Before his untimely demise, Detroit Lions cornerback Amik Robertson is recalling his last moments with 2025 NFL draft hopeful Kyren Lacy.

The silence in the Detroit Lions’ locker room was deafening. Amik Robertson sat alone on the bench, his head lowered, hands clenched tightly as his mind spun with memories. The news had arrived like a freight train—Kyren Lacy, the 2025 NFL Draft hopeful and rising star from LSU, was gone. The world lost a young man with limitless potential. Robertson lost a friend, a brother, and, in the truest sense, family.

“I still hear his laugh,” Robertson said softly, eyes glistening as he recalled their last conversation. “That morning, he was talking about the future like it was already his. Now… it’s just hard to believe he’s not here anymore.”

Lacy’s sudden and tragic death sent shockwaves through the football world. Just weeks away from potentially hearing his name called in the first two days of the NFL Draft, Lacy was preparing to take the next great leap in his life. Instead, the football community now grapples with grief, remembrance, and the fragility of the journey from college stardom to professional legacy.

Before their paths diverged, Amik Robertson and Kyren Lacy were united by more than just football. Both were Louisiana natives—Robertson from Thibodaux and Lacy hailing from the nearby town of Lafayette. It wasn’t just geography that bound them. It was culture. It was struggle. And it was hope.

“People don’t understand,” said Robertson. “Coming out of places like where we’re from, the margin for error is slim. Football ain’t just a game—it’s a lifeline.”

Robertson, who forged his name at Louisiana Tech before making the leap to the NFL, had always kept a close eye on the young receivers coming up from his home state. When Lacy started making noise at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette, Robertson took note.

“He wasn’t just making plays—he had that edge,” said Robertson. “There was something different about Kyren. He had that fire, that hunger you don’t teach.”

That edge eventually earned Lacy a transfer to LSU, where he blossomed into a reliable target, known for his strong hands, clean routes, and gritty mindset. Lacy wasn’t always the fastest or the most hyped, but he made up for it with toughness, intelligence, and heart. By the end of the 2024 college football season, scouts were buzzing.

The last time Robertson saw Lacy was just three days before the tragedy.

“He hit me up—said he was in Detroit, training with some folks out here, and wanted to get some reps in,” Robertson recalled. “Said he wanted to get that ‘real DB work’ before his next pro day session.”

They met at a local training facility in the suburbs, a quiet place shielded from media noise. No cameras. No handlers. Just two Louisiana dogs going at it, pushing each other like they always did.

“That boy cooked me on a deep post,” Robertson laughed. “I ain’t gonna lie. He hit me with a double move that left me spinning. He was just grinning like, ‘I still got it, huh?’”

They worked out for nearly two hours—one-on-ones, footwork drills, contested catch situations. Afterward, they sat on the turf, catching their breath and talking about life.

“I told him straight up—he was league ready,” Robertson said. “He had polished up the little things. Route running? On point. Footwork? Elite. But more than that, he was mentally in a good place.”

Lacy had been vocal about wanting to represent Louisiana on the biggest stage—not just for himself, but for his family, his community, and the kids who looked up to him.

“He said, ‘I ain’t just doing this for me, bro. I gotta put on for everyone back home. I gotta show ’em it can be done.’”

The tragedy unfolded in the early hours of a Sunday morning.

According to local authorities, Lacy was involved in a fatal car accident while returning from a late-night charity event held in his honor in Detroit. The crash, which occurred on I-94, involved multiple vehicles and is still under investigation. Lacy was pronounced dead at the scene.

“He texted me that night,” said Robertson. “Just said, ‘Love, my bro. Appreciate you. I’ll hit you tomorrow.’”

Tomorrow never came.

“I keep looking at that message. I keep thinking… if I would’ve told him to stay at my place, or if I would’ve gone with him… Maybe he’d still be here.”

The sense of helplessness, of what-ifs and whys, consumes Robertson. But through the pain, he’s found a new mission: to make sure Kyren Lacy’s name is never forgotten.

Leading up to the 2025 NFL Draft, Lacy was projected to be a mid-round pick with potential to rise based on his athletic testing and interviews. His stock had risen after a strong showing at LSU’s pro day, where he ran a 4.47 40-yard dash and impressed scouts with his polished route running and natural catching ability.

“There was talk of him sneaking into the second round,” said one NFC scout anonymously. “He was mature, coachable, and his tape was consistent. You knew what you were getting with Kyren—reliability and toughness.”

Robertson echoed that sentiment.

“He wasn’t flashy for the cameras, but he was real. That’s what teams need. He would’ve been one of those guys you look back in five years and say, ‘How did we let him fall that far?’”

Lacy had interviews lined up with nearly a dozen NFL teams in the two weeks before the draft, including the Panthers, Patriots, and Saints.

“He was pumped about the idea of playing for New Orleans,” Robertson said. “That was the dream—to suit up for the home team and put on for Louisiana.”

In the days since his passing, tributes have poured in across social media and sports networks. LSU head coach Brian Kelly released a statement calling Lacy “a young man of great integrity and resolve.” Teammates posted pictures of the wide receiver with captions like “Forever 2” and “Our angel in cleats.”

But perhaps the most powerful tributes came not from teammates or coaches, but from the youth programs Lacy quietly supported back home.

“Every summer, he’d come back and run free camps for the kids,” said Marcus Guidry, a youth coach in Lafayette. “Didn’t want no attention. Just showed up with cleats and Gatorades, running drills, giving talks. He cared.”

Robertson wants that to be the defining image of Kyren Lacy—not just a player, but a mentor and beacon of hope.

“He gave people a reason to believe,” said Robertson. “He made the dream real for kids who don’t have much to dream about.”

In the wake of Lacy’s passing, several LSU alumni have called for a scholarship fund to be established in his name. Robertson has already pledged $25,000 of his own money to launch the “Kyren Lacy Legacy Fund,” which will provide educational and athletic opportunities for underserved youth in Louisiana.

“I don’t want people to remember him just because he died,” Robertson said. “I want them to remember how he lived. How he lifted people up, how he never gave up, how he made the most out of every chance he got.”

The NFL has also announced plans to honor Lacy during the 2025 Draft, with a special tribute planned during Day 2. Robertson has been invited to speak.

“I’m gonna make sure his name rings out loud and proud,” Robertson promised. “Because he deserved that stage. He earned it.”

As Robertson stands in the Lions’ practice facility, holding Lacy’s LSU gloves in one hand and his phone in the other, he speaks with a quiet resolve.

“There’s this moment from our last workout,” he says, staring into the distance. “We were just sitting there, and Kyren said, ‘I feel like everything’s finally clicking. Like I’m right where I’m supposed to be.’ That hit me. I think he knew something… or maybe he just felt complete in that moment.”

Football is a brutal game. Life, even more so. But in remembering Kyren Lacy, Robertson offers something deeper than loss. He offers connection. Brotherhood. Purpose.

“This game brought us together,” Robertson said. “But it was love that kept us close. And I’ll carry that love with me every snap, every step, for the rest of my life.”

Kyren Lacy may not hear his name called in the 2025 NFL Draft, but he’s already left his mark—on the field, in the locker room, and in the hearts of those who knew him. And through the words and memories of those like Amik Robertson, that legacy will live forever.