Jordan J Wilson

IndyStar

INDIANAPOLIS — There were only two people sitting courtside clad in green Boston Celtics shirts Thursday night at Bankers Life Fieldhouse.

The middle-aged couple — David and Beth Whitfield — sit together and chat with a nearby usher with a folksy, Midwestern charm you might not expect to find from traveling Bostonians. Probably because the Whitfields aren't from Boston. They grew up in Mishawaka near South Bend, met each other in high school — high school sweethearts.

But on a night like this, sitting about midcourt in a sea of riled Indiana Pacers fans, the Whitfields are happy to dress full Boston for their son, former Notre Dame standpoint Demetrius Jackson, who sits on the Celtics bench.

Behind that bench sits another of their six children, Michael Whitfield, who also proudly cheers along for his brother’s team. So do three of Michael’s other four biological siblings from up in a suite, with their grandparents.

This night was special, and not because of anything Jackson would do for the Celtics that game. He was actually inactive. It was because, for the first time since September, nearly the entire Whitfield clan was reunited again, and just in time for the holidays.

“The holidays are always a time that bring us all back to when it first happened, reminds us of everything we went through and our parents did to make it happen,” Michael Whitfield said. “It’s not every day you can meet someone and feel a connection like they’re your family. And every holiday just reminds us of what we did, what we were able to do.”

Jackson is not the Whitfields’ biological son. But never once talking to them would you think he was anything less than a brother, a son, a grandson, a Whitfield.

Jackson was about 13 when he first met Michael while playing AAU basketball, living in his second foster home in less than two years. He still doesn’t talk much publicly about the details that thrust him into foster care, but the short version, according to what Jackson told the Chicago Tribune in 2013, is he left in the interest of “taking some of the burden off of my biological mother” while she coped with his father serving a jail sentence.

For the first few months Michael Whitfield knew Jackson, they were just seventh-grade boys playing basketball together. He knew nothing about the situation until they grew closer, when Jackson started spending weekends at the Whitfield house. David Whitfield would drive the boys to games out of town. Before long, the entire family got to know Jackson, calling him "D" for short.

It was around the holidays when Michael, understanding Jackson’s second foster home was an essentially revolving door for boys if they got in trouble, asked his parents if Jackson could live with them.

“Once Michael asked and we talked to each other and talked to the rest of our kids, there was never a point where, ‘No, we’re not going to do this.’” Beth Whitfield said. “It’s just our life. We were just doing what we thought was right. Other people make a big deal out of it: ‘Oh, we don’t know if we could do that.’ But it’s just normal life for us.”

Of course, there was an adjustment period, where the Whitfields felt they needed to earn Jackson’s trust before he could feel comfortable in their home. As Michael says, it fell more on him understanding that things weren’t the same as in his foster home. If he messed up with the Whitfields, “he was never going to leave.”

Judy Burmeister, Beth’s mother, smiles when she remembers the first Christmas Eve she saw Jackson in church with them all. Jackson wasn't Catholic when he joined the family, but seeing him in the pews, becoming more comfortable with his new family every day, made everything feel whole.

“He was Michael’s buddy, our grandson’s buddy, our buddy,” said Tom Burmeister, Beth’s father. “Everybody was thrilled to have Demetrius join the family. And we’re more impressed with him every day.”

The Whitfields repeat it every time they talk about Jackson: They never knew he would go on to play for Notre Dame and lead the Irish through the NCAA tournament, never knew he would be sitting on the Celtics bench. He was a boy that needed help, and they were a family that could give it. Simple as that.

Though, now that he has reached the highest level, the Whitfields admit it can be hard being away from him. Beth shed a tear on Thanksgiving seeing all of her children at home except for Jackson, who was traveling for Boston. They all FaceTime and text as often as they can, but there is a huge difference from him playing in their backyard for the Irish and playing halfway across the country.

Some things are not different. Whether Jackson can make it home for Christmas Eve, there will still be presents for him waiting underneath the tree in the Whitfield home — although, not too soon, or else Jackson’s 120-pound Mastiff living with the Whitfields might tear them up.

And whenever he does make it home next, it will be like nothing has changed.

“Our lives have changed and that’s for sure, but when he walks in the room, it’s like he’s our brother,” Michael Whitfield said. “It’s not, here’s an NBA player. It’s our brother, the same person we mess around with, same person we joke with. It hasn’t changed at all.”

Follow IndyStar reporter Jordan J. Wilson on Twitter: @Wilsonable07. Email him atjordan.wilson@indystar.com.

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