A Constance reminder

Wednesday, Dec. 4, 2002 | 9:45 a.m.

A voice in the back of Constance Jinks' mind wouldn't go away that night in September 2000. Call your father. Just one more video game. Call your father. Soon enough, the screen and buttons and mental video gymnastics had lulled her to sleep.

The next day, Sept. 23, the UNLV guard, then a sophomore, was handed a message to call her mother, Karen, in Chicago. Constance immediately knew something was wrong because the note was as urgent as it was rare, since Karen Jinks works during the day.

Back in her dorm room, Constance was told by her mother that her father, James Lanier, had been killed by a single gunshot to the back of his head.

"I just broke down," Constance Jinks said. "I just went blank. I was in a four-walled room with nothing else around. I was sitting there, alone in that room, and no one could help me. I struggled. I didn't want to go on. I just shut down."

Karen and James had separated when Constance was in the sixth grade, when she had grown accustomed to the many fans who called her "Baby Mike" because of some similarities between her game and the star of the Chicago Bulls.

Older brothers James Jr. and Corey divorced themselves from their father's life, and Karen told him not to come around. But Constance stayed in touch with him, and within the last year of Lanier's life the two talked on the telephone often.

James Lanier had been planning to visit Las Vegas and see a UNLV women's basketball game or two before his life ended tragically.

Two weeks ago, Constance Jinks had a cross, draped by a banner reading "In God's Hands" with "James" above it, tattooed on her left biceps.

"I was his little girl," Jinks said. "He wanted to be (with the family), so I didn't have any tension toward him. I thought, 'That's still my dad, no matter where he is.' We were close. I just never felt anything against him.

"I'm OK. It's still on my mind, I just need something to get it out. Every time I get frustrated or feeling down about something, I'm like, 'He's watching me, I can't let him see me like this.' It's a motivating factor. My father wouldn't want me to fail."

Jinks has been faring very well, leading the 3-1 Lady Rebels with 24 points a game. Long known for her splendid skills as a penetrator, two summers of honing her perimeter touch have paid off handsomely as Jinks is sinking 45.5 percent of her 3-point attempts.

Lady Rebels coach Regina Miller's interest in her growth as a person, though, is what originally drew Jinks to Las Vegas and away from other programs, such as Texas-El Paso. The other coaches talked about hoops, but Miller talked about life.

Unfortunately, death tightened the bond between Miller and Jinks. The spring before James Lanier was killed, Miller's mother, Ruby, died.

Miller helped Jinks form a positive outlook, that Lanier's spirit still lived within her, the daughter who looked so much like him. Miller accompanied Jinks on a flight to Chicago and to Lanier's funeral.

Miller knew her player's parents had been estranged, that Jinks did not have a day-to-day relationship with her father. Miller also thought she had an accurate gauge on Jinks' mental toughness and emotional strength.

"Sometimes, (when) you see the hard shell on the outside ... it's not so hard," Miller said. "I saw emotion, a lot of feeling. A lot of pain. You have to be truly close to Constance to really get to know Constance. It takes time in order for her to trust someone.

"In three and a half years, we've built a level of trust. It helped me with her, as far as helping her continue to grow and develop as a young person. That was one thing I told her when she came here, that this is her home away from home. We're a family, and I'm like a mom."

After the funeral, Jinks could not bear to attend the burial. She believes her father is alive, that the blood pumping through her system is his. She made it through the 2000-01 school year, then spent that summer at home, working on her game.

The subject of James Lanier -- and the circumstances of his death -- was never raised.

"It's a touchy issue, because they don't know what happened, either," Jinks said. "It's not a dead issue, because my mom, she knows ... I still hurt from it. She doesn't bring it up. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about it. It still makes me cry, and I'm not done dealing with it."

Jinks, 21, hasn't allowed herself to completely grieve over her father's death. She has wanted nothing to interfere with her becoming a better player, improving her team in the process. In each of her three seasons, she has improved her scoring, free-throw shooting and total rebounds and assists.

"She's a smart player and a very good team player, and that's what makes her an even better person," said senior guard Julia Gray.

When she first visited Las Vegas, Jinks said she felt like Miller would take care of her. If anything happened, she would always have her coach to fall back on. That was the light during the darkest period of Jinks' life.

"Anywhere else, they probably would have given up on me, just told me to go home. They would have let me quit," Jinks said. "Coach Miller told me I wasn't a quitter. I knew I wasn't, but she brought it out of me. She wouldn't let me quit. That made me believe that this was the place I was meant to be.

"I didn't feel that anywhere else. I felt it here, and that has proven me right."