A Second Chance
Jordan Murphy and Tom Hager
In partnership with Athletes For God
When I arrived at the Aurora movie theater on July 20, 2012, I can honestly say that God hadn't crossed my mind that entire day.
Ever since then, I've never let Him stray far from my thoughts. After what happened that night, how could I?
My name is Jordan Murphy. I was a starting fullback on the University of Colorado football team. I was also a survivor of the Dark Knight movie shooting.
This is my story.
Looking back, it's so strange how many things had to happen for me to be in that movie theater that night. If I hadn't just been cut from the Colorado State football team, my friends wouldn't have felt compelled to cheer me up. If I hadn't decided to transfer to the University of Colorado, I wouldn't have even been around them, because I could have been playing football in a different state. If my job at the hospital would have stretched any longer that night, we would have missed the movie altogether. As it were, we actually showed up late.
My friends were annoyed that I was making them miss the beginning of the movie, but they were used to it by this point. They called it Murphy Time, because whenever I mentioned a certain time, they knew to add on a few extra minutes. In this particular instance, however, our tardiness may have saved our lives.
This was the midnight premiere of the Dark Knight Rises, so the movie theater was packed. By the time we got there, the only seats still open were right by the screen, just three rows from the front.
About 15 minutes later, I saw a light coming in from the left exit door as someone entered the theater from the outside. When the person rushed in, I could see they were wearing full tactical gear, with a gas mask and everything. I initially thought it might be a promotional stunt, because they were dressed just like the character Bane, but I quickly rationalized that this couldn't be the case. Nobody would promote a movie by interrupting it during the film.
Within 15 seconds of that realization, tear gas canisters went off in the theater, and my life was about to change forever.
The only reason I found myself in the theater that night was because my life was at a crossroads.
After playing football at a small high school, where it was hard to get noticed, I knew I was going to have to earn a college scholarship the hard way. I was going to walk onto the football team at Colorado State University.
It was a strange quest for me, because ever since I was six years old I had grown up as a fan of CSU's archrival, the University of Colorado. I remember watching games at Folsom Field with my Mom and Dad, and I will never forget when the Buffaloes beat the No. 2 team in the country, Nebraska, 62-36 in 2001. I was especially a fan of Daniel Graham, their tight end who became an All-American.
Unfortunately, Daniel and I did not share a similar path....he was a tight end and I was a linebacker. He was also blessed with an extraordinary amount of natural talent and I was not. Colorado wasn't interested in having me play football, so I decided to pack my bags and head up north to Fort Collins.
Wearing the green and gold for CSU was a bit of an adjustment, but earning playing time helps with that process. I made some big tackles as a freshman, and I thought I was on the path to stardom as a sophomore.
I could not have been more wrong.
The 2011 season ended up being the last year for my coach, Steve Fairchild, and the new coaching staff didn't see a role for me. If I had been on scholarship, they would have still had to pay for my education, even if I wasn't on the team. But since I was a walk-on player, they had no consequences of letting me go, and just like that my career as a Ram was done.
The only difference was that I wasn't ready for my own career to be over, and I decided to try and follow my childhood dream of donning the black and gold Buffaloes jersey. I wanted to run out of that tunnel at Folsom Field, with our mascot Ralphie leading the way, in front of 53,000 fans.
In the summer of 2012, however, all I had was a dream. I had no scholarship, no money, and no roster spot waiting for me. So my friends decided to help cheer me up one day by taking me to the movies.
I remember I considered skipping work that day, because I knew they might be waiting for me. My job was at the hospital in Castle Rock, a city about halfway between Denver and Colorado Springs. It's a bit of a drive to the Denver suburb of Aurora, but my friends really wanted me to go, so I made the choice of just getting work done as quick as possible. But before I could watch the movie I was going to do one of the most dirtiest jobs people can think of – hospital cleaner.
It wasn't the blood that disgusted me as much as the toilets, but this was the life of someone chasing their football dream. I didn't have a football scholarship, and this my way of paying for tuition. The only thing that was maybe more unpleasant than the job itself was my attitude...I remember being down on myself, thinking I had gone from a Division 1 football player to toilet cleaner.
I didn't know it at the time, but if God hadn't directed my path to that job, cleaning toilets, I might not be here to tell this story. It's a story that needs to be told, but not all of it is pleasant to tell. Especially what happened when we walked into that theater.
When I got done with my job at the hospital, I raced over to Aurora so we could all go into the theater together. We actually wanted to sit in the back, but as we would find out 15 minutes later, we were actually in the safest place that night.
Looking back, it's crazy how quickly your mindset on life can change. Just minutes earlier I was feeling sorry for myself about my situation, and within seconds of James Holmes opening that door, my only thoughts were on survival. I wasn't thinking about my roster spot at CU. I wasn't thinking about the job I hated. My only thoughts were on survival.
The first sign of actual terror was when the tear gas canisters went off inside the theater. You could hear the hissing of the air filling the room and the immediate feeling was mass panic. People knew something was going on, and I thought this was poisonous gas. I wasn't even thinking about weapons as much as I was thinking that we were going to die from the air we were breathing.
