The quiet corners of Ashland and Catlettsburg, Kentucky, are wrapped in grief, sorrow, and unanswered questions following the tragic death of 17-year-old Kylie Crooks—a senior at Boyd County High School, a standout volleyball player, a dedicated worker, and a beloved daughter, sister, and friend. The names Brianna Crooks, Kylie’s sister and a former athlete herself, and parents Teresa Savage Crooks and Steve Crooks, have become central to a community-wide mourning that has rippled far beyond the boundaries of Boyd County. This tragedy, unfolding in late June 2025, has become more than a personal family loss—it has reverberated across schools, teams, workplaces, and faith communities, leaving a profound void where promise, youth, and athletic brilliance once resided.

Kylie Crooks’ death was confirmed on Friday, June 20th, 2025, after authorities in Ashland, Kentucky, responded to a devastating incident that left the teen dead at the scene. Details of the incident remain under investigation, and authorities have yet to publicly clarify whether Kylie’s death resulted from suicide, accident, or foul play. The ambiguity has added a layer of confusion and emotional turbulence to an already wrenching loss, forcing friends, teammates, and classmates to navigate mourning without closure.

Born and raised in Catlettsburg, Kylie was deeply woven into the cultural and social fabric of Boyd County. She was on the brink of graduation—an academic milestone that would have been marked by cap and gown, senior photos, proud family cheers, and the bittersweet goodbye to high school life. That this moment will never arrive for her has left not just her family but her entire community confronting a cruel reality that feels too sudden, too unjust, and too hollow to fully comprehend.

A Rising Star on the Court and Beyond

Kylie Crooks was not just a name on a school roster. She was the kind of student-athlete whose presence lifted others. Known for her work ethic and leadership, she played volleyball at a level far beyond the expectations often set for a high school athlete. As a member of the KCU women’s volleyball team and the Bluegrass Volleyball Academy (BVA), Kylie competed at a level that demanded discipline, drive, and deep passion for the game.

Volleyball was not simply a sport for Kylie—it was a part of her identity. Her time at BVA especially speaks to her athletic ambition. The academy, known for producing top-tier talent in the state of Kentucky, helped foster Kylie’s skills through grueling training regimens and competitive national-level tournaments. Most recently, her BVA team, BVA 17 BoCo, was preparing for Wave 3 of the AAU Nationals. The timing could not have been more bittersweet. As the team set out to compete, they found themselves instead mourning the absence of their spirited teammate. Their coaches and peers vowed to “play in her memory,” a phrase that now carries both symbolic weight and raw emotional urgency.

The BVA’s official statement was direct, sincere, and deeply mournful: “We know that they will honor her life and legacy by playing in her memory. Go kill it for Kylie, ladies.” The quote captures the way athletes deal with loss—through action, performance, and silent tribute that happens mid-jump, in a dig, in a spike, and in the unspoken moments before the whistle blows.

A Life Balanced with Dedication and Work

Athletic commitments aside, Kylie was also a diligent student and a contributing member of her local economy. She worked after school at Backyard Pizza of Boyd County, a popular local establishment known for more than just its food—it serves as a communal hub for young people, families, and local sports teams. To her coworkers, Kylie wasn’t just a name on the schedule. She was a reliable, friendly, and radiant presence.

Backyard Pizza’s response to Kylie’s passing was as heartfelt as it was practical: they closed their doors “until further notice,” not out of mere formality, but as an expression of collective grief. “Out of respect and to allow our staff time to grieve and support one another,” the restaurant announced, recognizing that its community needed more than condolences—it needed time to begin the difficult process of mourning.

That a local business would shut down entirely speaks volumes about Kylie’s impact. In many towns like Ashland and Catlettsburg, where high school sports teams can be the lifeblood of community identity, a young woman like Kylie—who excelled on the court and served pizza with a smile—embodied a dual role: she was both hero and helper, achiever and peer.

The Family’s Public Pain

The Crooks family, especially Teresa Savage Crooks, Steve, and Brianna, are now navigating the impossible terrain of public grief. Kylie’s name, once associated with school schedules, sports programs, and team rosters, is now engraved in tributes and memorials. Her sister Brianna—a KCU softball alumna—shares an especially poignant connection with her younger sibling, both of them athletic achievers who represented their schools and teams with pride.

Statements from the family have requested that the public remember “Kylie’s friends, siblings, parents… and the entire school community in their prayers.” The very language of the request underscores the breadth of Kylie’s reach and the collective nature of the trauma.

