Patrick Mahomes Meets the Brother He Never Knew—What Happens Next Will Break You
Patrick Mahomes never expected his late father to leave behind more than old regrets. But on a rainy Wednesday, a thick envelope from a Kansas City law office landed on his kitchen counter, stamped with his father’s unmistakable signature. Mahomes, fresh off another grueling season, almost tossed it aside. But the scrawled handwriting on the label—shaky, urgent—caught his eye.
Inside, Mahomes found a faded photograph. A boy, maybe six, sat on a playground swing, hair wild, eyes haunted. On the back, in his father’s hand: “Jason, my son. I never told Patrick. Please help him if you can.” Beneath the photo was a letter, dated months before his father passed. It was not an apology, just a confession: “You were always my firstborn, but not my only child. Jason came later. Different mother. I wasn’t there for him, either. He grew up in the system. I know he struggled. I failed you both.”
Mahomes sat at his kitchen table long after reading, the letter trembling in his hands. He’d always known his father was a complicated man, but the idea of a brother—one who’d grown up invisible, alone—was a weight he couldn’t shake. He wondered: If he had been the one left behind, would anyone have come looking?
He called his agent, Maria. “I need help finding someone,” he said quietly. “His name is Jason.” Maria didn’t ask questions. Within days, a private investigator had a lead: Jason Morrison, 34, last seen at a halfway house in Wichita, Kansas. No phone, no address, just a man drifting between shelters, fighting to stay clean.
Mahomes stared at the mugshot Maria slid across the table. Hollow cheeks, tired eyes, but something familiar in the jawline. “He’s had a rough go,” Maria said softly. “But he’s still here.”
That night, Mahomes couldn’t sleep. He kept thinking of the boy in the photo, the man in the mugshot. He remembered his own childhood—his father’s absences, his mother’s strength, the way football had given him a sense of belonging. Jason had none of that. Mahomes decided: he had to try.
He drove to Wichita alone, wearing a hoodie and cap, hoping to blend in. The halfway house was a squat brick building surrounded by chain-link fence. Inside, the air smelled of coffee and disinfectant. Mahomes sat in the common room, waiting. He watched as men came and went, some hunched in on themselves, others laughing in small groups. Then he saw him—Jason—shoulders slumped, eyes wary, moving like someone used to being overlooked.
Mahomes approached, heart pounding. “Hey,” he said, offering a coffee. Jason eyed him, suspicion etched into every line of his face. “You lost?” he asked, voice rough.
“No,” Mahomes said. “Just…wanted to talk.”
Jason shrugged, accepting the coffee. They sat in silence, the TV buzzing in the background. Finally, Jason spoke. “You from some church group? Social worker?”
“No. I’m…just someone who heard about you. Someone who cares.”
Jason snorted. “Nobody cares. Not really.”
Mahomes hesitated. “I do. I know what it’s like to feel alone. To wonder if anyone sees you.”
Jason stared at him, searching for the catch. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“No,” Mahomes admitted. “But I’d like to.”
For days, Mahomes returned, sometimes just sitting in the common room, sometimes offering coffee or a hot meal. He didn’t push, didn’t pry. He just showed up. Slowly, Jason’s walls began to crack. He told Mahomes about foster care, about nights spent on the streets, about the years lost to addiction. “I’m not worth your time,” Jason said once, eyes shining with shame.
Mahomes shook his head. “You matter. More than you know.”
One afternoon, Mahomes handed Jason an envelope. Inside was a letter from their father and a DNA test confirming what they already knew. Jason read the letter in silence, hands trembling. “Why are you doing this?” he whispered, tears slipping down his cheeks.
Mahomes answered simply, “Because you’re my brother. And I don’t want you to go through this alone.”
The days turned into weeks. Mahomes helped Jason find a spot at a long-term treatment center outside Kansas City—one he’d quietly funded years before. Jason was hesitant. “What if I mess up again?”
“Then I’ll still be here,” Mahomes said. “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to keep trying.”
