Twigg's daughter, Kate Arrildt, was a freshman in 1998. Like Lee and several other players, Arrildt was at Woodlawn for a small academic magnet program, a status that made it even trickier to navigate the ninth-grade social minefield.


But once the lacrosse season started, Arrildt said, Lee found her.

"I would say that she loved lacrosse, but it would be just as true to say she loved everything," Arrildt said in a long email response to an inquiry about Lee. "She was hell-bent on bringing you along for the ride."


Despite being two years ahead of her, Arrildt said, Lee offered her "warmth and safety" at Woodlawn.


"She was just beautiful," Arrildt said. "She made every play look like it was choreographed — like the defenders knew just when to make a dangerous lunge, but let her squeak by with a perfect little twist, leaving her free and clear and making her skirt flair out in model-like fashion."

Lee loved to attack from behind the goal.

"She would plunge right up to a waiting defender until they were almost nose-to-nose and then turn her shoulders with a casual flick," Arrildt said. "It looked like she was throwing a little fake, until you saw the ripple in the top corner of the net and realized she had scored. Again."


Lee's teammates have few memories of Wilds, the key witness in Syed's murder trial who was a senior in 1998, beyond his hair, which several said he wore in an Afro style and often dyed.

But Donnie Brown, Woodlawn's boys' coach, remembered Wilds as "the kind of player who would run through a wall for you." Brown is a well-known figure in Baltimore lacrosse circles for promoting the game in low-income neighborhoods. He also played on the 1981 Morgan State team that reached the NCAA Division II semifinals, the best tournament run of any team from an historically black college.


At Woodlawn, Brown said, Wilds was like many of his players who had not played before high school. Fewer still could afford the required equipment. But as a sales rep for STX, Brown said he convinced the company to outfit both the boys' and girls' teams with full equipment, based on local investment incentives for low-income neighborhoods.

"We got the equipment and they got the tax break," Brown said.

Dorsey, who had played since fourth grade before arriving at Woodlawn in 1998, said Wilds welcomed him. "He was very supportive, and excited about me transferring and us playing together," Dorsey said. "He was our best defensive player, and he was a good teammate."


Efforts to contact Wilds directly and through friends for this story were unsuccessful. And while the women did not know as much about Wilds, they knew Syed well. They recalled him as quiet and kind, well-liked and popular.

Twigg, who hasn't followed Serial and didn't know doubts had surfaced about Syed's guilt, remembered his conviction. "I was horrified, because he was a boy who would come to all of our games and some of our practices," she said. "It did seem, um, odd."


Odd that he watched practice?

"No," Twigg clarified. "I thought that was kind of wonderful. It wasn't like he was stalking or anything, He was there being supportive. I thought it was odd that he could have killed her. It was unfathomable."


Del Hughes was Woodlawn's head coach. A career football coach who has three daughters, Hughes began coaching girls' lacrosse just a few years before Lee's death.

"If we had more people like Hae, things would have gone a little better," he said. "Some of the kids got a little discouraged. But no matter what happened on the field, you could get pepped up by how Hae reacted."


Hughes related to the team more as a father figure than a gruff football coach, his former players said. Lee's death shocked him.

"It was very devastating, because she was such a bright spot," he said.

One of Serial's most memorable segments recounts Lee's junior prom, which Koenig pegs as the beginning of her romance with Syed. Sometime that night, Lee posed for a traditional prom picture. She gave Hughes and several teammates wallet-sized copies.


Through every coaching job he has had since, Hughes has kept the photo in his desk.

"Every so often, I'll be moving stuff around and see it and think, 'Wow,'" he said. "She was so much fun."


There's one problem with the picture, though.

Lee isn't smiling.

"I can't really even remember what she looks like without a huge grin on her face," Arrildt said.


There is one element of the prom picture Arrildt remembered well: her very non-Hae high heels.

"She wore the awful things to school every single day for two weeks," Arrildt said. "I remember standing outside on a particularly frigid early spring morning and laughing as I looked up into [her] grin — only it was elevated about six inches."


More from Lacrosse Magazine:

Lyle Thompson, from the reservation to the best in the world

Why there are so many lacrosse players in the military's special forces

What happened to the boy from one of the Iraq war's most iconic photos?

Matt White was a Pararescueman (PJ) in the U.S. Air Force and Alaska Air National Guard. He has written for Los Angeles Magazine, Washingtonian and SB Nation.