Family fights for Chiefs fan wrongly accused in parade shooting

OLATHE, Kansas — “Is everything OK?” Denton Loudermill Jr. texted his attorney the morning of April 10. Loudermill would check in like that when the weight of everything got too heavy. But LaRonna Lassiter Saunders was on the road and knew she would have to carve out some time for him. She’d call him later.

For Lassiter Saunders, sometimes it felt as if she was more like Loudermill’s therapist than his attorney. She knew he was just trying to navigate a life that had been upended on the afternoon of Feb. 14, 2024 — the day of the Kansas City Chiefs’ Super Bowl LVIII victory parade and rally.

Loudermill, a 49-year-old father of three, was so excited about his team’s back-to-back titles that he had donned a red hoodie and matching sweatpants for the event. Then, in an area near where Loudermill happened to be celebrating, an argument broke out that led to gunfire. A local radio host, Lisa Lopez-Galvan, was killed and 22 people were injured in the Chiefs’ Super Bowl parade shooting. Police briefly detained Loudermill in the chaos that followed near Union Station, and onlookers snapped photos of him handcuffed and seated on a curb.

In a matter of moments, his life was thrown into the social media woodchipper. An image appeared online and caught the attention of news-seekers, and eventually politicians, who in the hours after the shooting labeled him as everything from the gunman to an “illegal” immigrant.

The fact that police released Loudermill a short time later did not make the social media rounds, but the photo of him in handcuffs did. And the man who was outgoing and social, who constantly struck up conversations with strangers, became a pariah — falsely accused of being the shooter.

Searches of “Chiefs parade shooter” on X revealed various photos of Loudermill’s detainment. At the time of this publication, a New York City tabloid social media account still has a picture of him in handcuffs and flanked by police officers.

Loudermill tried to return to his everyday life but could not escape the glare.

“‘They got my face all over the news,'” Lassiter Saunders recalled Loudermill telling her shortly after the shooting. “‘I’m just a light-skinned brother that was trying to enjoy my Chiefs.'”

She figured the best way to combat the misinformation was to set the record straight in every possible venue, and within days of the shooting, they appeared on CNN, “Inside Edition” and the local TV stations in Kansas City. It didn’t seem to help.

Loudermill became withdrawn and paranoid, and eventually he was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress.

“He thought people were following him,” said one of his sisters, Reba Paul.

He wanted an apology, and when he didn’t get it, he sought justice in the form of lawsuits. He clung to those calls and meetings with Lassiter Saunders, waiting for something or someone to clear his name. She reminded him these things take time.

On the morning of April 11, Lassiter Saunders was about to call Loudermill back to update him on what was happening. Mostly, she wanted to reassure him. But before she could dial, his sister rang in. She told Lassiter Saunders that Loudermill had been found dead. Paul had just been to his house, and saw him lying on the living room floor near the couch.

The autopsy would take months, but during that time, his siblings remained resolved to stand up for their brother and to do what they could to clear his name. The last year of Loudermill’s life is a story of how quickly misinformation can spread — and how slowly, if ever, the truth breaks through.

Through it all, his family remains convinced of one thing: They lost Denton Loudermill Jr. the day of that parade.

ABOUT 1 MILLION people gathered on Valentine’s Day 2024 to revel in Kansas City’s second straight Super Bowl championship, and for Loudermill, the day was supposed to be cathartic. It was the one-year anniversary of the death of his father, Denton Sr., who was also an avid Chiefs fan. It had been a hard year and a half for the family — Loudermill’s mother died in September 2022 — and his siblings said he often talked about how much he missed her.

He rode to downtown Kansas City that Wednesday morning with his brother, Quincy, and sister, Stephanie Fairweather. They had walked a long distance to get to their spot, and after taking in the festivities for about an hour, Fairweather figured that was enough. She was tired, and told Loudermill she was leaving with Quincy. But the parade wasn’t over, and Loudermill wanted to stay.

“Don’t worry about me,” he told her. “I’ll be all right. I built these streets.”

