Delays in Addressing Malcolm Simmons’ Status Risk Further Harm, Heightened Scrutiny, and an Erosion of Trust in Auburn Football
The longer Auburn football delays a public response regarding the status of wide receiver Malcolm Simmons, the heavier the burden becomes on his alleged victim—and the more scrutiny will be placed on the university’s leadership. The recent report by ESPN’s Jeremy Goodman stating, “The more Auburn waits to address the status of football player Malcolm Simmons, then the more pressure will be put on his alleged victim of domestic violence,” captures the growing tension not only within the Auburn community but across the broader college football landscape.
Silence, in cases like these, is not neutrality. It is a choice—one that communicates more than words. In the age of transparency, accountability, and a heightened awareness of the trauma that domestic violence inflicts on victims, the university’s continued delay sends a troubling message: that football success, or the talent of a single player, may still outweigh the urgency of moral responsibility. That’s not a perception Auburn should want to cultivate, nor one that a program with national visibility can afford to carry.
Malcolm Simmons, a promising freshman and former four-star recruit, has been at the center of offseason headlines—not only for his athletic ability and potential impact on the Tigers’ offense but now for off-the-field allegations that demand urgent and decisive attention. The details of the alleged incident have not been released publicly in full, and Simmons has not been charged with a crime at this time. But that does not mean Auburn is absolved of its responsibility to act—or at the very least, to communicate its current stance.
Colleges are not courts of law, and they are not bound by the same evidentiary standards or procedural delays. What they are bound by, however, is a responsibility to their students, their campus community, and the values they claim to uphold. Every day that goes by without a statement from the athletic department or the university administration increases public speculation and, more importantly, prolongs the emotional toll on those directly affected—especially the woman at the center of these allegations.
There is a human being on the other side of this story, whose voice is made smaller each time her experience is ignored, sidelined, or placed second to the business of sports. And as Goodman rightly noted, the longer Auburn waits, the more the alleged victim becomes the one carrying the weight—forced to live in a state of uncertainty while the public narrative continues to swirl without clarity or justice.
This is not to suggest that Auburn owes the public every detail of an internal matter. Privacy rights, legal considerations, and procedural fairness all matter. But transparency and accountability are not the same as oversharing. It is entirely possible—and expected—that Auburn issues a clear, responsible statement acknowledging the seriousness of the allegations, outlining steps being taken, and affirming its commitment to both fair process and support for those affected by potential abuse.
So far, there has been no such statement. And that vacuum has been filled by rumor, anger, and growing distrust.
For a program trying to find its footing under head coach Hugh Freeze—a man who himself has faced past controversies related to program culture—the stakes are even higher. Freeze has spoken repeatedly about rebuilding Auburn on a foundation of integrity, accountability, and player development both on and off the field. Now is the time to show that those words are more than slogans. Now is the time for action.
If Simmons remains on the practice field without public clarification, it sends a signal—whether intended or not—that Auburn values his athletic contribution more than the integrity of the program. That perception undermines not only Freeze’s leadership but also the trust of fans, students, alumni, and survivors of abuse who are watching how this moment is handled.
Across college athletics, we’ve seen the consequences of delayed or dismissive responses to serious allegations. Programs like Baylor, Michigan State, and others have had their reputations stained for years—not just by the wrongdoing itself, but by the failures of leadership in the aftermath. Auburn is not in crisis yet, but it is approaching a crossroads. The decision they make in the coming days will set a tone not only for the Simmons case but for the standards they are willing to uphold.
It is also worth considering what message this sends to other student-athletes. If a teammate is accused of something as serious as domestic violence and the response from the program is silence or business-as-usual, what are they being taught about accountability, empathy, and respect? What are they learning about how their university treats women who come forward with accusations?
There is, of course, a legal and ethical balance to strike. Simmons has not been convicted of any crime. He is entitled to due process, and Auburn should not rush to judgment based solely on public pressure. But “due process” is not synonymous with inaction. There are interim steps Auburn can take—such as placing Simmons on administrative leave, limiting his participation in team activities, or offering support resources to all parties involved—while the situation is reviewed internally.
These are not radical measures. They are common-sense steps that demonstrate seriousness, compassion, and institutional responsibility. They allow the process to move forward without prematurely punishing anyone, while still protecting the dignity and safety of those involved.
Unfortunately, Auburn’s delay in even acknowledging the situation has allowed misinformation and partisan narratives to dominate the conversation. Some voices have rushed to defend Simmons solely because of his talent or because of the program’s needs, while others have condemned him without any confirmed details. In the absence of official leadership, the loudest voices often take control—and that rarely leads to justice or clarity.
This also places Auburn’s media partners, student reporters, and fans in a difficult position. No one wants to speculate on an open situation. No one wants to assign blame without facts. But silence creates a vacuum, and speculation thrives in the absence of truth. By failing to provide even a framework for understanding the situation, Auburn risks deepening the divide between the program and the public it represents.
It is also impossible to separate this story from broader societal issues. We are living in a time when awareness of domestic violence, particularly against women, is growing. Victims are speaking up. Institutions are being challenged to respond better. Sports programs, which often sit at the intersection of power, money, and influence, are being held to a higher standard. And rightfully so. Because when handled poorly, these situations don’t just harm individuals—they erode public trust and reinforce dangerous cultural patterns.
Auburn has a chance to do this right. To respond not just legally, but ethically. To show the college football world that it is possible to uphold fairness and still act decisively in the face of serious allegations. To protect the vulnerable, support the accused with dignity, and prioritize truth above trophies.
The leadership of President Christopher Roberts, Athletic Director John Cohen, and Coach Hugh Freeze is now under the microscope. Their actions in the coming days will speak far louder than anything they’ve said in past press conferences or media guides. The question is no longer just about Malcolm Simmons. It’s about Auburn’s values. It’s about whether they are willing to lead when it matters most—not just when games are won or recruits are signed, but when real people are hurting and real decisions must be made.
There is still time for Auburn to rise to this moment. To do what is right, fair, and compassionate. But every day that passes makes it harder to believe that day will come. Every moment of delay becomes a moment of pressure—not for the program, but for the alleged victim, who did not choose this spotlight and who now waits, perhaps alone, for the institution to show her that she matters.
Football is powerful. It can unite, inspire, and elevate. But it can also conceal, distract, and overwhelm. Auburn now faces a test of its identity—one that won’t be measured by points on the scoreboard, but by how it handles the silent suffering behind the headlines.
And that test is happening right now.
