EDITED BY: Emme Hall
In November 2024, what was meant to be a historic celebration became a night that would forever mark Tuskegee University’s legacy.
Tuskegee’s 100th Homecoming — its centennial — drew hundreds, if not thousands, of students, alumni, and visitors to Tuskegee, Alabama, for a weekend filled with pride, tradition, and reunion. The energy across campus was electric. Generations gathered to honor a century of excellence.
By Saturday night — the final night of homecoming — celebrations spilled across campus. After the Step Show, crowds made their way to what had become a familiar post-homecoming scene: dozens upon dozens of people gathered in a parking lot near a student dorm, music playing, conversations flowing, friends reconnecting under the Alabama night sky.
What seemed like a night of laughter and lingering goodbyes shifted in an instant. A gunshot cut through the music.
Witnesses remember the sound first — then chaos. Students and alumni ducked, ran, and scattered across Tuskegee’s hilly campus searching for shelter. Some hid behind cars. Others sprinted through the dark, hearts pounding, trying not to lose sight of friends in the confusion. Many were separated in the rush to avoid crossfire.
By the end of the night, a young man had lost his life.
And among those caught in the violence was Weldon “Jay” Hatcher — known simply as Jay — who was struck by a stray bullet.
What began as a celebration of legacy became a night defined by trauma, survival, and unanswered questions.
Jay’s Story: Survival and a Shift in Perspective
Born and raised in Augusta, Georgia, Jay never expected Tuskegee’s 100th Homecoming to become one of the most life-altering nights of his life.
Today, he says he’s in a much better place.
“I’m way better than I was before,” he shared. “Most definitely improved. Most definitely healed. Fully healed. I’m done with appointments and everything. I’m really fully healed now.”
The Night That Changed Everything
What was supposed to be a night of celebration turned into confusion.
“It was kind of confusing, honestly,” he said. “The plan was just to go out there, take the scenery in, maybe have a little fun, and go back.”
He admitted they walked into the gathering without much prior knowledge. Looking back, he wishes they had done more research.
“If you were to search it up, two years ago they already had previous incidents prior to this year. If we had looked that up, we probably wouldn’t have been in that situation.”
Gun violence erupted during the homecoming festivities, and Jay was struck by a stray bullet. In an instant, a celebratory weekend became a traumatic experience.
“It was definitely an experience of a lifetime,” he said. “But I’m never ashamed to express it to somebody or to explain what happened.”
The Hardest Part: Physical, Not Mental
While many might assume the emotional toll would be the most difficult part, Jay says otherwise.
“Nothing mental at all. Definitely physical,” he explained.
Recovery meant wearing a cast that severely limited his movement.
“My arm was kind of concreted to a certain point where I couldn’t even move it. If it itched, I couldn’t scratch it. That was irritating. It was mostly the physical part of it.”
Simple, everyday actions became frustrating challenges. But even during that time, he remained focused on healing and getting back to normal.
A Shift in Perspective
The experience forced him to think differently — about safety, about time, and about purpose. “It definitely did switch a lot of things,” he reflected. “It set a fire under me for a minute.”
During recovery, he feared missing out on major milestones, including marching during Mardi Gras with the band.
“When I first got out of the cast, I wasn’t able to march. I was afraid I wasn’t going to be able to. So I pushed myself to actually get out there and join everybody else.”
The incident changed how he views life’s urgency.
“That could have took me out of here,” he said candidly. “Stuff like that happens in a flash. It sends you signs every now and then — be aware, be cautious.”
It also reshaped how he approaches his goals.
“It switched how I go about achieving stuff. There’s steps and levels to things. Now I think about the next move more. It set me up to move smarter.”
Community Support
In the weeks that followed, support rallied around him — especially from Talladega.
“The band — shout out to the Great Tornado Band — they had a movement going on. It was ‘#DoItForJ.’ Some people call me that now. That’s kind of what I’m stuck with with those people.”
For weeks, the hashtag circulated as a show of solidarity — a reminder that survival is not something you endure alone.
A Message to Students Facing Trauma
For students silently dealing with trauma, Jay’s message is simple but powerful:
“Embrace it. Don’t be afraid to talk about it. Don’t be afraid to share your story or open up to somebody.”
He believes healing begins with speaking up.
“You never know — once you open up to a person, they might be able to help solve whatever you’ve got going on.”
Then he leaves one final thought:
“Closed mouths don’t get fed. You’ve got a voice. You have to use it.”
Tuskegee Alumni Reflect: Trauma, Accountability, and Legacy
While Jay’s experience was deeply personal, the emotional impact rippled across Tuskegee’s community.
A female Tuskegee alumna who was present that evening described how quickly the atmosphere shifted.