Loudermill was having fun with a million new friends, drinking and socializing with just about anybody. This was normal for him, Fairweather said. “Everybody loves him. He likes to talk and play with everyone.”

Shortly after 11 a.m., the open-top double-decker buses loaded with Chiefs players rolled through the two-mile parade route lined by fans, some of whom had camped out the night before. People climbed trees and street poles or stood on rooftops for better views. Kansas City Public Schools canceled classes for the occasion.

Following the parade, fans assembled outside Union Station for a rally that kicked off just before 1 p.m. Players gave victory speeches, and tight end Travis Kelce sang Garth Brooks’ “Friends in Low Places.”

At 1:48 p.m., the rally ended with a final burst of confetti. Less than a minute later, police said, the sound of gunfire was heard on the west side of the stage near Union Station — which was the site of the 2023 NFL draft. According to court documents, the gunfire erupted after one group confronted another for staring at them. Local radio host Lisa Lopez-Galvan was killed and 22 people ages 8 to 47 were injured, police said.

Jackson County prosecutors said three men were arrested in connection with the shooting: Lyndell Mays, Dominic Miller and Terry Young. All three face charges of felony murder and two counts of armed criminal action. Mays is also charged with unlawful use of a weapon and causing a catastrophe, while Miller faces an additional charge of unlawful use of a firearm. Young is also charged with unlawful use of a weapon.

In the moments after the shooting, Loudermill called his sister to tell her what happened. He told Paul he thought a child was shot.

Paul told ESPN that her brother was “a little intoxicated, just like everybody else was down there,” but not slurring or “talking crazy.” She heard police in the background telling him to move, so she told him to “just get out of the way” before his phone went dead.

She tried calling him back and assumed he’d return the call, even joking to herself, “He’ll call me from jail.”

Police said that as officers tried to clear the area, help the injured and get emergency crews through, they briefly detained Loudermill and handcuffed him to prevent interference. No criminal charges were filed, and he wasn’t arrested — but the photo of him sitting on the curb, in handcuffs, was enough for a story to suddenly play out on the public stage.

“He just thought people were taking pictures, you know, because there was a shooting,” Lassiter Saunders said.

As news of the violence broke nationally, social media posts homed in on Loudermill. On X, the account of U.S. Rep. Tim Burchett, R-Tenn., posted a photo of Loudermill in handcuffs. “One of the Kansas City Chiefs victory parade shooters has been identified as an illegal alien,” it said. The accounts of Missouri state senators Rick Brattin and Denny Hoskins, now Missouri’s secretary of state, reposted on X a photo of Loudermill with text that identified him as 44-year-old Sahil Omar, an “illegal immigrant.” Both state senators’ accounts shared a post by @DeepTruthIntel, a handle that no longer exists. Both accounts tagged then-President Joe Biden and implied that his open-border policies contributed to the crime.

Loudermill was born and raised in Olathe, Kansas.

Multiple media outlets have reported that the name Sahil Omar is fake, and that the description previously has been used on social media with similarly false claims about other violent acts.

The post on Burchett’s page has since been deleted, and eventually the account posted that he misidentified Loudermill as being an “illegal alien” but didn’t retract the statement about him being one of the shooters.

By mid-afternoon the day of the parade, Loudermill’s world — and his sister’s phone — were blowing up. The calls started about 15 minutes after her conversation with her brother dropped. By then the photos were circulating all over social media, with family and friends doing double-takes and sharing the same reaction.

“Every single person that I heard from [said], ‘Oh, I know this is not true,'” Paul said. “He would never do anything like that.”

AFTER AUTHORITIES RELEASED Loudermill, he walked to a Wendy’s to try to find a ride back to his home 30 minutes away in Kansas. He noticed people looking at him, then down at their phones. When Fairweather arrived to pick him up, officers were questioning him again. “We just went through this,” he told them, and then they let him go.

Kansas City police said the department received a call for service about a “suspicious person,” but responding officers determined at Wendy’s that a report was not needed.

