The NBA is full of guys who just want to cash the check, buy the jewelry, and retire to a life of golf and commentary. Bison Dele wasn't that guy. Not even close. If you’re looking for the typical story of a 6'11" center who lived for the hardwood, you’re looking at the wrong player. Honestly, the man formerly known as Brian Williams was probably the only person in the history of the league who walked away from $36 million because he simply had better things to do with his time.
He was a nomad. An intellectual. A pilot. A guy who ran with the bulls in Pamplona and played the saxophone in Paris.
But when people talk about Bison Dele today, they usually skip over the 1997 championship ring he won with Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls. They skip the double-double averages. Instead, they focus on the Hakuna Matata—the 55-foot catamaran—and the terrifying silence that followed its departure from Tahiti in July 2002. It’s one of the most haunting mysteries in the history of professional sports, and the deeper you look into what happened on that boat, the more it feels like a fever dream.
The Man Who Traded the NBA for the Horizon
To understand why Bison Dele vanished, you have to understand why he played. For him, basketball was a job. It was a means to an end. He was incredibly gifted, moving with a fluid grace that most centers couldn't dream of, but his heart was always somewhere else.
He changed his name in 1998 to honor his Native American and African heritage. The "Bison" came from his ancestry; "Dele" was a tribute to his family. This wasn't a PR stunt. It was a declaration of identity. He was becoming the person he wanted to be, rather than the person the Detroit Pistons or the Orlando Magic wanted him to be.
By 1999, Dele was only 30 years old. He was the highest-paid player on the Pistons’ roster. Then, he just... quit. He didn't have a backup plan. He didn't have a broadcast contract. He just walked into the front office and left $36.45 million on the table. Think about that for a second. In an era where players fight for every cent of a mid-level exception, Dele chose freedom over a fortune that would have lasted ten lifetimes.
He started traveling. He went to Lebanon. He went to Australia. He eventually ended up in Tahiti, where he bought a boat. He named it the Hakuna Matata. It sounds like a cliché from a Disney movie, but for Dele, it was a mission statement. No worries. Just the ocean and the wind.
That Fateful July in the South Pacific
In early July 2002, Dele set sail from Moorea, near Tahiti, planning to head toward Honolulu. He wasn't alone. He had his girlfriend, Serena Karlan, with him. There was also the boat's skipper, Bertrand Saldo.
👉 See also: Meaning of Grand Slam: Why We Use It for Tennis, Baseball, and Breakfast
And then there was Kevin Williams.
Kevin was Bison’s older brother. He had changed his name, too—to Miles Dabord. The relationship between the two brothers was, to put it mildly, strained. Miles had always lived in the shadow of his younger, more successful, more athletic, and more charismatic brother. There was a history of resentment there, a simmering tension that had boiled over more than once during their childhood and adult lives.
What happened next is mostly pieced together from witness accounts at the docks and the chilling trail Miles Dabord left behind. On July 6, the boat left port. On July 8, the boat was spotted, but the communication had gone dark. When the Hakuna Matata finally pulled into a different port in Tahiti days later, only one person was seen on board.
Miles Dabord.
The name on the back of the boat had been painted over. The "Hakuna Matata" was gone. The person who docked the vessel wasn't the NBA champion or the experienced French skipper. It was the brother.
The Investigation and the Forged Signatures
For weeks, no one knew anything was wrong. Dele was known for going off the grid. His family was used to not hearing from him for stretches of time while he explored some remote corner of the globe. But things started to get weird in September.
A man identifying himself as Brian Williams—Bison’s birth name—tried to buy $152,000 worth of gold bullion in Phoenix, Arizona. He used Bison's passport and credit cards.
✨ Don't miss: NFL Week 5 2025 Point Spreads: What Most People Get Wrong
The gold dealer got suspicious. He called the cops.
