I hadn't heard anything about this yet, so as a Ball State alum imagine my surprise! One of my brothers was acutally a Ball State cop for awhile, and I know he went through extensive training.
The Delta Chi's were our next door neighbors, and I was good friends with a lot of them. I was back for Homecoming just a month ago, and it was sad to see their house sitting there empty.
Anyway, I copied a couple of stories from today's Ball State Daily News.
Members of a disbanded fraternity come together to celebrate brother's life
DN PHOTO / DANNY GAWLOWSKI
PALLBEARERS carry Michael McKinney's casket out of St. Vincent De Paul's Catholic Church after his funeral. McKinney was buried in a cemetary two blocks away.
Melissa Skopelja | Staff Reporter
November 13, 2003
They saw the face of their brother Michael McKinney one last time -- resting in a casket, wearing a Notre Dame sweatshirt.
Guns and Roses' rendition of "Knockin' on Heaven's Door" played across the flower-flooded funeral home as members of Delta Chi, as well as other Ball State students, stood in the rain waiting to say goodbye to their friend.
"Whenever you saw Mike smile, you couldn't help but smile too," McKinney's friend Sean Slain said.
After leaving the crowded viewing in McKinney's home town of Bedford, Delta Chi members and friends drove through pouring rain and lightning-streaked skies to a house on Lake Monroe.
One blue pick-up truck had the words "R.I.P. Mike 11-08-03" taped on the back window.
"Basically with this situation you need to get everyone together and become one again as a fraternity," Slain said. Slain's parents let him borrow the lake house Tuesday night so everyone could ride to McKinney's funeral together on Wednesday morning.
The fraternity was suspended by the university earlier this year.
"This is a sign of integrity for the Greek system," junior Jim Campbell said. "The bond still stands and you still care about your brother."
Before the line of cars headed to Bedford on Tuesday night, members of Delta Chi collected some of McKinney's belongings to give to his family.
Some of his personal items included two pairs of aviator glasses, a Delta Chi sweatshirt, his cologne and a picture of McKinney with his old dog named Speckles.
"The important things that meant a lot to him, we wanted to give to (McKinney's parents)," Campbell said as he delicately folded the Delta Chi
sweatshirt.
After the viewing, members of Delta Chi relived the antics of McKinney over drinks, card games, smokes and one of McKinney's signature habits -- chewing tobacco.
Some of the members hadn't seen each other in years. But no one would have known by the instant cohesion seen as they reflected on who Mike McKinney was and what he meant to them.
Members of Delta Chi laughed, cried, fought tears and performed imitations of McKinney.
Senior Scott Clark said McKinney bought everyone's Christmas gifts at the beginning of October.
"He would do anything for anyone," senior Rich Lentz said.
Besides being a fan of Notre Dame, McKinney was also a Cincinnati Reds fan.
Sophomore Scott Stars recalled a time when McKinney and other Delta Chi members went to a Cubs and Reds game in Cincinnati earlier this year.
"McKinney was heckling the Cubs fans," Stars said. "It was really funny."
Junior Pat Edger said McKinney acted as the middle man when he and another member disagreed. Edger said after McKinney died, he and the other member talked for the first time in months.
"(McKinney) has a really sensitive side too," Edger said.
His friends also reminisced about McKinney's dedication to his Halloween costume. McKinney shaved his head to look like George Costanza from Seinfeld.
Junior Mike Stumpe yelled out over the group, "Can't stand ya!"
Friends of McKinney laughed about the time they went to the Bahamas.
The group of friends fought excitedly over the rap music to claim the exact line McKinney would use on the beaches to make fun of his short and pale figure.
Throughout all of the memories shared between the group, one theme was common.
"The reason we are here now is to celebrate his life," sophomore Kyle Hayes said. "(McKinney) wouldn't have wanted it any other way."
BURYING A BROTHER
Those sitting in the crowded pews under the tall vanilla ceiling of St. Vincent De Paul Church mostly had college-aged faces, with Delta Chis sprinkled among the mourners. A few were crying. A few were sitting in disbelief. And a few were the pallbearers.
McKinney's fraternity brothers watched patiently as he, who they said had "an amazing laugh," was carried slowly past them.
The ears of Delta Chis perked up as they heard Katie McKinney, Michael McKinney's sister, speak.
"We need you to tell the world that he was a good boy," Katie McKinney said in a strangled voice.
Once the memorial was over, Delta Chi members walked slowly through the walnut door entrance and into the gray skies.
In an unspoken agreement, the brothers walked together in small groups toward the cemetery.
The Delta Chis were watched by elementary school students as they passed McKinney's grade school St. Vincent De Paul Catholic Church. The markee read, "Mikey, We'll miss you."
Walking silently, dressed in suits and ties, Delta Chis walked down the black-top pavement that bordered the hundreds of graves resting on leaf-littered rolling hills. They could see a blue canopy next to a large oak tree in the distance.
McKinney's family waited patiently for those who knew their son as a friend.
Senior Scott Clark began to hand out white carnations, the Delta Chi flower, to fellow members.
The fraternity, surrounded by others who loved McKinney, stood in silence as they listened to the final farewells.
Members slowly began to form a single-file line leading to McKinney.
One by one the Delta Chi brothers set their carnations on top of the wooden casket while lightly touching its surface.
The sun was now shining through the clouds.
As the line of 40 or so members passed, each member was greeted with a warm embrace from a brother.
Almost instinctively, a wreath of brothers holding hands took shape around the brother who "could make anyone laugh."
Members with tear-stained faces sang the praise of the "dear old Delta Chi."
After the tribute, McKinney's family began to leave.
"Thank all of you," Tim McKinney, Michael McKinney's father, said. "God Bless all of you."
