Seventeen years ago this Fourth of July, one of the toughest quarterbacks ever to play the game was found executed in his own condo, and the country moved on.

Steve McNair—a man who played through injuries that would sideline lesser athletes, who shared an NFL MVP award and came within a yard of a Super Bowl championship—died at 36, shot twice in the chest and twice in the head. Nashville police ruled it a murder-suicide: his 20-year-old girlfriend, Sahel Kazemi, pulled the trigger and then turned the gun on herself. The case was closed and never reopened.

The details have never added up. As NBC Sports noted in its anniversary acknowledgment, Kazemi had reportedly never owned a gun. McNair was shot execution-style—four rounds, two center mass, two to the head. Questions lingered about whether someone else was involved. A 2018 SI.com podcast series revisited the murder, but no authority ever reopened the investigation. A man who gave everything on the field got no resolution off it.

McNair was the third overall pick in the 1995 draft. He led the Titans to Super Bowl XXXIV, nearly throwing a late touchdown that could have forced overtime—or set up an all-or-nothing two-point conversion—against the Rams. He shared the 2003 NFL MVP with Peyton Manning. He finished his career with two seasons in Baltimore. The Titans retired his number 9 and placed him in their Ring of Honor. He was 36 years old when he died.

NBC Sports at least marked the anniversary. The rest of the entertainment press had other priorities. Rolling Stone and Deadline both spent their July 4th coverage celebrating Beyoncé's surprise release of a track called "Morning Dew (Donk)," a "direct nod to her loyal BeyHive" and the start of a 60-day countdown to the 20th anniversary reissue of her 2006 album B'Day. The song, co-written with Pharrell Williams and The-Dream, is her first new music in two years. Rolling Stone called it "fireworks." Deadline praised the "slow-groove tune" and recited chart statistics.

An American sports icon dies under circumstances that don't pass the smell test, and the culture machine churns on without him. That's not an accident. It's a choice about what—and who—matters.

The McNair case file sits closed. The questions don't.