“Before the incident, the students and alumni were excited to get together and have a good time,” she said. “This was the centennial, so there were a lot of people and traditionally after the Step Show, everyone goes to the West to celebrate the end of homecoming.”
But after the shooting, everything changed.
“Most people were just wanting answers and looking at what the administration would do moving forward.”
She explained that the tragedy heightened awareness for many.
“I’ve always been the type to have my head on a swivel at parties,” she said. “I’m usually someone who is paranoid and likes to be aware of their surroundings. I feel like for other students though, it made them more aware of their surroundings. And I feel like it created this sense of when you see something, say something.”
She also noted that students leaned on one another, but many were still processing.
“We had protests and petitions,” she explained. “Students felt like the administration lacked in some areas and wanted their voices to be heard.”
“Many students had to go to counseling and still do. People were seriously hurt, and students felt more helpless than anything.”
A male alum echoed that emotional shift.
“For me personally, it was traumatic. It’s scary when something like that happens. I found myself thinking about how easily it could’ve been anybody. I’m honestly just thankful to be alive.”
At the same time, he was intentional about separating tragedy from legacy.
“I don’t think this tragedy takes away from what Tuskegee is,” he said. “Tuskegee has a powerful legacy and means so much to so many of us.”
He acknowledged that changes have followed.
“The university has made safety changes since then, and I do believe there’s an effort to make things safer moving forward. It doesn’t undo what happened, but it shows that steps are being taken. Rest in peace to the young life that was lost.”
For many alumni, love for the institution and calls for accountability coexist.
“Tuskegee alumni and students love each other,” the female alumna said. “We would never hurt each other no matter what. This isn’t the first time we’ve had an incident on campus and it’s always someone who does not attend the school.”
University Response and Security Reforms
While Jay’s recovery speaks to personal resilience, the shooting also left lasting questions about campus safety and accountability.
In the weeks following the violence at Tuskegee University’s 100th homecoming celebration, law enforcement officials announced the arrest of 25-year-old Jaquez Myrick of Montgomery. According to reporting by WTVY News 4, Myrick was found leaving the scene with a handgun equipped with a machine-gun conversion device and was later federally charged with possession of a machine gun. Court records state that he admitted to firing the weapon during the incident, though he denied shooting at anyone. He was ultimately sentenced to 24 months in federal prison, followed by supervised release.
In response, Tuskegee University implemented sweeping security changes. As reported by WSFA 12 News, the university ended its open-campus status, requiring all individuals to present and visibly wear a university-issued ID while on campus. University officials also replaced the previous campus security chief, appointed new leadership, increased law enforcement presence, and installed badge-activated automated entry arms at campus gates to better control access. The administration further clarified that the gathering where the shooting occurred was not an officially sanctioned university event, prompting a broader review of how large gatherings are monitored and regulated.
These measures reflect an effort to restore confidence, strengthen campus security, and prevent similar tragedies in the future — a necessary step forward for a community still healing.
Talladega’s Perspective: Prepared, Not Passive
While Tuskegee implemented new safety measures in the wake of the centennial shooting, neighboring institutions were also paying attention. Violence at one HBCU does not exist in isolation — and according to Talladega College Chief of Police and Director of Campus Safety Chris Anderson, incidents like these ripple across campuses.
“Whenever we have a shooting incident or an act of violence on an HBCU campus, it usually affects all HBCU campuses,” Anderson explained. “As chiefs of police, we sit down, we talk about what happened, how it transpired, and what the takeaways are. After investigations are completed, we evaluate how something like that could happen here and what we can do to stop it — or at least be better prepared if it does.”
Anderson, who has served at Talladega College for four years, said the Tuskegee incident did prompt internal review.
“Did it affect us? Absolutely,” he said. “Did we adjust some of our protocols? Absolutely. Yes.”
Though Talladega and Tuskegee are separate institutions, both are private HBCUs in Alabama with similar traditions, including large alumni gatherings and homecoming celebrations. For campus safety officials, preparation is constant — not reactive.
When asked what he would say to students, alumni, or community members who may feel anxious about attending large campus events, Anderson emphasized preparation and priority.
“We take safety as our top priority here,” he said. “We do a lot of training. We coordinate closely with local law enforcement to keep things safe.”
At the same time, he acknowledged a reality shared by institutions everywhere.
“Can you say something like that will never happen here? No,” he said. “None of us have crystal balls. The best thing we can do is be prepared.”
A Legacy Still Standing
The centennial was meant to celebrate 100 years of excellence. Instead, it became a reminder of fragility — how quickly joy can shift to survival.
But in the aftermath, there was also resilience.
There was healing.
There were protests.
There was accountability.
And there was a young man who survived — determined to move smarter, speak louder, and make the next step count.
“Closed mouths don’t get fed,” Jay said. “You’ve got a voice. You have to use it.”
