Allison Holker book takes unflinching look at husband Stephen Boss’ last days

We know that Stephen “tWitch” Boss’ megawatt smile didn’t tell the whole story.

The choreographer, who danced beside Ellen DeGeneres as her DJ and then co-executive producer, and broke through with appearances on “So You Think You Can Dance,” died by suicide in December 2022. He is survived by his wife, fellow dancer Allison Holker, and their three children: Weslie, 16; Maddox, 8; and Zaia, 5.

When exchanging wedding vows in 2013, Holker told Boss, “we don’t know what lies ahead, but what I do know is that I have you. And with you, I, you, our family . . . we can conquer anything.” Two years after Boss’ death, she gives a barefaced look at the wake of grief that follows in her book, “This Far: My Story of Love, Loss, and Embracing the Light” (now available).

“I would never let anyone talk badly about Stephen,” writes Holker, who turns 37 this month. “But is it worth dwelling only on his best qualities, only on what he chose to show the world when there are so many others potentially suffering in silence as he did? I want to give an honest accounting of what was going on ‒ not to blame or shame anybody but to help other people who might see themselves or a loved one in Stephen. If you start seeing the signs I’ve described in someone else, ask questions. Be persistent. It can’t hurt, and it just might save a life.”

Holker wrestled with the decision to write a book, she reveals within its pages. She says Boss gave her approval via a medium who told Holker, “he’s giving his permission to share his other side because he believes it’s important that he is seen ‒ all of him.”

Members of Boss’ family have publicly denounced Holker’s choice to write about him in social media posts, following the revelation that Holker writes of Boss’ alleged drug use. "For the last two years, I have remained quiet and away from the public eye to protect my family,” Boss’ mom, Connie Boss Alexander, shared in a Jan. 9 Instagram post. “But when I read these dreadful claims about my baby, our beloved Stephen, I realized I could not stay silent any longer. Our family will ensure his name and memory are protected, and we are committed to defending his honor."

USA TODAY reached out to Boss' family for comment.

In “This Far,” Holker combs through the months leading up to Boss’ death looking for signs she missed in real time. He began showering less, collecting artwork that Holker found “disturbing,” she writes. “Many were humans either without eyes or with X’s where their eyes should be, or with faces that appeared to be melting or masks that were sliding off.” He became more dependent on marijuana, Holker asserts, “smoking in the morning and at night,” and while working on “Ellen.”

The last night Holker saw Boss alive, he told her he was going to a marijuana dispensary.

“Not long after he left, he called me and sounded freaked out,” she writes. Holker offered to pick him up, “but he couldn’t string a sentence together … he said he didn’t even know where he was.”

Once home, Boss repeatedly told Holker, “I lied,” bewildering his wife. “I asked him questions, but he was incoherent,” she writes. Later, crisis counselors told Holker those who die by suicide typically have attempted before. “The hair on the back of my neck stood up when I heard that,” she writes. “Had Stephen left the house the night before he disappeared with the intent of killing himself only to talk himself out of it?”

The morning after receiving the disturbing phone call, Boss “apologized profusely” for the incident.

As Boss left the house to take Weslie to school, Holker told him, “See you. Love you,” she says. “Those would be the last words I’d ever say to him.” Boss left Weslie at school with, “I wish I could have been your Superman.”

He didn’t meet Holker at their gym or their office as planned. When she arrived home in the afternoon she saw Boss’ car, but he wasn’t home.

The longer he remained away without answering her texts, the more Holker panicked. She phoned hospitals, worried about an accident and jail, concerned about racial profiling. She filed a missing person report, and officers began investigating. Their home’s security camera footage showed Boss being picked up by a ride-hailing service when he should’ve been heading to the gym.

Holker convinced herself that Boss checked himself into rehab, going so far as to leave him an encouraging message at a center minutes from the Encino, California, home they shared, where she thought he might be. But shortly after, a police officer informed Holker, that a deceased Boss had been discovered.

Time stopped for Holker. “I screamed until I was out of breath,” she writes. “It’s really hard to be told your husband is dead. But to be told your husband chose to be dead ‒ that’s impossible to fathom.”

In the chapters that follow, Holker gives readers an unflinching look at the complex emotions constructing her grief.

“Anytime anyone says, ‘I loved your husband,’ I think, 'Me too, but I’m also really, really angry at him for abandoning me,' ” she writes. “I just wish fans could see him not just through their lenses but also through the lenses of the children he left behind, who will never again experience his awesomeness and who are still traumatized by how he left them.”

Holker says she doesn’t, “talk to Stephen anymore like I did the first year he was gone, and that’s OK. I no longer feel tethered to him. The kids and I are slowly but surely shaking free of the trauma that chained us to him.”

Their unit has always been “tight-knit,” she writes, “but after what we’ve gone through my kids have grown even closer… It is healing for me to experience as a parent the inseparable family unit that I have as an adult and longed for as a child.”

If you or someone you know is struggling with mental and/or substance use disorders, you can call the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration's free and confidential treatment referral and information service at 1-800-662-HELP (4357). It's available 24/7 in English and Spanish (TTY: 1-800-487-4889).

If you or someone you know may be struggling with suicidal thoughts, you can call 988 any time day or night, or chat online. Crisis Text Line also provides free, 24/7, confidential support via text message to people in crisis when they dial 741741.

This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: Allison Holker 'This Far': Candid look at Stephen Boss’ last days