His daughters had been at the parade, too, and went to a different restaurant. They were reeling from a call they’d received from their dad about the shooting, his oldest daughter Raven, 24, said, “and then the next thing you know it’s all over the TVs.” Raven’s fears began to snowball. She worked at a school, was a role model for children and everyone in the small town in which she lived knew her and her last name.

“I was very fearful that it would affect my character, where I was from and the people I’m surrounded by,” she said. “I didn’t want them to view me differently and be like, ‘Oh, she was raised by him. Was he the one that did it?’

“I immediately knew my dad would never do that, but other people that don’t know him don’t know that.”

His children described him as a “big old teddy bear” who, before the parade, was always smiling, happy-go-lucky and energetic. He’d take them to Fairview Park, a recreational space near the railroad tracks where he’d hung out since he was young, and play basketball and have cookouts. They’d go to the zoo and Disney on Ice and eat gas-station pizza.

Loudermill loved the Chiefs, sports and making people laugh. The line he used the day of the parade — “I built these streets” — was one of his common sayings. It meant that he’d be fine, that he’d get home, whether it was taking the bus or catching a ride from someone.

His mom nicknamed him “Y-A” after Hall of Fame quarterback Y.A. Tittle, and the name stuck with his siblings. Loudermill valued his time with family and friends.

“He loved his people deeply,” daughter Raven Loudermill said.

His own social media life mainly consisted of Facebook interactions. He posted photos of his family, and often sent his siblings dance videos or memes he thought were funny. Paul said most of those happy Facebook Messenger exchanges stopped after the parade shooting.

His family said Loudermill lived a simple life. He worked at a car wash and often could be seen riding his bike around town. He had a history of legal troubles of his own. In 2016 and 2017, he was booked by the Johnson County Sheriff’s Department on charges including burglary of motor vehicles, misdemeanor theft and felony interference with law enforcement. He also had multiple DUI-related incidents, including a 2020 arrest for driving under the influence and driving with a suspended license. In 2021, he was booked again for a court-ordered commitment related to that DUI case.

“No one said Denton was an angel or didn’t have a past,” Lassiter Sauders said. “But nobody knew Denton — these [politicians] did not know Denton. He didn’t have anything to do with that shooting, and so regardless of what his history was … it had no bearing on what they did and said because they didn’t know him from you or I.

“All of this is hindsight, but it didn’t matter because they picked a random individual, did not check their information and essentially ruined his life.”

THE MISSOURI FREEDOM CAUCUS is part of the State Freedom Caucus Network, a group of Republican state senators across the country who aim to pull the party further to the right. It is described on its X account as being committed to “protecting life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness for Missourians.” The account on X shared the post from @DeepTruthIntel with the photo of Loudermill handcuffed at the parade, falsely claiming he was an illegal immigrant. The X accounts of Hoskins and Brattin, both caucus members at the time, quickly shared the false claim. The caucus later deleted its post and issued a retraction, acknowledging that Loudermill wasn’t the shooter and saying they wanted to clear his name.

At a Feb. 22, 2024, news conference in Jefferson City, Missouri, a Kansas City Star reporter asked Brattin whether he had apologized to Loudermill. “There’s nothing that I even see worth that,” he told reporters.

“We’ve done nothing, and you know, I have no comment,” said Brattin, who didn’t respond to messages from ESPN.

Two lawsuits filed in the U.S. District Court for the Western District of Missouri against Hoskins and Brattin alleged defamation and that Loudermill was falsely identified as an “illegal alien” and a “shooter” at the parade. They originally were filed in Kansas but since refiled in Missouri for jurisdiction reasons.

“They picked a random individual, did not check their information and essentially ruined his life.”

LaRonna Lassiter Saunders

According to the suits, the posts caused Loudermill reputational harm, mental distress and death threats. The complaints sought a minimum of $75,000 each in damages, citing false light invasion of privacy and libel. The lawsuits claimed that the posts were knowingly false, widely shared and unrelated to public concern.

