It was about 11:30 p.m. the night of April 10, and I sat on my bed going through the story ideas of my reporters on The State News’ sports desk.
I took a break to scroll down Twitter, per usual, and I noticed a post containing the final column Joe Rexrode would write for the Detroit Free Press. I clicked on it, read the opening and handed it to my girlfriend.
It said, “As my 2-year-old son and I pulled into the parking lot of an Okemos grocery store for some midday shopping, a text from Tom Izzo popped into my phone.