A mother sits on a bench etched with her son’s name, clutching a pillow adorned with his face. She has told this story many times, but her voice still breaks. The pain is unmistakable, yet so are the pride and resolve. Michelle Tumlin is talking about her son, Houston, who died by suicide in 2021. Even now, she weeps as she speaks of loss and love — and of a determination that has reshaped her life.
Houston Tumlin was almost 13 when he was selected to play Walker Bobby in the comedy “Talladega Nights.” He came into the world “absolutely precious and full of talent,” his mother said. From ages 9 to 17, he worked in television commercials and print, but athletics, especially football, really captured his heart. Throughout high school, he had sustained eight concussions on the field.
“He started acting disoriented sometimes and showed signs of forgetfulness,” she said of Houston’s behavior after multiple concussions. “He was just different.”
After graduating from high school in 2011, Houston enrolled at a community college, but it wasn’t a fit. In 2014, he enlisted in the U.S. Army and served five-and-a-half years in the 101st Airborne Division, earning the rank of sergeant within three years.
By 2017, his parents noticed mood swings and alcohol abuse. They became especially concerned after Michelle watched an ESPN segment about a football player who died by suicide. It was her first exposure to chronic traumatic encephalopathy, or CTE, a neurodegenerative disease linked to repeated head trauma.
“The doctor they interviewed listed 10 symptoms and said if you know anyone showing these symptoms, contact a doctor immediately,” she said. “My Houston had all 10.”
While he was deployed to Korea, they knew something was seriously wrong.
“Even his commanding officers noticed that he was deteriorating mentally and physically,” Michelle said.
After two suicide attempts in Korea, Houston returned to Alabama to seek treatment in 2020. He was granted disability and scheduled appointments with neurologists, therapists and other specialists. He never made it to any of the appointments. Michelle lowers her voice when she remembers. “We just ran out of time,” she said.
On March 23, 2021, the Tumlins believed life was finally turning around. Houston had landed his “dream job” as a lineman and was in love with a woman he planned to marry. Then came the phone call. Houston was distraught over his grandmother’s lung cancer diagnosis.
“I could tell he had been drinking,” Michelle said. “I asked if he was OK and made sure he wasn’t driving. I encouraged him to take control of his drinking; that it was ruining his life. I told him how much we loved him and supported him. I told him we loved him so many times. He just said, ‘Love can’t fix me.’”
In the same phone call, his mood lifted. He made plans for an Easter weekend cookout — steak, deviled eggs and cheesecake — and even talked about coordinating outfits with his parents for church.
“He seemed to be OK,” Michelle said. “But he wasn’t.”
A friend dropped Houston off at his apartment in Pelham. His girlfriend said he sat quietly at the kitchen table. When she went to the restroom, he went into the bedroom. She heard a gunshot and ran to him. Houston Tumlin was dead at 28.
Michelle received a hysterical phone call from his devastated girlfriend.
“I kept asking if he was OK over and over,” she said. “It was the worst time of our lives.”
Michelle and her husband, Craig, rushed to Pelham, but police would not allow them into the apartment.
“I just wanted to touch his arm, hold his hand, anything,” she said. “They didn’t want me to see him that way.”
Because Houston had been a child actor, his death was initially covered harshly by an entertainment-focused tabloid news organization. After backlash from friends and family, a more compassionate story followed — one that portrayed Houston as a soldier, a wonderful son and a loving brother. Millions saw it, including a physician at Boston University who reached out to Houston’s sister, Hayden.
“He asked her, ‘Did he have more than one concussion in a year?’” Michelle said. “We knew he did.”
Physicians and researchers studied Houston’s brain, reviewed school, military and medical records, and interviewed those closest to him. They concluded he had sustained at least 22 concussions and was suffering from CTE, early-onset Alzheimer’s disease and painful electric shock sensations in both temples.
“I knew my baby had CTE back in 2018,” Michelle said. “I just knew it.”
The diagnoses brought clarity.
“It gave us peace to understand what happened the day he died,” she said.
Grief left Michelle unmoored, but she knew she had to be strong for Craig and for Hayden, who was 23 at the time.
“God made me loud and proud,” she said. “All I ever wanted to be is a momma. I decided I would live my life to be Houston’s voice, and I will fight for him until I go to heaven.”
A call from a friend, Katrina Hubbard, sparked a new path. The idea was to start a nonprofit to honor Houston and help veterans.
“We hit the ground running, and I haven’t looked back,” Michelle said.
Houston Project earned 501(c)(3) status and opened on Cogswell Avenue in Pell City on March 23, 2022 — exactly one year after Houston’s death. Its mission is “saving lives by delivering hope to hurting veterans, amplifying awareness of veteran suicide, and helping veterans with everyday needs.”
The organization provides financial assistance, connects veterans with critical resources and raises awareness about PTSD, depression and suicide. Lights of Hope initiative created in partnership with Coosa Valley Electric Cooperative.
“You name it, we do it,” Michelle said. “We do whatever we can for our veterans.”
She shares Houston’s story at speaking engagements and has joined forces with groups such as S.A.F.E.R. Together, a suicide prevention organization, to advocate for veteran safety. In April 2025, Gov. Kay Ivey signed Senate Bill 40, known as the Houston Hunter Act, named for Houston Tumlin and Marine veteran Hunter Whitley, who also died by suicide. The law promotes voluntary, temporary firearm storage to reduce suicide rates. More than 85% of veteran suicides in Alabama involve a firearm.
“This act allows veterans and first responders to safely store their guns if they feel they may be a danger to themselves,” Michelle said. “If this had been around in 2021, I believe Houston would still be here.”
In 2025, Houston Project furnished a home for homeless veterans in Pelham, naming it Hootie’s House after Houston’s nickname. The nonprofit has supported housing efforts through Three Hots and a Cot in Oneonta, where a room is named in Houston’s memory. They also outfitted a gym at Florida Springs Rehabilitation Center for veterans and first responders. The facility is called The Rally Point Tumlin Center.
“My baby’s name is going to be everywhere,” Michelle said. “He’s making a difference.”
Three years on, she is proud of what has grown from her grief.
“This is part of my healing,” she said. “I still have days when I feel like I can’t breathe. But I know I’m doing what God intended for me to do — and I know my son is so proud of his momma.”