Loudermill also filed a defamation lawsuit in Kansas against Missouri state Sen. Nick Schroer, which was dismissed. It wasn’t refiled in Missouri because, although Schroer’s account reposted the Missouri Freedom Caucus post, it was asking for clarification on the shooter’s identity rather than pointing at Loudermill.

In response to an ESPN request for comment, a communications manager for Hoskins, now Missouri’s secretary of state, said the “matter doesn’t pertain to the scope or duties of the Missouri secretary of state’s office. As such, the office — nor Secretary Hoskins — can or will comment.”

Burchett’s account had posted the same photo of Loudermill, falsely captioned: “One of the Kansas City Chiefs victory parade shooters has been identified as an illegal Alien.” After deleting the post, the account posted a screenshot of the original and wrote: “It has come to my attention that in one of my previous posts, one of the shooters was identified as an illegal alien. This was based on multiple incorrect news reports stating that. I have removed the post.” His correction did not clarify that Loudermill wasn’t involved in the shooting.

The deadline to refile the suit against Burchett passed because of difficulties finding a D.C.-based attorney within the statute of limitations in the jurisdiction, Lassiter Saunders said. But the lawsuits against Brattin and Hoskins were refiled. On Oct. 7, a Missouri judge denied requests by Brattin and Hoskins to have the respective suits against them dismissed.

Burchett is known for inflammatory remarks that become viral. Less than two weeks after the parade shooting, a reporter for the Tennessee Holler, an audience-supported progressive news site, asked Burchett on camera why he didn’t apologize to Loudermill, to which he responded: “Your mother told me, allegedly, that you were the second-biggest disappointment in her life.” In a separate exchange, he mocked a reporter’s question on national security by responding with a “your mother” joke, asking the reporter if he trusts his mother to make his Hot Pockets and charge his Gameboy every night.

Loudermill thought it was important for Burchett to be held accountable because of his larger platform and position as a member of Congress. Burchett’s personal X account currently has more than 350,000 followers, and his congressional account has more than 180,000.

“My brother wasn’t political,” Fairweather said. “He didn’t vote. He wasn’t involved in that, so it has nothing to do with politics or anything other than he was falsely accused.”

On a spring afternoon in the Rayburn House Office Building in Washington, D.C., after a foreign affairs subcommittee hearing, an ESPN reporter approached Burchett to ask about the post. “Call my office,” he responded. His scheduler directed ESPN to the campaign manager, who declined two requests for comment.

The photo of Loudermill decked in the red sweatsuit and handcuffs continued to stalk him. At the car wash where he worked, his family said, Loudermill would watch people drive up, apparently recognize his face and search their phones.

His attorney said some people would sympathize; others would look scared or angry at him. Lassiter Saunders said he was dealing with that “every day, even up until the day he passed.”

In late March, she met Loudermill and his sister Reba Paul at a library in Olathe to give them an update on the case. Lassiter Saunders described Loudermill’s last 14 months as an “emotional rollercoaster.” He lost roughly 25 pounds after the parade shooting and went from despondent to hopeful to hopeless at times, as the lawsuits dragged on with no resolution in sight. The dismissal of the Burchett case, along with his viral quips on social media, were gut punches that sank her client into a deeper abyss.

“So then he’s thinking, ‘These people in power, people with money, can do whatever they want and harm whoever they want,'” she said.

But on that day at the library in late March, Loudermill seemed all right.

She reminded him that the wheels of justice are sometimes slow, but that he hadn’t been forgotten. She told him that they were going to keep fighting. They’d explore everything possible to clear his name and make him whole.

It was their last meeting. A few weeks later, on the last full day of his life, Loudermill sent the early morning text: “Is everything OK?”

THE MEDICAL EXAMINER’S report described an average man: 49 years old, 191 pounds and just over 5 feet, 10 inches. He was dressed in black jeans, a black belt and black shoes and was carrying a black towel, a pair of dice, his driver’s license, a debit card and some loose change.

