The Metropolitan Nashville Police Department ruled it a murder-suicide, concluding that Kazemi shot McNair four times - twice in the head - in the early morning hours of July 4, most likely while he was sleeping on the couch of his rented condo. Twitter wasn't a factor yet, but there were plenty of media outlets to feed off of the stunning story of a Tennessee football hero killed by 20-year-old Sahel Kazemi, a woman with whom he'd been having an affair. Here was an NFL quarterback one season into retirement, a former co-MVP and a Super Bowl participant, murdered. The enormity of his death cannot be overstated. Steve McNair was born on Valentine's Day, and he died on the Fourth of July.
"Mama," Mechelle asked, "do you think it's true?"
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When news of his death flashed on the TV screen, Cartwright rushed through the house to Mechelle's room. Years ago, after Cartwright lost her own husband, Steve had told her to pack her bags and come live with them. Her mother, Melzena Cartwright, saw the news on TV. She got on the elliptical machine, hoping some exercise would get rid of the headache.
She noticed her husband wasn't home and made a number of phone calls trying to find him. She stood up, the pain radiated from the right side of her skull, and she had to lie back down. On the morning of July 4, 2009, Mechelle McNair woke up with a crushing headache. "I look at Tyler," she says, "and he knows exactly what his passion is. It surprises her and forces her to ask the inevitable question: Who am I when my kids are grown and gone? He says she needs to go out more, to have fun sometimes. They hug, and Tyler wants to tell her something before she goes back home to Tennessee. The boxes are unpacked, the dorm room is clean, and there is nothing else to do but say goodbye. They carry pieces of Steve, from Tyler's mannerisms to the way Trent calls people "Buddy." But now one of them is leaving, and Mechelle is just trying not to lose it. She already had two men in her in life: Tyler, 19, and Trent, who just turned 14. She was slow to trust after her husband's death and never remarried. Mechelle is 45 now, and she does not look old enough to be dropping a son off at college. In the worst times, she kept both of her little boys beside her in bed, where she could keep them close and safe. She once took him on a girlfriends-only trip to the Bahamas, and if anyone took issue with it, well, tough. In happy times, they belted out SWV songs in Mechelle's little, red, two-seater Mercedes, his tiny head bobbing to the music. Tyler tells her everything, even the stuff that can get him grounded. Maybe they would have been anyway, had Steve McNair not been killed. Nine years after Mechelle McNair's world caved in, her oldest son, Tyler, is going to NYU on an academic scholarship. But this moment in front of the school is a good one. He'd handled everything - the bills, the taxes, the boys' baseball swings - until it was just her. He probably wouldn't have spent most of the summer dreading this moment, standing in front of a college dorm, trying not to cry. Her husband would have done things differently. For more, watch E:60's story, "Heir McNair," on Sunday at 9 a.m.