Four months had passed, and Allen thought he would never have to answer for what he'd done. The home owner reported the stolen guns to police upon returning to Lubbock on Jan. 9, three weeks after the burglary, but the case was cold until the victim discovered one of his guns in a pawn shop display case in April. Police traced the sale, which led to the man who bought it from Castaneda. Reporting on the arrest warrant affadavit, a once-public document that Lubbock authorities will no longer release, indicates Castaneda declined to identify his accomplices by name, but told police their jersey numbers. Castaneda disputes that account.
"I never told anyone any jersey numbers," he said. "The police told me they already knew everything."
Police had already spoken to Castaneda on May 3, 2016, the morning when Allen learned they wanted to interview him next. Allen knew he had to make the call that would shake his family to the core. Before he even met with law enforcement, he phoned home, crying, to confess to his father what he'd done.
Keith handed the phone to Stacey; he couldn't listen.
Stacey dropped to her knees and screamed.
One of her first calls was to Anthony, but she was so hysterical, he couldn't make out what she was saying and sped home worried there had been a death in the family. When he arrived, he couldn't believe his ears.
"It sounded like some dumb stuff I would've done back in the day," he said.
The collateral damage from Dakota's arrest for burglary extended to his parents, Keith and Stacey Allen, and beyond. (Courtesy of the Allen family)
Upon pulling into the driveway and seeing Stacey standing outside, Anthony noticed a cigarette in her hand. She had quit smoking two years earlier -- the longest stretch he could ever remember his mom being smoke-free -- and now she was burning Marlboro Lights one after another.
Keith lost his appetite. He subsisted on a sandwich here and there, but lost 15 pounds from the stress within a couple weeks.
To cover the cost of an elite attorney for his son, Keith used money from the sale of his mother's house, which he had sold after Dakota's biggest fan died in 2011.
For all the hardship Allen brought on himself, the depth and scope of which he was only beginning to realize, it was the collateral damage that cut him deepest. From mom's smoking to dad's weight loss, from the attorney fees to the shame on the family name, he owned it all.
"Honestly, the impact on everyone else hurt me more than the impact on me," Allen said.
Two days after calling home, Allen was dismissed from the football program, then later learned he was formally expelled from school. Although Texas Tech policy mandated his expulsion, he was allowed to finish out the final days of the spring semester. While other Texas Tech students studied for final exams during dead week, Allen was shopping for criminal defense attorneys. Not surprisingly, he flunked his final exams the following week, wrecking what had been a stellar academic standing to that point.
The first attorney he sat with advised him to consider a felony burglary charge like a career-ending knee injury where football was concerned. In other words, he'd never play again. His best-case scenario, according to the lawyer, was a few years in prison.
After final exams, Allen came home to an untenable situation.
Keith took his car keys when he walked in the door and could barely speak to his son. Stacey's pain came more from a place of sadness, but Keith was angry. He works from home as a designer of multi-family housing units, so he was around the house all day, stewing while Dakota pondered all that had been laid to waste.
"The look on his face told me he didn't think I was the same person," Dakota said.
He eventually moved in with Anthony to escape the tension at home.
For six weeks, the two bonded in a way they hadn't ever before. Dakota helped Anthony launch a car-detailing business that, nearly three years later, still helps Anthony pay the bills. After his first day on the job, scrubbing cars under 100-degree Texas heat, Dakota vomited on the side of Anthony's house from exhaustion. He hadn't escaped the reality that his life had taken a dramatically bad turn, but he had found a place where, temporarily at least, he didn't feel judged. Anthony had spent his share of time around bad kids and Dakota both, and knew there was still a hell of a big difference.
"I didn't judge him. I don't judge anybody, but especially not my baby brother," he said.
Stacey made dinner for the family on Sunday nights, hoping for ice to break between father and son. But Dakota didn't feel comfortable under his own roof; Anthony forced him to go, even though he knew Stacey's cooking would be eaten in silence.
"You could feel the elephant in the room," Anthony said. "Keith wouldn't smile. He'd give Dakota a couple death stares, and not say anything. I wanted him to relax, but I could understand his frustration."