He was reported to be intoxicated at the time of his death and had been drinking “in excess” the previous two days.

According to autopsy and toxicology reports from the Johnson County medical examiner’s office, Loudermill died accidentally from cocaine, synthetic marijuana and alcohol. Heart disease and long-term alcohol use were listed as contributing factors.

The report said Loudermill had a documented history of post-traumatic stress and depression, but no signs of suicidal intent. At autopsy, early composition and contusions on his forehead and arms also were noted.

The fact that he had drugs in his system surprised Paul. The presence of alcohol didn’t.

“We had been down this road before with the alcohol,” she said, “and they had given him medication that made him not like the taste of alcohol, and then he quit. He ended up back drinking again, but then he had said he wanted help.

“It was really troubling for me, because I was like, he was really trying to escape. He’s trying to escape all of these feelings, you know, the loss of mama, the loss of daddy, and then this stuff and people thinking that he’s — I mean, imagine somebody thinking that you’re a killer.”

Earlier this year, he decided he was ready to get help for his mental health. He started to get counseling in March. Paul said her brother was undergoing lab work to determine what medicine would work best.

On April 10, Paul picked him up from work. Her grandkids were in the car, and they went to McDonald’s because Loudermill wanted ice cream. She’s glad they had that time together, bantering about how he got shorted on his ice cream.

For a year, she had looked for signs of the old Denton and had tried to encourage him to leave his house and be more social. His favorite rapper, Too Short, was coming to a festival in Kansas City in late June, and over the winter, she’d asked him to go. He said no. “Too many people,” he would say.

But on that day they went to McDonald’s, he told her he wanted to go to the concert. It surprised her and gave her hope that after three weeks of therapy, maybe her old brother was coming back. He had an appointment with his therapist scheduled for the following day — the day they found him dead.

Now, Paul’s life is full of wondering. If Denton had gotten help a few months earlier, would it have made a difference? Would he be here, his old self, riding his bike around the neighborhood, stopping to talk to everybody? Their grandfather is a pastor, she said, and when she’s lost in these questions, she tells herself that God doesn’t make mistakes. She said God called her brother home.

Loudermill’s memorial service in May was a barbeque at Fairview Park in Olathe with his family and friends. He would have turned 50 on June 8 and was supposed to have a birthday party in the park with his favorites — ribs, hamburgers, chicken, pork and no vegetables.

The family served that food at the memorial and asked mourners to wear red or “anything Chiefs-themed to show your spirit and honor one of the biggest fans we’ve ever known.”

Lassiter Saunders, dressed in a long-sleeved red shirt and matching pants, took in the scene as the trains rumbled by on a bright Saturday afternoon.

She’d been in frequent touch with family members since his death but waited to ask about the lawsuits against the two Missouri senators. If they wanted to drop them, she said, she understood. That was Denton’s fight.

They wanted to press on, and in August, Loudermill’s estate was substituted for Denton’s name in the lawsuits, which were filed in District Court for the Western District of Missouri.

“We can’t let them get away with this,” Paul told her.

A few weeks later, the Kansas City Chiefs’ season started without one of their biggest fans from Olathe.

Paul, who owns a cookie shop in town, thinks about her brother every time she makes peanut butter cookies — Denton’s favorite — or when a family birthday or milestone is celebrated in a muted form. For years, the siblings and their families would gather at Paul’s house on Autumn Sundays to watch the Chiefs, with massive spreads of food and card games, and Loudermill’s booming voice reverberating throughout the house.

But now those gatherings are over. It’s too hard, Paul said, and too much of a reminder of what they’ve lost. In late September, the Chiefs faced the Baltimore Ravens — one of their biggest AFC rivals — on a Sunday night. Paul and her husband, Mark, watched the Chiefs win in a quiet, empty room.

“He was bigger than life, and he was literally everywhere,” Paul said. “So it’s like his memories are everywhere.

“It’s not the same at all.”