Grief in the public eye is never easy, and for the Crooks family, the emotional landscape has been made all the more complex by the lingering questions surrounding the circumstances of Kylie’s death. That the article openly mentions the possibility of “Suicide, accident, murder…” without confirmation only deepens the heartache, introducing a cruel uncertainty that can delay or even prevent healing.

A School Mourns a Senior

At Boyd County High School, where Kylie was set to graduate this year, the loss has been described as a “hole in everyone’s heart.” That expression, while perhaps familiar, is tragically accurate in this case. Schools function as much more than educational institutions; they are cultural ecosystems, places where students not only learn but define who they are. Kylie’s role in that system—as a senior, athlete, and friend—meant that her absence reshapes the very energy of the school.

Graduation season, typically filled with celebration and hope, has now become a time of mourning. Commencement ceremonies that might have featured Kylie walking across the stage to collect her diploma are now haunted by her absence. It is not uncommon for schools to hold a moment of silence or dedicate a seat to a fallen student during such ceremonies—a gesture that, while powerful, can never truly encapsulate the depth of loss.

Teachers, coaches, guidance counselors, and fellow students are grappling with emotional fallout. The school’s administration has yet to release a public statement, but their silence may be strategic—allowing space for the family to speak first, and giving the community time to process.

KCU Volleyball: Athletic Community in Shock

The KCU women’s volleyball program, which posted an official message of condolence, described the team as “truly saddened and heartbroken by the passing of Boyd County volleyball player Kylie Crooks.” This wasn’t just a perfunctory post. It was layered with personal resonance. Kylie’s sister Bri had played for KCU’s softball team, creating a familial link to the university’s broader athletic community. Kylie’s presence in KCU volleyball, even at a high school level, suggests she was on a trajectory to join the ranks of collegiate athletes—an achievement that not only reflects talent but long-term dedication.

Athletics at this level are not just about ability; they require time, sacrifice, and relentless training. That Kylie had carved out a space for herself within the KCU volleyball orbit shows she was seen as more than a hopeful recruit—she was considered part of the larger KCU athletic family. For that family, her death is akin to losing one of their own.

Community Responses: From Pizza Ovens to Prayer Circles

Every corner of Boyd County seems to have absorbed the impact of Kylie’s death. From the volleyball courts of Bluegrass Academy to the kitchen of Backyard Pizza, from school hallways to Facebook tribute pages, the response has been swift, emotional, and overwhelmingly unified in its grief.

What has emerged in the wake of her death is a portrait of a young woman who was not only admired for what she did, but for how she did it—with spirit, grace, and unwavering effort. Tributes have painted a consistent picture: Kylie was not just a student, athlete, or employee—she was an energizing force, one whose light reached well beyond her immediate circle.

The Lingering Questions

As with any sudden and unexplained death, speculation is inevitable. The final line of the article—“Suicide, accident, murder…”—hangs in the air like an unfinished sentence. Each word carries a different narrative, a different implication, and a different kind of mourning. The community has been left to oscillate between grief and confusion, unable to properly process one without the other.

That the cause of death has not yet been publicly clarified opens a psychological void that only confirmed information can fill. For families, this uncertainty can be emotionally destabilizing. For law enforcement, it places pressure to provide answers swiftly but responsibly. For the public, it prompts uncomfortable introspection about how we treat mental health, youth pressures, and community safety.

The Road Ahead

Funeral arrangements have not yet been announced, though they are expected soon. These services will likely draw a large cross-section of the community—from volleyball teammates to restaurant coworkers, classmates to extended family. The ceremony will offer an opportunity not only to say goodbye but to attempt, however imperfectly, to make sense of the loss.

The legacy of Kylie Crooks will live on in many forms: in the chants of volleyball teams competing in her name, in the closed doors of a restaurant that still holds her memory, and in the hearts of her family, particularly her sister Brianna, whose own athletic career serves as both a shared memory and a private grief.

This tragedy has called forth the very best in Boyd County—the compassion, solidarity, and emotional depth of a community that refuses to let one of its own be forgotten. But it has also left wounds that may never fully heal, questions that may never be answered, and dreams that will now never be realized.

If and when details surrounding the incident are released by investigators, the community will be asked once again to absorb, adjust, and respond. Until then, Kylie’s story remains one of unrealized potential, interrupted joy, and the power of a young woman who touched more lives in 17 years than many do in a lifetime.