Rae Carruth’s story isn’t his release, but the son who has survived
There’s more to this story than a heinous murder.
Rae Carruth’s story is a horrifying chapter in NFL history. He was a largely ineffective receiver on a relatively new franchise team who had a woman murdered because she was carrying his child. Carruth’s existence hangs over the city of Charlotte like a cloud. What complicates his tale is that this is a family story, but it’s also become ours.
Cherica Adams did not survive when she was boxed in while driving and shot from a car that pulled up alongside her. Some of her last words were to 911, as she explained that Carruth pulled his car in front of hers, while a second stopped next to her with a gun.
Chancellor Lee Adams survived, an 18-year-old who has cerebral palsy and brain damage as a result of being without oxygen for 70 minutes in the womb when his mother died. Living in the Carolinas means you know Chancellor’s story intimately. Every few years there’s a local news check-in, documenting how he’s is doing and speaking with Saundra Adams, who raised her grandson after the death of her daughter. Always with the kicker to end the story: Carruth is scheduled for release in October of 2018.
For years, 2018 felt so far off. Easy to push to the recesses of your mind. Carruth isn’t this story. He shouldn’t be this story. Carruth’s chapter is one of selfishness and death; his son’s is one of perseverance and life. Now old wounds are being torn open as Carruth’s release plays out in front of the world.
Every team in the NFL has the unspoken jab. Something shameful in the team’s or city’s past that even the most die-hard hater doesn’t mention. To Panthers fans, this is Carruth. His story is not joked about. You will not see any self-respecting rival with a shred of decency ever mention his name.
Sure, you’ll see some edgelord 19-year-old wear an old Carruth jersey to a game at Bank of America Stadium, relishing the negative attention they receive — because that’s the world we live in. But for everyone else, Carruth’s crimes are taboo.
The Panthers always modeled themselves as a family-first organization. A sporting monolith, existing in one of the South’s largest cities, operating like a family-run joint in Mayberry because previous owner Jerry Richardson liked it that way. In many ways the Panthers represented the duality of Charlotte, a large metropolitan city coming to terms with its small-town roots, and the friction that comes with it.
Carruth’s existence flies in the face of that narrative. He is the antithesis of how the Panthers present themselves to the community, and how Panthers fans believe their team is. We are now in a post-release world. Carruth is free as of today — and he can no longer be intentionally forgotten.
Rae Carruth’s release from prison can’t be erased from record, but it warrants as little attention as possible — and yet, he’s done his best to push it to the forefront. Earlier this year he wrote two letters, publicly releasing them to the media. The first saying he wanted custody of his son, the second retracting that after seeing the visceral response to the concept that he would want to take care of the child he tried to have killed.
In March the Charlotte Observer published one of Carruth’s letters, which said:
“I didn’t foresee the media and general public being unanimous in its belief that I shouldn’t be allowed to ever have anything to do with Chancellor.”
Carruth’s letter, while seeming contrite, fails to grasp the most important part of this story: That the public should not be a part of the trauma that came from his actions. The media and general public, which Carruth references — we are the observers. Emotionally invested to be certain, but with no personal stakes.
Saundra Adams, who raised her grandson from the time of her daughter’s death, and Chancellor Lee Adams are the only people who should have a functional opinion on the topic of whether Carruth should have a relationship with his son. Over the years, Saundra has said that she forgives Carruth for killing her daughter. Her level of grace of forgiveness are qualities we should all aspire to. She bristled at Carruth’s first letter, which called not only to have a relationship with Chancellor, but to take custody of him.
“I should be raising my son. Chancellor will never be raised by a stranger – someone he doesn’t know and who tried to kill him.”
In 2016 Saundra Adams told the Charlotte Observer that she planned to be at the prison gates, with Chancellor, when his father is released. Now that is unclear. Carruth called that gesture a “publicity stunt” in his first letter, prompting Saundra to say that she is rethinking whether to meet Carruth upon his release. She is unsure whether Carruth truly understands the hurt he caused her family.
Our role in this story is minuscule. Panthers fans will need to adapt to Carruth’s name being in the national media again. A whole new generation of fans will learn about his crimes, and with that will come new hecklers — perhaps using his name as a barb with which to skewer the team, because they don’t fully understand what Carruth did to the Adams family.
When Carruth released his letters in March a lot was in flux. The Panthers were changing ownership for the first time in franchise history, with Jerry Richardson stepping aside due to sexual harassment allegations. The old, local team that traded in charm was sold to David Tepper, a hedge fund manager who partially owned the Pittsburgh Steelers. He immediately put his stamp on the team, removing the NFL shield at midfield of Bank of America Stadium and allowing his team to break ranks and sign Eric Reid.
Carruth serves as the final outstanding vestige of an era Panthers fans want to forget.
To Charlotte sports fans, Carruth’s crimes were a realization of the complications that come with professional sports. In the span of two months, the city witnessed Carruth’s arrest, followed by the tragic death of Hornets shooting guard Bobby Phills. Sobering reminders that sports aren’t always fun.
Now, with Carruth released it’s important to remember that it doesn’t matter what we think about Carruth having a relationship with Chancellor. That is up for the family to decide, whether or not Carruth tries to play this out in the media again.
Rae Carruth closed his second letter to the media by saying:
“I will no longer be pursuing a relationship with Chancellor and Ms. Adams. I promise to leave them be, which I now see is in everyone’s best interest. And so we’re clear, this will be the very last time that I make any comments concerning this situation. For my character, this is regrettably where the story ends ... It’s time to move on.”
The choice was not left up to Saundra Adams or Chancellor Lee Adams. In the end Carruth chose to end this story how he started it: by making the calls. Perhaps it’s for the best, maybe it’s not. Life is too complex to brand with simple labels that determine whether or not a father should see his son, but by all accounts that door was open to Carruth, until he closed it by going public instead of being personal.
Chancellor Lee Adams will continue, as he has for the last 18 years — by surviving. Carruth will get a second chance at life. One that won’t include the remarkable young man who fans have gotten to know through the media over the years.
Carruth might be shutting the book, but the story is not finished. Now, finally, without Carruth’s involvement this can once again be a story about life and perseverance. Even if we got one final plot twist in its closing chapter.