FLORHAM PARK, N.J. -- Nearly four minutes into a breezy, upbeat session with reporters, defensive tackle Javon Kinlaw was asked about his resilience in his first season with the New York Jets .
Suddenly, his head dropped and his voice halted. He paused several seconds, reaching up with his right hand -- still gloved and taped from practice -- to wipe away tears as he stood behind a podium.
"I've been through a lot, bro," the 6-foot-5, 330-pound player said "... A lot of people would've [given] up, but I never gave up."
Some 1,100 miles away, in the small town of Ellisville, Mississippi, Jennifer Griffith's phone started blowing up.
Ping ... ping ... ping.
She received more than a dozen texts from friends and family sending the video of Kinlaw's news conference -- a poignant clip that moved quickly across social media on July 29. Griffith, a school administrator who befriended Kinlaw during his junior college career in Mississippi, took one look at the video and knew what was in his heart.
"It's not a place of sadness," Griffith said. "I just think he's incredibly thankful that everything he's working for is coming together."
Griffith paused.
"I just want to give him a hug," she said.
She already has. Many hugs, in fact. Enough to provide the hope he needed. He reciprocated with loving gratitude. Enough to make her plan an 18-hour drive to New Jersey to watch him restart his career with the Jets.
KINLAW'S STORY BECAME widely known before the 2020 NFL draft.
He experienced homelessness as a child in Washington, D.C., and struggled in school before earning his GED at Jones College, a two-year school in Mississippi. From there, he went on to star at South Carolina, where his rare size, power and upside convinced the San Francisco 49ers to draft him 14th overall.
In San Francisco, he never lived up to his draft status, in part because he missed 26 of 67 games because of knee surgery (2021) and subsequent knee issues. He's trying to reboot his career on a one-year, $7.3 million contract with the Jets.
"It's lonely -- a lonely, hard dream," Kinlaw told ESPN about his years in San Francisco. "[There was] a lot of depression, a lot of depression. I just felt super isolated."
Kinlaw was able to lean on Griffith and her family -- husband Greg and their three boys, Sawyer, Walker and Sam. Jennifer refers to Kinlaw as "my fourth son." They met in 2016, when Kinlaw showed up at Jennifer's office at Jones College. She ran the adult education program. He needed to earn his GED to qualify academically at South Carolina, where he already had committed.
"He was incredibly solemn and very respectful and just a little bit scared," Griffith recalled. "I hate to say that. It's hard to see somebody that big, kind of looking at you. I had an immediate connection with him that I never had with anybody else -- and haven't had since. I didn't know anything about him. He just looked vulnerable, but he was so respectful and so kind."
To start the registration process, she asked for his driver's license. He didn't have one because he never learned to drive. So she extended a proposition, telling Kinlaw he'd get a driving lesson from her husband each time he passed a section in the GED program.
When he passed the first one, Kinlaw sent her a Facebook message, reminding her of their deal. And so they gave him a driving lesson. Kinlaw took the wheel of the family's Chevy Suburban and navigated the Griffith's 40-acre property with the whole family riding along.
Afterward, they stopped at a bait store in town, bought crickets and taught Kinlaw how to fish -- a hobby he fell in love with. Kinlaw, then 18, was embraced by the Griffiths during his year-plus in Mississippi.
"They taught me a lot of things, just as a family, as a whole," Kinlaw said. "I didn't really know what that dynamic was like. It was kind of uncomfortable at first, but it definitely opened my heart up a lot. I love them to death."
While attending Jones College, Kinlaw spent weekends and holidays at the Griffith's home. Jennifer, concerned about potential injuries, tried to get him to give up football in favor of the school band. That always prompted a funny look.
In 2017, Kinlaw left for South Carolina and the world of big-time college football, but it wasn't goodbye. The Griffiths attended every home game, making the nine-hour drive from Ellisville to Columbia, South Carolina. They left Friday night after their sons' high school football games, drove all night, watched Javon and the Gamecocks on Saturday and made it back for church on Sunday.
These days, Jennifer and Kinlaw talk every day. She wants to make sure he's OK, just like she does with her three sons. Sometimes she checks in before bedtime.
"He was -- and is -- family," Jennifer said.
GRIFFITH REMEMBERS THE first time she prepared a full dinner for Kinlaw. When he was finished, he announced to the table, "I'm full, and I want to thank you for that."
Those few words, so simple, resonated immediately with her.
"I just never considered not being full," Jennifer said. "It hit me then."