I put my shirt over my face, and while trying to hold my breath, I grabbed one of my friends. We jumped down to the seats in front of us, and that's when the shots began to go off, like a shotgun. Pop. Pop. Pop. Distinct shots, that were aimed at people James had never met, with the intention of ending their lives.
I can remember how loud it was inside the theater. I thought there might have been two shooters, but it was so dark I couldn't really see. The entire theater was pitch black except for the light shining from the projector to the screen.
Fortunately at that moment an airplane scene began to play, and it was light enough that we could see the exits. The four of us immediately made a run for it, and that's when James took aim directly at me.
By God's grace that bullet flew over my head, by an inch or two. It was close enough that I could feel the current of the air as the bullet rushed past my body, but that sensation was quickly replaced by the feeling of shrapnel exploding right into my eyes. When that bullet flew past me, it hit the drywall of the theater, which immediately ricocheted into my eye. My vision became fuzzy, but I had no idea if gas had possibly exploded in my face, or what was going on. There was so much adrenaline coursing through my veins that I couldn't feel anything except the desire to get out of that theater.
We made it to the little tunnel that leads back to the main lobby, and by that point the door was wide open. We got to the front of the theater, and it was completely empty. There were no concessions workers, there were no ticket checkers. The whole scene was just completely eerie, and at that point we sprinted for the car.
We threw open the doors and even though it was my friend's car, they had me drive. I frantically drove to his house, and as I made my way down the streets, my friends asked me to say a prayer for them. They didn't know it at the time, but God had already granted me a prayer inside that theater.
What I'm about to tell you, I've never told anybody before.
When shots began to be fired inside that movie theater, I remember the question burning in my soul – what did I do with my life? Did I live it for God? Did I live it for others?
And in that moment, I cried out to God in a prayer.
If you get me out of this theater, I said, all of my life is going to you.
At that point in my life, I wasn't quite all in yet. I was still living a life of partying and consumed with my own life and my own priorities. I was missing out on an opportunity to love others and to bring glory to God. My priorities at that point were consumed with making it to the NFL and soaking in the attention it would bring me.
In one moment that all changed.
I'm going to lose Jordan Murphy, I prayed, and put you at the forefront.
I just didn't realize at the time what that would take, because life doesn't get easy once you commit your life to Christ. In fact, for many of the disciples, that's when the trials on Earth really began.
Minutes after that prayer, I'm now racing in a car to get to my friend's house, desperate to tell everyone that we're okay. We got to the house and woke up his parents to tell them what had just happened. Then we turned on the news to try and understand what was going on.
At that point, we didn't even know if the shooting was still happening. As I found out later on, the police arrived at the theater shortly after we left, because of the bravery of my friend. He was the first one to call 911 when the shooting began, while we were still in the theater. He just dialed the numbers, then left the phone in the theater as we sprinted toward the exit.
He's in the military now, which is no coincidence with the bravery he showed that night.
It was already midnight when the movie began, so by the time we got to the house it was in the early hours of the morning. I maybe slept an hour, but when I woke up nothing had changed. This wasn't a nightmare, and things weren't just going to go back to normal.
I don't know that I've ever had a normal day since then.
Any time I'm in public, I look at everybody. Everybody. I am hyper alert, and I definitely have some minor PTSD as a result of that night. At this point it's just habitual, and I don't even know I'm doing it unless someone asks about it or brings up the memories of that night.
But in the aftermath of the shooting, it wasn't my own survival that began haunting me. It was how I survived that shooting that kept me up at night. And there's not a darker time to be in your own thoughts than when you are living in a homeless situation.
Within a few weeks of the shooting, I showed up for fall camp at the University of Colorado. For most other people, their lives were continuing on as normal, and my life was never going to be the same.
I saw people's faces moments before they died. You don't just witness that and then switch gears to football.
When I was on the field, I tried not to show emotion. I knew I was there to try and make plays and earn a spot on the team. It was when practice ended that my thoughts began to switch back to what happened that night.
The thing that my teammates and coaches didn't know, however, was that when practice ended and people left the facilities, I stayed. I slept at the CU locker room.
I knew I had a house somewhere, but I didn't know how to get there. I knew it was miles away, and I didn't know about the bus system, and the thought didn't occur to me to ask. My thoughts were so scattered about so many things, like replaying that night, that finding the location of my house was not on the forefront of my mind.
So I would sleep on the floor of our facilities for the last few weeks of fall camp. And that's when I hit rock bottom. For the second time I had the question swimming through my brain of what am I doing with my life? This time, however, the response was a lot different.
At that point I had almost no money, no scholarship, no established friends on the team, and no bed to sleep on. I had been numb to a lot of the feelings until that moment, and then the thought occurred to me: I abandoned all those other people who were still in the theater. People who lost their lives.
Why didn't I do something? I'm a big guy, and I'm looked to as this strong person. Why didn't I try to take the gun away? It was a fight or flight moment, and as the shots rang out I chose flight.
It was at that moment that I wished the bullet wouldn't have flown over my head that night, but would have just hit me instead.
