I didn’t want to write again about Jordan McNair’s death and the University of Maryland’s responsibility in it, and mishandling of it. We’ve done that twice already (here and here), but acknowledging what happened this week in College Park is sort of unavoidable.

“Losing a child,” my neighbor said, speaking from experience, “it’s a horrible thing, and they’re disgracing him.” We crossed paths as he listened on his phone to heated sports talk radio discussion about the University System of Maryland’s board of Regents decision Tuesday to reinstate then-Maryland head football coach D.J. Durkin.

Meanwhile, university president Wallace Loh said he would “retire” this summer, in an obvious sign of disagreement with the board’s apparently premediated move to keep their $2.5 million per year football coach, in the third year of his five-year contract, even after an internal investigation stated, “the Maryland football team did not have a ‘toxic culture,’ but it did have a culture where problems festered because too many players feared speaking out.”

A day later—only after Martin McNair, Jordan’s father, said “I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach and somebody spit in my face,” only after his mother said, “I miss my son every day, and today, it just didn’t help,” only after some players walked out of a team meeting and boycotted practice, and only after The Washington Post’s Sally Jenkins wrote a scathing column headlined “Don’t let your sons play for DJ Durkin”—did the course change.

After the widespread outrage—which any human with common sense could see coming—Loh announced Wednesday night that Durkin was fired, and yesterday board of regents chair James Brady said that he was resigning, both decisions made, they said, to move the university forward from the furor amid the sorry state of affairs.

The reality of the consequences of a tragic loss of life finally reached the tone-deaf 17-member board, which Brady admitted had dissenting opinions about bringing Durkin back. “I understand that reasonable people could come to other conclusions,” he wrote. “And even among our board, some did.”

Even if Durkin still had support of some players—some have said as much—was he just supposed to return to the sideline on Saturday against Michigan State, the Terps would win and become bowl eligible and everybody would celebrate it afterward? No. That would be uncomfortable at best and incomplete at a minimum.

I searched this morning to see if Durkin made any public comment about McNair’s death immediately after it happened in June, and was reminded that he did as part of a 13-minute press conference, a day after the previously healthy 19-year-old former McDonogh lineman died after a liver transplant failed to save him from the damage that had been done during an organized conditioning workout two weeks earlier on campus.

“My heart is broken,” Durkin said, “for the reason that we’re all even sitting here, having this press conference . . . It’s not reasonable that a 19-year-old should pass away.” Still, he took no responsibility for what happened and, in fact, the tone of practice resumed in August as if nothing had changed, a few players told ESPN in a national news-making report, which started to reveal details of the circumstances of McNair’s death.

It’s hard to imagine the university handling the situation any worse. Even the most ardent alumni have turned sour, and Durkin is still owed $5.1 million, according to the buyout terms of his contract. Here’s a good timeline of the events.

Signs of a “maybe people will forget about this” approach manifested in July, when the school released a brief statement to the media describing the circumstances of McNair’s death at a team workout, but did not disclose the cause of death, citing privacy concerns. Four days later, McNair’s family did it for them, saying their son died of heatstroke.

It took two months for the school to release results of a first external investigation (paid for by them of course) to say that the athletic training staff had failed to properly diagnose McNair’s condition. After details of what happened and the alleged culture of the football program emerged in the media, Loh finally said in August that the school accepted “moral and legal responsibility” for McNair’s death, but everything the administration had done before and after has suggested otherwise.

If McNair’s family didn’t have a powerful law firm working for them that pressured the university at every important stop along the way, it would have been status quo. If players didn’t anonymously talk to the media (the only power they have in the big-money NCAA college football world), strength and conditioning coach Rick Court—Durkin’s right-hand man who reportedly said, “Drag his ass across the field!” the day McNair was ultimately ambulanced to the hospital—wouldn’t have been fired on August 14.

So, only now, 142 days after Jordan McNair died and after a public outcry—students rallied for him on campus as late as Thursday night—can healing now begin. Only now can players walk around campus without wondering if the people in charge when their teammate died will be coming back, though athletic director Damon Evans is still on the payroll.

It will take years for the school to recover, but that’s nothing compared to the lifetime for McNair’s family and friends.

Two months after Maryland football player Jordan McNair died and only a few days after more details emerged about the circumstances, University of Maryland president Wallace Loh took to a podium in College Park on Tuesday and said the school accepted “legal and moral responsibility” for McNair’s death.