Kinlaw experienced food insecurity as a child. After arriving from Trinidad and Tobago in 1995, he lived with his mother and older brother in Washington, D.C. Money was tight and food was scarce, according to Kinlaw. They went from a house to a basement apartment, starting a series of moves around the city. Sometimes they had no place to stay.
Kinlaw has vivid memories of those days: Eating hot dogs day after day because that's all they could afford. Going to school every day in the same clothes. Filling buckets of water from a neighbor's faucet and heating the water on a gas stove so they could take a warm bath. Riding the D.C. Metro for hours just to stay out of the cold in winter.
The hard part, he said, was "just being a kid, going through a lot of trauma, seeing things that kids shouldn't see, from seeing people lose their lives -- whatever you can think of."
Kinlaw doesn't like to talk about that period in his life, but he's quick to say, "It's what made me."
Griffith had no idea about his experiences as a child until later in their friendship. She had an inkling, especially after his dinner-table remark. From that point on, she pampered him. If he was hungry late at night in his dorm room, she'd make egg sandwiches and run them over to the Jones campus.
"He gained a good bit of weight when he was here," she said with a laugh.
Kinlaw's mother, Leesa James-Exum, had recognized their life wasn't conducive to raising a young boy, so she sent him to live with his father in Charleston, South Carolina. It was a difficult decision, but she wanted to get him away from the streets of Washington, D.C. So she put him on a bus with a one-way ticket to South Carolina. He was 13.
Life in Charleston wasn't easy, either. He bounced around, living with friends and in motels. His father was an alcoholic and got physical with him at times, and his live-in girlfriend didn't want Kinlaw around, Kinlaw's coaches at Goose Creek High School told ESPN in 2020.
To get his academics in order, Kinlaw was urged by then-South Carolina coach Will Muschamp to enroll at Jones College. And so he left Goose Creek midway through his senior year. His three semesters in Mississippi were life changing. As he said, "I met a nice family there. They became my family."
Griffith and James-Exum, who lives in Virginia and remains involved in Kinlaw's life, are friends and talk regularly. They've attended football games together to cheer on Kinlaw. Griffith has a tremendous amount of respect for his mother, knowing the circumstances she faced when he was a child.
"I share him as a son with his mother," Griffith said.
KINLAW FINALLY FEELS like he's ready to become the player he always wanted to be. He's healthy, revitalized and bigger than last year.
By design, he gained 35 pounds of "lean muscle mass" during the offseason, he said. His robust meal plan consisted of nine eggs, a whole avocado and spinach for breakfast; six chicken breasts and salad for lunch; a pound of ground beef and pasta for dinner. The rigors of camp caused him to drop a few pounds, putting him at 330. He played last season at 305.
Some might question packing on weight considering his knee issues, but he wanted to strengthen his ability to anchor at the point of attack, helping him against double teams. The early signs are encouraging; he's expected to start at defensive tackle alongside Pro Bowler Quinnen Williams .
"Goodness gracious," defensive coordinator Jeff Ulbrich said of Kinlaw. "I mean it. Have you ever seen a man that made Quinnen Williams (6-3, 303 pounds) look little? It's unbelievable how big he is, how he moves, how he works, and his attitude has been fantastic."
"A ginormous human being," said coach Robert Saleh, who was the 49ers' defensive coordinator Kinlaw's rookie year.
Kinlaw's knee problems started Week 15 of his rookie year, when his right knee slammed into the turf in Dallas. He underwent surgery, then tore his ACL the following season. There were recovery setbacks, limiting him to six games in 2022.
"When he got hurt, I prayed more than I ever have in my life -- and I'm a praying woman," said Griffith, who was in the stands that day in Dallas. "It just broke my heart."
Kinlaw was down, really down. People on social media were cruel, conjuring up painful memories from his childhood in South Carolina, where he was bullied in school because of his clothes and size.
He fought through the funk, got healthy and became a key backup last season on the 49ers' NFC Championship team. He played 26 defensive snaps in their Super Bowl LVIII loss to the Kansas City Chiefs .
The Griffiths didn't make it to Las Vegas for the Super Bowl; the tickets were too expensive, and they refused to let Kinlaw pay out of his own pocket. It certainly wasn't the distance. The family will pack up the Suburban and go just about anywhere to see him.
Last week, the Griffiths made the long drive to New Jersey to visit him for a few days at training camp. They hadn't seen him since January. Kinlaw's mother also came up from Virginia. For the Griffiths, it was absolutely worth the trip. When Jennifer saw him, she was able to wrap him up in a long-awaited hug.
"He's a big fella," she said, "but I can still get a good squeeze on him."
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