She explained that she had reached out to his agent hoping someone could intervene quickly, but was advised to contact Kneeland directly. That only intensified her fear. She knew Marshawn better than anyone. She knew when something was wrong. And she recognized the signs — the danger — in his words.
A Race Against Time Through the Streets of Frisco
Officers located Marshawn’s car shortly after the call — but he did not stop. The lights, the sirens, the commands through the loudspeaker… none of it changed the course of the night. A pursuit began. Moments later, the vehicle crashed. The silence afterward was chilling. Search teams fanned out, scanning the area, checking ditches, construction zones, wooded patches, anything that could hide someone in distress.
Their flashlights cut through the darkness as officers rushed, hoping they weren’t already too late. Eventually, they found him. Inside a portable toilet near the crash site. He had died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. He was pronounced dead shortly after 1:30 a.m. An entire future, gone in an instant. A child, yet unborn, left without a father. A young woman, left holding a grief far heavier than she could have imagined.
