On football fields, on dorm-room floors, and in life, Dexter “D.J.” Monroe ’13 danced.

Sometimes, at the end of a Harvard football game, the former defensive back would carve out space in the locker room, find music, and bounce around the area, still wearing full pads.

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Other times, on Saturday nights, he would take over a party by playing a favorite Southern rap song and commandeering part of the floor.

“He was a huge dancer,” said Nnamdi Obukwelu ’13, a former blockmate of Monroe’s and an ex-defensive tackle. “D.J. was the guy who was the life of a party.”

But Monroe, who died in a motorcycle accident on Oct. 13, was more than just a well-liked socialite. As teammates and friends reminisced, it was not the dancing so much as the underlying authenticity and self-confidence that marked Monroe as a special individual during his 24 years of life.

A leader on the Harvard football team, an irreplaceable member of a tight-knit friend group, and a proud brother in a family of three sisters, Monroe found people who loved him wherever he went.

This remains true even in death, as Monroe leaves behind a vast network of friends, teammates, and relatives who all seem to remember him in the same way: with a smile on his face.

“It’s always hard to picture D.J. without picturing the huge smile that he had,” said Adam Riegel ’13, another blockmate and former Harvard defensive tackle. “That smile and the laughter that always followed were two defining characteristics of who he was.”

The first time that defensive back Jonathan Mason ’12 saw that grin was nearly seven years ago, when Monroe visited Harvard for his official visit. Coming from Columbia, S.C., the prefrosh struck Mason as shy and tentative—maybe a little nervous about being so far from home.

In retrospect, that first impression makes Mason chuckle.

“When I re-met him as a freshman at Harvard, I learned how he really was,” Mason said. “He was the life of the party…. Once he felt comfortable, he kind of let loose, and that was the D.J. that we all knew and loved.”

This energy and charisma characterized Monroe throughout his time with Harvard, both on and off the field.

Donovan Celerin ’13, a blockmate and fellow defensive back, recalled one night during his freshman fall when he was caged in the basement of Grays Hall, studying class notes for a science course.

Noiselessly, Monroe snuck into the room, and before Celerin could react, the South Carolina native had shoved a pile of snow into his face, setting off a sprint through Harvard Yard that ended in snowballs and laughter.

“It’s something that I’ll never forget,” Celerin said. “That’s just the type of person that he was.”

But Monroe prioritized much more than friendly mischief during his time on campus. As a defensive back, he developed into a cornerstone of the Crimson secondary and earned two All-Ivy selections.

He played the same way that he lived: with pure joyfulness and intensity. As a senior, he defended 18 passes, more than any other college cornerback, and earned team-wide renown for his post-play celebrations, including his signature bow-and-arrow.

The stakes may have been lower on the practice field, but the same excitement remained. From the first day of freshman camp, teammates pegged Monroe as someone with a burning desire to succeed—and the natural talent to fulfill this desire.

For four years, defensive back and blockmate Brian Owusu ’13 was one of Monroe’s weightlifting partners. Although the trainer gave each player a personalized set of exercises to complete, Owusu and Monroe often went beyond those suggestions, adding weight in a quest for self-improvement.

“He had this enthusiasm about him and this demeanor that was always welcoming,” Owusu said. “At the same time, you could see the passion in his eyes about the game and wanting to do well.”

However, success did not come easily. In his sophomore year, Monroe blew out his ACL in a game at Lafayette, forcing him to miss the rest of the season and undergo several months of rehab.

Alongside him were Mason and Jaron Wilson ’14, two other secondary members who had suffered knee injuries. These three combined with a few others to form the New Knee Nation, or NKN for short, as they sought to push themselves through up to six extra hours of training a day.

Although he was a year younger than Mason, Monroe took on an authority role with the squad, pointing out lack of effort and motivating teammates to stick with the process. And despite suffering a second knee injury during the next preseason, Monroe returned at full strength to play in nine games in 2011.

According to various teammates, nothing during this trying process had much of an effect on Monroe’s personality. In particular, he maintained the same drive and authenticity that had distinguished him in the first place.

“He was the most genuine, kind-hearted person I’ve ever meant,” Wilson said. “He wanted to bring you into the fold.”

Of all Monroe’s Crimson friends and teammates, running back Treavor Scales ’13 was one of the first to experience these traits. A prospect out of Georgia, Scales happened to schedule his official visit at the same time as Monroe, and for the next four years, the pair remained together as members of a tight-knit football team and later an eight-person blocking group.

“We spent pretty much every waking moment together,” Scales said. “You had to have supreme confidence to even be in his presence…. It was beautiful to be around, and it made you just step out of your shell.”

The last time that Scales saw Monroe, the pair met up with Celerin in Florida. Monroe had made a roughly five-hour drive from Bristol to Tampa to be there with his friends.

“We sat out in the back of his truck, just chilling and reminiscing,” Scales said. “That’s most certainly one of the fondest memories I’ll ever have.”

In addition to his family of teammates, Monroe leaves behind a family of sisters and parents who have always played a seminal role in his life. Riegel estimated that Monroe called home four or five times a week when at school, and outside of those talks, Monroe rarely missed an opportunity to update his friends on the accomplishments of his three sisters.

While Monroe’s friends may never be able to fill the loss, they have pledged to provide any support that they can.

“We used to sing that Ten Thousand Men of Harvard song after every victory,” Wilson said. “[At the funeral], I looked at his mom, his dad, and his sisters, and I said, ‘I know that was your only brother—I know that was your only son. But because of your son, and because of who he was, you have ten thousand more sitting right beside you.’”

—Staff writer Sam Danello can be reached at sam.danello@thecrimson.com.