Miles Dabord fled before he could be detained, crossing the border into Mexico. This was the moment the "missing persons" case turned into a homicide investigation. The FBI got involved. The French authorities in Tahiti started looking for the boat. When they finally found the Hakuna Matata, the scene was unsettlingly clean. Too clean. There were indications that patches of the deck had been scrubbed and repaired.
The theory from the FBI and investigators like those featured in the Disappeared series was grim. They believed an altercation broke out on the boat. Maybe it was about money. Maybe it was about the years of jealousy Miles had carried. Investigators believe Miles Dabord killed his brother, Serena Karlan, and Bertrand Saldo, then weighted their bodies and threw them into the deepest part of the South Pacific.
The ocean there is miles deep. If you want to hide something forever, that’s where you do it.
The Silence of Miles Dabord
We will likely never have a full confession or a definitive map of what happened on that boat because Miles Dabord took the truth to his grave. Shortly after he was identified in Mexico, he was found unconscious on a beach. He had intentionally overdosed on insulin.
He died in a California hospital in September 2002.
His mother, Patricia Phillips, was left with the unimaginable reality of losing both her sons—one to a presumed murder and the other to a presumed suicide. In interviews, she has spoken about the darkness that followed Miles, the sense that he could never quite measure up to Bison's light. It’s a Shakespearean tragedy played out on a catamaran in the middle of paradise.
🔗 Read more: Bethany Hamilton and the Shark: What Really Happened That Morning
Some people still hold out hope. They think maybe Bison Dele staged the whole thing to truly disappear. He was the kind of guy who could pull it off, right? He hated the spotlight. He loved the mystery. But the forged signatures and the gold bullion purchase point to a much more sinister reality. You don't forge your brother's name to buy gold if your brother is alive and well on a secret island.
Why the Bison Dele Story Still Resonates
Basketball fans talk about Dele because he represents the "what if." What if he stayed with the Bulls? Could they have squeezed out one more title? What if he never went to Tahiti?
But the real reason we're still captivated by him in 2026 is that he was a reminder that the "dream" we're all sold—fame, money, status—wasn't enough for him. He was looking for something authentic. He was a guy who would sit in the locker room reading philosophy while his teammates talked about cars. He was different.
His disappearance remains a cautionary tale about the complexities of family and the fact that sometimes, even when you escape the "rat race" of the NBA, you can't escape the shadows that follow you from home.
What You Can Take From This
If you're looking into the Bison Dele story for more than just true crime thrills, there are a few things to keep in mind regarding how we view athletes and "success."
- Success is subjective. Dele walking away from $36 million wasn't "crazy." It was a calculated decision to value his time over his bank account. We should respect athletes who prioritize their mental health and interests over the expectations of the fans.
- The South Pacific is vast. If you are ever researching maritime disappearances, understand that the "Point Nemo" area and the deep trenches of the Pacific make recovery almost impossible without precise coordinates. This is why no remains were ever found.
- Look into the "Life and Death of Bison Dele" by Sports Illustrated. It remains the gold standard for long-form reporting on this case. It provides context on his relationship with his father, Eugene "Gene" Williams of the Platters, which explains a lot of his artistic temperament.
- Support the foundations. While there isn't a massive "Bison Dele Foundation," his estate and family have often focused on youth and indigenous causes in the past. Supporting Native American youth sports programs is a great way to honor the spirit of what Dele cared about.
Bison Dele lived more in 33 years than most people do in 90. He wasn't just a "basketball player." He was an explorer who happened to be great at basketball. While the ending of his story is shrouded in darkness, the way he lived his life—unapologetically and on his own terms—is the part worth remembering.
Next Steps for Research:
If you want to dig deeper into the forensic side of the case, look for the official FBI summaries regarding the "Miles Dabord" investigation. You can also find archives of the Detroit Free Press from late 2002, which provide the most granular day-to-day coverage of the search for the Hakuna Matata. For a more personal look at Dele's personality, the book The Jordan Rules by Sam Smith gives a brief but insightful look into his time with the 1997 Bulls and how his mind worked compared to his teammates.