Members trickled away from the grave site slowly, making jokes and trying to keep each other's spirits high. Some began to chew tobacco.
A caretaker dressed in overalls approached the scene to lower the golden vault into the ground.
Several Delta Chi members waited to see him lowered.
As the caretaker began to shut the vault, Ball State alumnus and Delta Chi member Ben Brooks asked him to stop.
He reached his hand delicately into the two-inch vault opening.
"I'll miss you," Brooks said. "You were a great friend. I love you."
As they said their final good-byes, Campbell walked away from the small group to gather a handful of dirt and sprinkled it into his friend's grave.
DN PHOTO / DANNY GAWLOWSKI
STUDENTS from St. Vincent De Paul Catholic School in Bedford line up along the street as Michael McKinney's funeral motorcade passes by en route to the cemetary. The school is where McKinney went grade school.
Jon Seidel | Managing Editor
November 13, 2003
BEDFORD -- On a tree branch near a lake hidden somewhere in Lawrence County, a fishing line hangs in a bunch.
The line hanging there belongs to Michael S. McKinney. He left it one of the many times he went fishing there. His friends noticed it Wednesday as they stood by the lake and talked about old times, drinking beers and smoking cigarettes deep in the woods. They had just come from his funeral.
"This is purely Mikey," his best friend Justin Gilbert said. "With a cooler of beer and some nightcrawlers."
Nearby, Brian Mickish chimed in. "You don't even need the nightcrawlers."
Four days ago, McKinney's family called Gilbert and told them everything they knew: McKinney had been killed and a police officer was somehow involved. Gilbert started making phone calls himself. Later, as he stood by the lake, he had just finished burying his best friend. Mickish and about 10 others -- members of the old high school gang -- joined him there. It had been a while since they all had gotten together, they said.
McKinney's death brought them all back this week -- back from their jobs and back from school. They came back from the things that had drawn them apart since graduation because suddenly there was one of them they would never see again. After the funeral, they all met at Gilbert's house and trekked out in a caravan to the old stomping grounds.
To remember Mikey.
LOOKING BACK
McKinney moved to Bedford two years ago. Before that, he lived in the neighboring town of Oolitic. That's where Gilbert and many of the others live.
That's where they say it all began, in the basement of the house where McKinney lived for 14 years. On any given holiday or weekend, the yard would be lined with cars.
Wednesday evening, the cars came back. The new owners let them see it again.
"I haven't been here since," Gilbert said.
The gang knocked on the door. The owner sent them around the back of the tan house -- it used to be red -- and let them in.
Gilbert looked around.
"Wow, that's really different."
There was new carpet. There were new pictures on the wall -- a soldier instead of IU and Notre Dame memorabilia. Holiday decorating was in progress, but it was still cleaner than it had ever been before.
"The door even works," Jeff Tillett said. "That's bull."
The gang used to try to hit golf balls into the pool. One time McKinney accidentally broke a window.
"Sometimes he wasn't the greatest golfer," Alex Luchauer said.
The house was always the meeting point for the gang, even McKinney wasn't home.
"His parents kept his door unlocked," Luchauer said.
They talked about all of this as they stood outside thinking about McKinney.
"We're going to start spending more time together," Tillett said. "It's going to bring us closer."
FINDING EACH OTHER
Gilbert looked up.
"Time to face my fear."
He was about to climb a 13-story fire tower. The last time he was there it was at night -- when you can't see the ground beneath you.
And he was with his friend -- who started shaking it.
"He knew I was scared of heights," Gilbert said. "It took me 10 minutes to get up the damn thing."
The top of the steel tower is an eight-by-eight room. The gang could see all of Lawrence County from there.
And the sign at the bottom prohibiting alcohol didn't deter them.
"We got really drunk," Gilbert said.
Usually, they would go up there just to talk. Wednesday after the funeral, they talked about McKinney.
"Mikey always knew when it was time to be serious or when to be fun," Tillett said. "He was always there to ease the moment. That was Mikey."
The gang would go to places like the fire tower because there was nothing else to do in town.
"All of our stuff was just to be friends and hang out," Mickish said. "We just found each other and hung out. We didn't even need alcohol."
TIME TO GET TO FISHIN'
McKinney couldn't stand to eat fish.
"I always thought that was funny," Gilbert said.
That's because McKinney loved to go fishing. Of all the media reports that talked about how McKinney only got upset when he was watching sports, Gilbert said something was left out.
"They failed to mention if he got a little fish," Gilbert said. "It was always a contest."
McKinney liked to compete, but he also enjoyed the surroundings. He'd skip school to go fishing sometimes, his friends said, coming back the next day with tan lines where his sunglasses had been. McKinney loved everything about the woods -- almost.
"He was terrified of snakes," Gilbert said, pointing next to him. "He ran from that spot up the hill in five seconds."
For some people, it was the first time they had been to that lake. Not all of McKinney's friends were fishers, but Gilbert intends to make sure they start.
"We're gonna get to fishin'," Gilbert said.
They'll do it one man short. But, like the fishing line bundled up in the tree, there is plenty to remind them of him.
"He's probably got some lures hanging around here."
LAST BASH
At the end of the day, a few of them stopped at a spot near McKinney's old home. They used to go camping there. Not with tents and campfires -- more like with trucks and beers.
It was where Gilbert and McKinney were first taught to shoot guns. There were a lot of good times there.
McKinney brought them all out there once right before they graduated from high school. They were all about to leave for college. He was about to pledge Delta Chi.
"Everybody was getting ready to go in completely different directions," Luchauer said. "He just wanted to make sure that we knew that he cared."
After that, it was time to go home.
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