On a grim Monday evening in Manhattan, chaos and tragedy unfolded within the towering walls of one of New York’s most prominent office buildings. Shane Devon Tamura, a 27-year-old former football player from Las Vegas, entered the NFL’s headquarters at 345 Park Avenue armed with a long rifle, clad in a bulletproof vest, and driven by a darkness shaped by years of trauma.
What followed was a chilling episode of gunfire, panic, and ultimately, suicide. In the aftermath, investigators discovered a disturbing three-page suicide note in which Tamura blamed his actions on chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), a degenerative brain disease linked to repeated head injuries. The note was not only a confession, but also a plea—to study his brain in hopes of finding the answers he couldn’t find in life.
A Tragic Life Marked by Football and Mental Struggle
Shane Devon Tamura’s connection to football ran deep. Like many young athletes in the United States, he once dreamed of going pro. His youth was filled with competitive games, practices, and the physical demands that often come with playing contact sports at a high level. But behind the Friday night lights and team spirit was a silent risk that would change the course of his life—repeated head trauma. According to his suicide note, Tamura believed he suffered from CTE, a progressive and currently incurable brain condition that has plagued many athletes, especially football players.
CTE, or chronic traumatic encephalopathy, has been studied extensively in former NFL players. It can result in severe behavioral changes, memory loss, emotional instability, depression, and suicidal thoughts. The note made direct reference to Terry Long, a Pittsburgh Steelers player diagnosed with CTE posthumously after he died by suicide in 2005 by drinking antifreeze.
Tamura eerily mimicked Long’s suicide attempt in his note, stating: “Terry Long football gave me CTE, and it caused me to drink a gallon of antifreeze.” Although Tamura ultimately died from a gunshot wound to the chest, the mention of antifreeze indicates he may have tried or considered ingesting poison prior to the shooting.
❗️🚨🇺🇸 – Shane Devon Tamura, 27, from Las Vegas, identified as the suspect in the Midtown Manhattan shooting at 345 Park Avenue.
— 🔥🗞The Informant (@theinformant_x) July 29, 2025
He killed five, including an NYPD officer, and injured six in the 44-story building housing Blackstone and NFL headquarters.
Armed with an AR-style… pic.twitter.com/PxZSNQHa8q
His statement, “You can’t go against the NFL; they’ll squash you,” reflects a deeper sense of powerlessness and resentment. Whether this was directed at the league’s historical resistance to acknowledging the long-term effects of head trauma, or whether it was the cry of a man drowning in paranoia and mental anguish, it is difficult to say. What is certain is that Tamura saw himself as a casualty of the very sport he once loved.
A Chilling Attack in Midtown Manhattan
The incident unfolded inside a 44-story skyscraper in the heart of Midtown Manhattan, housing not only the NFL offices but also major financial institutions like Blackstone and KPMG. Tamura’s calculated arrival—wearing a bullet-resistant vest and carrying a licensed long rifle from Nevada—immediately suggested he had planned the attack carefully. He entered the building around 6:40 p.m., confronting an NYPD officer in a brief exchange of gunfire in the lobby.
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The shootout sparked immediate panic, sending waves of fear throughout the building and the surrounding area. Following the exchange with police, Tamura made his way up to the 33rd floor. He eventually barricaded himself, possibly one floor below on the 32nd, triggering a complete lockdown.
Office workers and visitors remained trapped, unsure of the gunman’s whereabouts, while NYPD and emergency response teams worked to secure the area. Just blocks from Grand Central Station, Rockefeller Center, and the Museum of Modern Art, the incident disrupted one of the busiest commercial corridors in the city.
In the end, Tamura did not take the lives of others during the incident, though the psychological scars left on the witnesses, first responders, and his own family are immeasurable. He ultimately ended his life by shooting himself in the chest. Authorities later recovered his note, in which he made a final plea to study his brain—perhaps in hopes that his story could serve as a cautionary tale, or that science might offer some redemption post-mortem.
CTE, Gun Violence, and a Systemic Crisis
Tamura’s death marks the 254th mass shooting in the United States this year, according to data from the Gun Violence Archive, a nonprofit organization that tracks such incidents. While no additional victims were confirmed in this particular shooting, Tamura’s heavily armed presence and his decision to engage with law enforcement in such a high-profile building underscore the persistent and multifaceted crisis facing the country.
The interplay between mental health, gun access, and untreated trauma is becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. Tamura’s case also highlights a particular vulnerability among athletes, especially those who engaged in contact sports from a young age. Despite growing awareness, many players remain undiagnosed or untreated, as CTE can only be conclusively identified after death. The symptoms often mimic other mental health disorders, leading to misdiagnosis or no diagnosis at all.
Furthermore, Tamura was legally permitted to carry the weapon in Nevada, but brought it across state lines into one of the most densely populated cities in the country. It raises fresh questions about how gun laws vary widely from state to state and the dangers that can arise when these loopholes are exploited.
Political and community leaders responded swiftly. Zohran Mamdani, the frontrunner in New York’s mayoral race, expressed his heartbreak on social media, offering condolences to victims and first responders. New York Governor Kathy Hochul also confirmed she had been briefed on the situation. Their responses reflect the growing pressure on public officials to address not just isolated incidents but the broader cultural and institutional factors that allow them to happen.
Tamura’s suicide note, laced with despair and a desperate call to science, may reignite debates about mental health care, particularly for former athletes and veterans. His request to “study my brain, please” is more than a final wish—it is a challenge to researchers, lawmakers, and sports institutions to take these issues seriously. While his method and actions cannot be justified, they offer an unsettling window into the mind of someone who believed he was already lost.
As the NFL and other professional sports leagues continue to navigate the legacy and liability of CTE, Tamura’s story adds another painful chapter. It also underscores the need for proactive intervention, long-term mental health support, and comprehensive reforms in both healthcare and gun control.
The shooting at 345 Park Avenue may fade from headlines in a matter of days, replaced by the next tragedy. But unless meaningful steps are taken to understand and address the root causes—be they neurological, societal, or institutional—we are doomed to repeat this cycle of violence and grief.