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Gordon Monson: After a basketball player’s alleged DUI, BYU is dealing with the wrong kind of attention

Guard Kennard Davis’ alleged DUI involved “possession by consumption” of marijuana, a new police report says.

(Bethany Baker | The Salt Lake Tribune) BYU Cougars guard Kennard Davis Jr. (30) dunks the ball during the game between the BYU Cougars and the North Carolina Tar Heels at Delta Center on Oct. 24, 2025.

And so, the brilliance and the backfiring at BYU begins anew.

Only this time, the intensity of the bright lights is hotter than ever before.

Those lights turn on when the school hires a high-profile coach straight out of the NBA, pays him a bazillion dollars to lead its basketball program away from the realm of the also-rans and into national prominence. And that coach, swimming in NIL money, then recruits players who are unlike most of the talent the Cougars have settled for in the past, players who ordinarily never would have considered a church school like BYU, with its quirks, its religion classes, its location out in the mountains somewhere, its good-but-not-great hoops legacy, and its Honor Code, which prohibits a lot of the things so many college students at other places enjoy and indulge in, sometimes to excess.

And when some of that runs headlong into the law — not just ecclesiastical, but of the land — it draws a whole lot of attention.

Ironically, it’s attention BYU seeks. But not the kind that came to the Cougars when starting guard Kennard Davis was cited by police in Provo on Thursday, suspected of driving under the influence. A redacted police report requested and received by The Salt Lake Tribune indicates that Davis’ alleged offense involved “possession by consumption” of marijuana.

That’s a problem anywhere — and it can happen anywhere — but it’s double the trouble at BYU.

First, like in all programs, Cougar athletes can’t break the law as Davis is alleged to have done. Second, smoking marijuana, even in one’s private moments, is a BYU Honor Code no-no, even if it is legal under certain circumstances in some states. Utah isn’t one of them, not recreationally.

That’s what Provo police say led an officer — when called near midday to the scene of an auto accident involving Davis, who was driving to the airport for BYU basketball’s trip to Boston to play UConn — to place the player under arrest. The officer noticed evidence of marijuana in the car, according to the report, and hauled Davis in for the violation. The player later was released and traveled with the team on its trip, although he did not play in the game. His benching by way of an unspecified violation of team rules was highlighted in a national broadcast of the game.

All of that placed against the backdrop of recruiting players, really gifted ones, who ordinarily might not be a great fit for a school owned and operated by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, brings to question whether an ambitious drive for winning is worth the difficulties that come with it to the university. That’s followed up by another question: How often is this going to happen, when the engine behind attracting talented athletes is fueled by drawing them in with money and with a desire to get to the NBA? Or in football, to the NFL? Those pursuits often have nothing to do with scrubbed-clean living, the kind BYU contracts its students to abide by and adhere to.

We’ve only heard law enforcement’s side of the allegations against Davis. And he might be a fantastic dude, a good friend, a wonderful person. There’s this, though: When BYU started drawing in extraordinary athletes like him, there was a whispered suspicion among more than a few regarding at least some of their sincere or insincere commitments to honoring the school’s behavioral code. Was there a wink and a nod in those deals?

Love it or hate it, love or hate the way it sometimes is enforced, the Honor Code remains in place. And when potential attendant legal issues emerge, not entirely unlike what happened initially with quarterback Jake Retzlaff earlier this year, a lid is blown off the barrel.

And BYU looks no different than any other school, despite its highfalutin standards, and its desire to use BYU sports as a missionary tool.

Yeah, mistakes are made sometimes, even by near-angelic types. Players aren’t perfect, students aren’t perfect. I’m not saying that great athletes can’t or won’t live by the school’s rules, not saying that they’ll automatically make a mockery of what BYU and the church that stands behind it hopes to stand for. It could be that regular students — students, say, born and raised in Utah County — who agree to obey the law, to avoid and abstain from drugs and alcohol and premarital sex and the like may have every intention of actually doing so, and then fall short along the way. They are human, after all.

But most students don’t grab headlines the way famous athletes do. And grabbing headlines is what coaches like Kevin Young and the school itself want those athletes to do. They want BYU’s teams to thrive, to win games, to win conference championships and national championships. If they do that, the school’s profile rises, as does awareness about the religion that sponsors the whole endeavor.

Since Young took over Cougar basketball, he and his program have brought all kinds of notice to BYU and its owner. The Cougars signed Egor Demin, a phenom from Russia who helped them make it to the Sweet 16 of the NCAA Tournament last season, a kid who now is starring for the Brooklyn Nets. They signed AJ Dybantsa, the No. 1 prospect in the world, a player many believe will be the top pick in next year’s NBA Draft. That successful recruitment alone brought a burning spotlight focused directly on BYU. They hauled in a transfer from Baylor, Robert Wright III, another skilled athlete with designs on playing in the NBA. And capable guys like Davis, who transferred from Southern Illinois, among others. It’s not just the money, it’s a belief among them that Young will help get them to the next level.

These are players BYU in the past never would have gotten, many of them not members of the LDS Church, some of them strangers wandering in a strange land to which they are not accustomed.

Some of these players will do fine in Provo. They’re honest, straight-talking, straight-walking individuals who will adjust to the school and its rules, go to class for a semester or two or however long, collect their NIL money, advance their basketball skills right on schedule, and then turn pro. There’s nothing wrong with pursuing excellence in any and all endeavors. They’ll probably win many games and many of them might learn to love being at BYU and in its unique environment.

And in doing so, they’ll bring acclaim to BYU.

As mentioned, the same week of Davis’ troubles, the then-No. 7 Cougars played third-ranked UConn on Saturday in a nationally-anticipated game. A game BYU lost, but that featured a thrilling finish.

But there also will be some who will play games on the court and off it, too, never intending to follow the rules, never intending to get any sort of education, never really being a part of what BYU is selling, other than whatever adds to their own advantages.

It’s a risk BYU is now taking, asking first — Can you ball? — and asking second — Can you live by the Code? Can you not get arrested?

BYU takes a risk with all its enrollees, wherever they come from, whatever they hope to accomplish at the school — from engineering and pre-med students to biology and communication majors, from followers of the faith to followers of little or no faith.

It’s just that inside the prominent and celebrated world of major college sports, BYU had best get ready for the cons, the blowback, that sometimes come with the pros, the glory, as it chases athletes, a few of whose priorities may center on something other than the BYU ideal, something other than living by a strict behavioral code to which the school insists on maintaining, something other than reading the Book of Mormon, saying prayers, finding faith and living spotless, celestial, ever-commendable lives.