I never got help from a counselor or a psychologist, but if you need help, please get it. We all go through times in our life where we can't make it on our own strength, and sometimes friends or doctors can help you get back on track.
I wish James Holmes would have gotten help.
He never gave a reason for what he did, so I tried to find out myself. I went through some dark stuff, like reading his journal, to try and figure out why it happened.
And really, at the end of the day, there's no way to explain what happened other than the devil. It's part of the fallen world.
It's ironic...James never showed any remorse or sorrow for what happened, and I felt like I was carrying all the weight of what happened that night.
Some people have unhealthy outlets to heal their wounds, or maybe hide them, like drugs or alcohol. For me, there was only one path to mental, emotional, and spiritual freedom. It was God. His path took me through that theater and sent me into this spiral, and it would be His path that would help me get out.
God had a plan to get me through that experience, and to honor my wish of living my life for Him. That night will always feel tragic to me, but what has transpired as a result is nothing short of beautiful. And miraculous.
Within a few weeks of sleeping on that locker room floor, God opened the first of many doors for me. I believed football would provide me the platform to share my story with people, and before long I was speaking with Jon Embree, the head coach at Colorado.
I had made the team.
“Honestly, I haven't seen you play,” he told me, “But Tom Graham is a good friend of mine. He's a character witness and he's never been wrong about anybody. He's says you're the real deal. We'll put you on the 105 (man roster) – welcome to camp.”
Think about that for a second – the tight end I admired as a kid was Daniel Graham, and now it was his dad who helped me get on the roster. Now the real work was about to begin.
I once got to to meet my favorite athlete, Tim Tebow, when I was still in high school, and he said something that I will never forget: hard work beats talent when talent doesn't work hard. That was the approach I took to Boulder, and after sitting out that first season due to NCAA transfer rules, I got to make my first start the next year. The kid who had to transfer high schools because the coaches literally couldn't recognize him off the field was now going to have his name announced at Folsom Field.
On September 7, 2013, I got to make my first start against Central Arkansas. I still remember walking into that locker room and seeing that black jersey with my last name on the back, and then looking for my parents in their seats as I ran out of the tunnel.
By this point in my career I had switched from linebacker to fullback, which meant the headlines were all going towards somebody else. I never carried the football, and I never scored a touchdown. But I got to block for one of the best teammates anybody could ever ask for in Phillip Lindsay.
Phillip knew about my story, but wanted to know more. He was so respectful when he talked with me about it, and I could tell he genuinely cared about me. The good news was he was also an amazing football player, and as we grew closer his touchdowns felt like my touchdowns too. He dominated during my senior year, and with me blocking the way for those carries, I began to pursue my dream of making the NFL. I thought my purpose was to survive the shooting, make it to the NFL, and then share the story.
God, as only He can, redirected me to what was actually His path.
When the NFL draft came and went without anybody picking me up, God showed me what He actually was using me for when he dropped Reichen Posey in my lap. Reichen was just six years old when he was a survivor of the Newtown, Connecticut shootings, and I was blessed to help him out. A friend connected us, and after we got to meet for the first time we instantly became friends.
Here is a kid who has gone through a gruesome experience at an even younger age, when your mind is still developing, and his brain has been scarred from the experience. But God put this brave young man in my path to show him Christ's love and to show him healing.
Before I could be in the position to show Reiken what healing looked like, years earlier I had conquer some demons of my own. I needed to learn how to forgive James Holmes.
It took me a long time to feel forgiveness...there was a hatred for him. I had wanted him to get the death penalty, and the forgiveness part was not setting in. There was a conviction in my heart, however, that I had to forgive him for what he's done. Christ died on the cross for us, he took every single sin in the world and took the punishment for it. If he can forgive us for that, I've got to forgive this guy for the terrible things he did.
I can't say forgiveness is going to be easy, especially for the people who lost family members in the theater, but I think forgiveness is a must. We have to forgive.
That doesn't mean I excuse what he did – I will never excuse what he did that night. Forgiveness, however, stretches beyond excusing someone's actions or rationalizing it. Forgiveness is just that. Forgiveness.
James Holmes is now in prison, and I don't know if he will ever get to see this story, but James, if you can read this, I have a message for you.
God is ready to forgive you. All you have to do is ask for it.
Even after what you did, you still can be forgiven. God wants you to be forgiven. Just ask for it.
It may be hard to forgive yourself, because of the pain families are still feeling from that night, but your story doesn't have to end like this. Our God is a God of second chances, James, and whenever you are ready to receive it, it's yours.
I'm proof that second chances exist.
I've pondered the thought all these years later of why did everything happen, and to this day I don't have a definitive answer. One thing I did learn, however, was that our God is relentless. He will put you through difficult situations, knowing you will struggle in the midst of the adversity, but He will never give up on you to find triumph through your tragedy.
I know for me, God never gave up on me, and I'm never giving up on him. He answered my prayer of giving me a second chance in life, and this article is proof that He kept me here for a reason. And just as God is relentless in pursuing me, I will now be relentless in helping others pursue Him.