When Stephen 'tWitch' Boss' Widow Allison Holker Was Told He Died, 'I Raced Down the Hallway, Shrieking' (Exclusive)

Allison Holker lived every woman’s worst nightmare in December 2022 when she learned that her husband had been found dead.

After spending the day frantically trying to locate Stephen “tWitch” Boss, who had been missing for more than 24 hours, the dancer, 36, made sure he secretly checked into a treatment center to address his marijuana use.

After taking his own life at the age of 40, Holker — who became a single mother to daughters Weslie, 16, and Zaia, 5, and son Maddox, 8 — revealed he battled “terrible” demons, including a hidden drug addiction and unresolved childhood trauma.

Harper Select

Below, in an exclusive excerpt from her upcoming memoir, This Far: My Story of Love, Loss, and Embracing the Light (out February 4), Holker describes the devastating moment the police arrived at her door to say her boss had died.

For more on Allison Holker, pick up the latest issue of PEOPLE, on newsstands Friday, or subscribe here.

Boss Stephen ‘tWitch”s Widow Allison Holker Reveals His Drug Addiction In ‘Very Scary’ Moment Ahead Of Funeral (Exclusive)

December 13, 2022, dawned a chilly 44 degrees in the greater Los Angeles area, the coldest temperature the area has recorded all month. But the rawness I felt had nothing to do with time. I took the children to school and then searched the house. What was I looking for? I had no idea, but I thought I would know if I saw it.

On Stephen’s nightstand there was one thing worth noting: a letter from two weeks ago in which he pledged to quit weed. Stephen typed out his words, originally written in the notes app on his phone, and signed them with his name.

As soon as I could, I filed an official missing person’s report. I begged the policeman on duty to help me find my husband. “He’s got to be hurt somewhere,” I said. That was the most likely scenario for me.

Stephen ‘tWitch’ Boss in July 2022.

Nathan Congleton/NBC via Getty Images

The police had other theories. They asked if we had a fight. If there was abuse in the home. If he had a history of adultery. Every question was like a blow to the body. My trust in the police began to waver. I kept thinking about what Stephen said about black people and the police. It hit me: I don’t just miss my husband. I miss the black man. Will they go to such lengths to find him?

Allison Holker talks about unimaginable trauma to encourage others to seek help: ‘I can’t do it alone’ (Exclusive)

I was convinced that he must be injured or lost somewhere. I tried to convey to the police what they did not understand: “Stephen is the most devoted husband and loving father.” We just got back from a lovely anniversary weekend, for goodness sake. “We’re happy,” I told them—as a little voice in my head whispered, Right?

Two police officers followed me home to look around. They accessed our security camera footage, which showed Stephen getting into the Uber car around the time he was supposed to meet me at the gym. He had that ubiquitous black backpack over his shoulder.

The officers asked me if Stephen had a gun. I knew he bought one in 2020 during the pandemic. He was scared because the city was experiencing a great increase in riots and robberies. Several houses in our neighborhood have already been affected. But I had no idea where he kept his gun or if he even knew how to handle it. I vaguely remembered that he might have gone to the shooting range once. Sneaking around, the officers found the gun case unlocked and the gun missing. The likely consequences of his absence completely passed over my head. I had no explanation as to why the gun was missing. The police officers kept all doubts to themselves.

Allison Holker at home in LA on December 11th.

John Russo

At the suggestion of a friend, I started calling recovery centers in the radius created by the police. Given his struggles with smoking and drinking, I thought it was likely that he checked into rehab. To my surprise, there were several centers near our house.

Allison Holker thanks late husband Stephen ‘tWitch’ Boss for ‘watching over’ their family 2 years after his death

The first few contacts I made I was told, “He’s an adult. So even if he is here, we are not at liberty to tell you without his permission.” Okay, okay, okay.

The last recovery center I called was six minutes from our home. The woman who answered said the same as the others. I begged her. I said I understood privacy laws and promised not to report her if he was there and she told me. I just wanted to know if he was safe. She calmly replied, “Well, I can’t tell you if he’s here, but if he is, would you like to leave him a message?”

My heart almost exploded in my chest. I took her words as an unconfirmed confirmation. “That!” I said. “Please tell him I love him very much. And I’m so proud of him for making this choice. Our family will stand behind him in everything, and he can stay there as long as he needs to. If he doesn’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. I will never judge him and I will be there for him whenever he is ready to resume contact.”

Allison Holker and Stephen ‘tWitch’ Boss in September 2022.

Courtesy of Allison Holker

I started calling friends and family to say that I had found Stephen, that he was safe. I ran out into the yard to catch the cops standing near their parked police car. I said, “Hey, I think I found it, but I can’t legally confirm with me. Can you please go ask on your end?” I returned to the house, overwhelmed with relief.

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The letter on his nightstand, his panic the night before—it all made sense now. Stephen went to rehab. He was going through something and now he got help. I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I barely registered the thud, thud, thud of helicopters flying overhead and the wailing of police sirens. Something was happening near our house, but then again, we live in Los Angeles, the land of high-speed car chases. There always seems to be something going on.

About 20 minutes later, the two officers outside were joined by a third officer. He was older, very cute. He reached the door, followed by the others. The newcomer looked at me with such compassion in his eyes. He asked me to sit down, and my heart sank. They don’t ask you to sit down unless what they’re going to tell you is really, really bad.

I couldn’t bring myself to sit down. If I didn’t sit down, maybe what he was going to tell me wouldn’t be real.

Dark energy flooded the room as I stood frozen in place. “Your husband has been found,” he said. “He’s not on rehab.” He sat down at the kitchen table. I stayed where I was. “Your husband was found in the hotel. The maid found him. He shot himself.”

Not. Not. Not. Not.

Allison Holker smiles with all three of her kids in sweet new family photos: ‘I’m thankful for these angels’

I told them they found the black man, but that didn’t mean they found my man. Stephen would never do what this officer was suggesting.

The officer very gently explained that Stephen had left a letter and his ID. He was recognized by his tattoos, including the one under his elbow: I am . . . i have . . I deserve it. . .

My stomach clenched. He spent eight painful hours getting inked during the magical trip we took to New Zealand. It was like a DNA chain with tribal markings in honor of the country’s indigenous Maori people and the love of his life: me, Weslie and music. It was his version of the charm bracelet and he had always meant to add it. He often spoke of returning to New Zealand and visiting the same artist to mark Maddox and Zaia’s presence on the coast. A trip that would never happen now. His beautiful tattoo has been reduced to a creepy identification mark.

I ran down the hall, screaming. The sound that escaped my throat was wild. I’ve never heard anything like it before. I collapsed onto the floor in the fetal position, where I would remain for several minutes, trembling as one of our assistants held me tightly.

Nothing made sense. I was so scared. I felt so alone even when I was in someone else’s arms. The world turned black. The walls closed in on me until I thought I would suffocate. Until that moment, I had never understood the expression “It was as if the world had stopped”. That’s exactly what it felt like: as if time had frozen. I literally couldn’t believe that Stephen was dead.

This Far: My Story of Love, Loss, and Embracing the Light by Allison Holker is out February 4th from Harper Select and is available for pre-order now, wherever books are sold.

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