heart conditions or other medical issues were eventually identified, Wells’ case is marked by silence and gaps in the narrative: friends returned from the island without him, no one has publicly explained how he became separated from the group, and his parents have had to track his phone and piece together the timeline themselves.[1][2][3]
The article contends that what might otherwise be regarded simply as a tragic loss of a young life has been transformed into a political story because of where it happened and because Wells appears to be the only Black person visible in footage from the outing, with local Mississippi politicians largely backing law enforcement while civil rights organizations question the pace and scope of the investigation.[1][4]
The piece suggests that Black parents live in a constant tension between encouraging their children to explore the wider world and understanding that the world their children want to experience may not always see or protect them in the same way it does their white peers, particularly in spaces where they are “the only one.”
The column links that tension to broader patterns of Black upward mobility, arguing that many Black Gen X professionals who moved into predominantly white schools, workplaces, neighborhoods and social spaces gained access to opportunity but lost the collective support of Black communities that had historically provided a sense of shared understanding and safety.
By invoking Arctic explorer Matthew Henson, who achieved history-making feats while relying on the trust of white counterparts in perilous environments, the piece draws a parallel to Wells’ situation: it argues that being “the first” or “the only” in unfamiliar spaces requires a profound trust that others will truly see one’s vulnerability when it matters most.
Reflecting on Wells’ final hours, the article suggests that what haunts the author is the image of a young man on an island full of people yet, when it counted, effectively alone—an emotional metaphor for what the piece sees as the risks Black youth face when they enter spaces where few, if any, share their lived experience.
Overall, the column argues that the unanswered questions about Wells’ death, combined with the racial dynamics surrounding the investigation, reveal how grief for Black families is rarely just grief: it is often intertwined with fear, isolation and a longstanding mistrust about whether institutions and bystanders will respond with urgency and care when their children are in danger.
Different views on the topic
In contrast to concerns raised in the column, local authorities have repeatedly emphasized that the investigation into Wells’ death is ongoing and that, as of now, the evidence they have collected does not indicate foul play, urging the public to allow time for the process rather than drawing premature conclusions.[1][2][4][5]
Law enforcement officials and state investigators have described Wells’ case as a “death” rather than a homicide inquiry at this stage, noting that they must wait for the full autopsy and toxicology results before determining a final cause of death, a stance that implicitly pushes back against assertions that racial bias is driving inaction.[4][5]
Some officials have indicated that drowning remains the working theory, citing the absence of clear external trauma and the preliminary findings from the state medical examiner, while stressing that the case remains open and that any new evidence will be evaluated as it emerges.[1][2][5]
Authorities have also underscored the scale of the search effort—described by local officials as “all boots on the ground”—as evidence that they took Wells’ disappearance seriously from the outset, a point that counters claims that the response was slow or dismissive because he was Black.[3]
In media interviews, investigators have stated there is “no information” so far to suggest that a crime was committed, framing their position as one grounded in the available facts rather than in speculation, which stands in opposition to narratives that assume malicious intent in the absence of established evidence.[1][2]
Some commentators and officials, including those speaking to public radio and national news outlets, have explicitly warned against the spread of unverified theories about what happened on Horn Island, arguing that such speculation can inflame tensions and politicize a tragedy before the medical examiner and detectives have completed their work.[4][5]
Additionally, by emphasizing that autopsy and toxicology results routinely take weeks and that complex investigations often move slowly, these voices suggest that delays in providing answers to the Wells family reflect procedural realities rather than deliberate obstruction, thereby challenging the column’s implication that the lack of information is itself evidence of deeper racial problems.[1][4][5]
Finally, officials’ insistence that they remain open to any outcome—including accidental drowning or other non-criminal causes—represents a perspective that views Wells’ death primarily as a tragic incident requiring methodical inquiry, not necessarily as a symptom of broader racial isolation or mistrust in majority-white spaces.
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