BRONCO'S BROTHERLY LOVE

Armour Misses Older Brother Who Died

MIAMI -- The bear hugs are what Justin Armour misses most, the times when
his older brother Jason used those meaty arms to hoist him off the ground.
If Jason were here, Justin's week would be one giant hugfest.

But Jason is not here. He died of a heroin overdose three years ago,
leaving a hole the size of Colorado in his brother's heart.

``Everything's affected,'' said Justin, a record-setting receiver at
Stanford who plays for the Denver Broncos. ``My life will be different
forever because of that. It won't necessarily be worse, but it's going to
be different.''

In many respects, Justin's life has not strayed far from perfection. Not
only was he the golden-boy quarterback at Manitou Springs (Colo.) High, he
carried a 4.0 grade-point average, was class valedictorian and president,
and dedicated countless hours to volunteer work. His striking good looks
made him a natural for the lead role in the school play. Sports Illustrated
trumpeted his talents with a four-page article.

Armour's heroics would lead him to Stanford, where he moved to wide
receiver and set a school record with 2,482 receiving yards, and graduated
with a degree in public policy.

Buffalo drafted Armour in the fourth round in 1995, and he caught three
touchdown passes his rookie season. His career hit a pothole the next
season when he suffered a foot injury and was placed on injured reserve. He
then bounced from Philadelphia to the 49ers before landing a job with
Denver this season. He was activated for half of the 1998 regular-season
games, catching one pass for 23 yards, and so far has not been activated
for the playoffs.

Armour is far from an NFL star, or even a starter, but he has survived a
personal nightmare. Often, getting through the day is a triumph. He has to
take deep breaths when he tells his brother's story. Some memories make his
chin tremble.

`The life of our family'

``Jason was really bright,'' he said. ``That came out mostly in his sense
of humor. He was definitely the life of our family. At any kind of family
function or anything like that, he just carried himself in such a way that
constantly kept you entertained. You were either laughing at him or with
him. People felt real comfortable around him and looked forward to seeing
him again.''

A hulking man at 6-foot-4, 235 pounds, Jason played on the development
squad for the Colorado Barbarians, a professional rugby team. He was
boisterous and fiercely proud of his little brother.

``He was the guy who, when the team's walking by, would be screaming in the
crowd, embarrassing you,'' Justin said. ``I hated it sometimes, but in my
memory it's pretty funny.''

Justin, meanwhile, is religious and low-key. He recently was a guest on
``Politically Incorrect'' and revealed his virginity, which, to his mild
irritation, made headlines in Denver.

In many ways, he and his older brother were from different planets. Jason
was three years older and, in many ways, a polar opposite. Whereas Justin
first tasted beer at 21, Jason drank his first in sixth grade. Jason was
using drugs in junior high and was kicked out of several high schools.

``I was young, but I knew everything was getting pretty screwed up at our
house,'' Justin recalled. ``He was never around. I was kind of in denial or
wanted to be, so I didn't really ask that much. But I pretty much figured
out something wasn't right. As I got older and in eighth grade or my
freshman year, it was pretty clear what was ruining my brother's life.''

Graduated a month apart

Jason died shortly after he appeared to have his life under control. He
completed a drug-rehabilitation program by the time his younger brother was
a senior in high school, and when Justin was at Stanford, Jason was
attending Colorado State. The brothers graduated a month apart, Jason
finishing at the top of his class with a degree in microbiology.

The summer before they graduated, the brothers bought motorcycles and
toured the country. For the first time in years, they were best friends.
Justin will never forget the night in Elko, Nev., when he was searching for
answers.

``I was asking him why he chose that for himself, what was going on in his
life,'' Justin said. ``What he said to me probably scared me more for the
young people in this country than anything else. He said, `I don't know.'
46irst it was kind of dumb to me, but then I thought, of course he didn't
know. He wouldn't have chosen that for himself. It's like people who find
themselves robbing a store all of a sudden. You don't plan when you're in
sixth grade to die of a drug overdose when you're 26.''

Of course, that's what happened. Soon after graduating from college, Jason
relapsed and began dabbling in drugs again.

``He kind of lost his motivation temporarily because he had reached his
goal (of getting a degree),'' Justin said. ``I don't know if you'd call it
relaxed, but he let his guard down and forgot that he was a recovering drug
addict. From what we could tell, he started to use recreationally again.
The night he died, they found very high levels of concentrated heroin in
his system.''

`I went stone cold'

That same night, Feb. 21, 1996, Justin and his sister, Nicole, were
attending a Christian conference in South Florida. Their father called and
broke the news.

``I went stone cold,'' Justin said. ``Emotionless, really.''

The emotional floodgates opened when he stepped into his brother's home in
Fort Collins, Colo., and later while delivering the eulogy when he turned
and had angry words for Jason's drug-using friends.

``There was extreme hate in me, particularly when he died,'' Justin said.
``I admitted to the hate during his eulogy. But I also said I'd pray for
those people that were involved. I knew over time that I'd forgive them,
God would give me that grace to be able to do that. And he did.

``It's only a matter of time before you realize that no amount of hate you
could have for a person compares to the hate they have for themselves.
Their punishment is the fact that they've got to live with themselves. I
can't add to that.''

Jason had put his name on a list to buy a Harley-Davidson and waited years
for the chance. Justin wound up buying the bike as a tribute to his brother.

``I never really rode it,'' he said, ``but it was nice to just remind me of
him.''

He sold the Harley two weeks ago after witnessing a fatal motorcycle
accident in Denver. Now, Justin honors his brother by telling his story to
high school students.

``There's a story to be told,'' he said. ``If I tell a million kids and one
listens, well . . . ''