The 19-year-old redshirt freshman from Randallstown, who also played at McDonogh, passed away June 13 at the university’s shock trauma center in Baltimore, two weeks after suffering heatstroke during a football team workout, according to his family.

Questions have swirled since—mainly how and why?

And an ESPN report Friday, citing former staffers and current and former players, pointed to a “toxic culture” at Maryland under third-year coach D.J. Durkin—and particularly mental and physical abuse by strength and conditioning coach Rick Court. Court resigned on Monday.

Meanwhile, Durkin has been put on leave along with members of the Terps’ training staff pending the results of an external investigation due to be completed by mid-September.

The full picture of what exactly happened during and after the May 29 workout is now only known to those who were there on the partly cloudy 80-degree late afternoon. But Loh was confident enough to share straightforwardly on Tuesday that trainers “basically misdiagnosed the situation,” in which the 6-foot-4, 325-pound McNair became exhausted during a series of 110-yard conditioning sprints.

No vital signs were taken, nor was McNair treated with cold water immersion, a standard best practice in heat illness treatment, Maryland athletic director Damon Evans said during his remarks following Loh’s.

After the outdoor workout, McNair had been first transported to the team’s practice facility. An hour later, after 911 was called, he was then airlifted to Maryland Shock Trauma, where the lawyers representing the family say he was admitted with a 106-degree fever. McNair later received a liver transplant in an effort to save his life.

He is survived by his parents, Marty McNair and Tonya Wilson, who last month launched a foundation in their son’s name, aimed at educating the athletic community about heat-related illness.

“Our plans did not include his death. Our plans included something more. Our plans included him,” Marty McNair wrote in a letter posted on the foundation’s website, which describes Jordan, who also played basketball as a kid, as “a quiet spirit, whose size never went unnoticed in any room, but whose spirit took up the entire room.”

Loh and Evans traveled to Baltimore on Tuesday to share culpability in his death.

“The university owes you an apology,” Loh said, and he told the media Tuesday, “The university accepts legal and moral responsibility for the mistakes that our training staff made on that fateful workout day.”

As for the circumstances, anyone who’s played in or watched an organized football practice knows grueling workouts and stern coaches can be a regular occurrence. The ESPN report, however, described a culture of excess intimidation where belittling and embarrassment has been common, including one player having had a meal slapped out of his hands and demeaning verbal abuse, for instance.

One unnamed current player said after the team opened preseason training camp on August 3, the attitude of the coaching staff in practice had returned as if “nothing’s really changed” after McNair’s death. “Have these guys learned their lesson?”

“You can motivate people, push them to the limit, without engaging in bullying behavior,” Loh said.

Asked how much responsibility falls on Durkin, who had described Court as “his most important hire” upon taking over the Maryland program in 2016, Evans said, “We have to take a look at that.” And he cited the external review being done by Rod Walters, a university-hired, longtime athletic trainer.

Let’s not forget this is a state public university, one which joined the Big Ten conference in 2014 in an effort to boost its revenue and profile, with football as the central vehicle.

Durkin is a disciple of Michigan coach Jim Harbaugh (Ravens coach John’s brother). He was a splashy hire, made following the departure of Randy Edsall, who former players have similarly criticized for leading a poor culture.

Edsall was the coach who offered McNair a scholarship out of McDonogh, and athletic trainer Wes Robinson and director of athletic training Steve Nordwall, reportedly the trainers placed on leave, worked under Edsall during his tenure in College Park. Court arrived with Durkin.

Court reportedly will receive $315,000 as part of his dismissal, and a large settlement figures to be headed to the McNair family, whose lawyers had previously planned to pursue either a state or federal lawsuit.

“You entrusted Jordan to our care and he is never returning home again,” Loh said he told McNair’s parents. “I’m committed to doing the right thing, but nothing that we do can bring closure to their enormous loss.”

“While Marty and Tonya will never get another day with Jordan,” said Hassan Murphy, a managing partner at the law firm of Murphy, Falcon & Murphy, which represented the family of Freddie Gray after his death in police custody. “Dr. Loh’s words were meaningful to them and give them some comfort that he will put the university on the path to change the culture of the program so that no Terrapin family will have to endure the heartache and grief that they feel.”