Recovery was not linear. Jason relapsed once, then twice. Each time, Mahomes showed up—not with lectures, but with presence. They walked quiet trails together, sat on park benches, sometimes talking, sometimes just breathing the same air. Mahomes shared his own struggles—the pressure, the loneliness, the pain of losing loved ones. “You’re not broken,” he told Jason. “You’re just human. And you’re not alone anymore.”
Slowly, Jason began to heal. He found work at a local community center, helping kids with after-school sports. He started writing again, filling journals with thoughts and memories. He took Mahomes to his first sobriety anniversary, standing in front of a room full of strangers and saying, “For the first time in my life, I feel like I belong.”
Mahomes sat in the front row, tears in his eyes. Later, as they walked out into the crisp evening, Jason stopped him. “Why me?” he asked. “You could have walked away.”
Mahomes smiled, pulling him into a hug. “Because you’re my family. And family means showing up—even when it’s hard.”
A year later, Jason stood beside Mahomes at a charity gala, telling his story to a crowd of donors and athletes. He spoke about second chances, about the power of being seen, about the brother who refused to give up on him. The audience rose to their feet, applause thundering through the hall.
Afterward, Jason handed Mahomes a letter. “Thank you,” it read. “You didn’t just give me a home. You gave me back my name. You gave me hope.”
Mahomes tucked the letter into his jacket, heart full. He knew the road ahead would not always be easy. But as he looked at his brother—standing tall, eyes bright—he knew they would walk it together.
Sometimes, Mahomes thought, family isn’t just who you’re born to. It’s who shows up when no one else does. And that, more than any championship, was the greatest victory of all.
NFL Star Patrick Mahomes’ Family Includes His Brother, Wife and Parents: Meet Them
Patrick Mahomes has a tight-knit family, which includes his brother, Jackson Mahomes, his wife, Brittany Mahomes (née Matthews) and his parents. As the Chiefs have had successful season after successful season, fans and spectators are curious about the people closest to the quarterback.
Who are Patrick Mahomes’ Mom and Dad?
The Kansas City Chiefs player got his athleticism from his father, Patrick Mahomes Sr., who was a Major League Baseball pitcher. His dad was drafted by the Minnesota Twins in 1988 and went pro right out of high school. He retired from the sport in 2009.
Patrick Sr. admitted to steering his son toward baseball, but the MVP “fell in love with football.”
Who Is Patrick Mahomes Dad Patrick Mahomes Sr Baseball Player
“Thousands of people in the stands, being the man who could dictate and change the game. He’s a student of whatever game he’s playing. He had played baseball for so long he knew every situation. He thought it was way through it. There was so much for him to learn in football and that’s what he loved,” the proud dad said.
Though Patrick Sr. has been a consistent supporter of his son’s, he’s poked fun at MVP’s teammate, Travis Kelce, and the tight end’s own family. When asked if he wanted to join Travis’ girlfriend, Taylor Swift, and his brother, Jason Kelce, in their VIP box during a Chiefs game in the 2024 postseason, Patrick Sr. retorted, “I hope not!” but has come back with kind comments.
When asked about meeting and spending time with Taylor, Patrick Sr. reflected, “She’s down to earth. I actually walked up and introduced myself to her and she said that she knew who I was because she had watched [Netflix’s] Quarterback series. She was genuine. Every time I’ve hung out with her, she just acts like a normal person.”
Patrick’s mom, Randi, supported the family as a strong working mama and always made sure to put an emphasis on school for her kids. She and Patrick Sr. divorced when their eldest son was 6 years old but appear to have an amicable relationship. These days, Randi represents her son in a slew of Kansas City area charities among other things.
Does Patrick Mahomes Have Siblings?
The NFL star has one brother named Jackson Mahomes, who is three years younger than him. Although he doesn’t play sports, he has found his own path as a TikTok star.
Patrick Mahomes Brother Jackson With Brittany Matthews
“I’ll never forget the first time that I was at a football game or at a store when people came up to me noticing me as Jackson from TikTok and not just Patrick Mahomes’ brother,” Jackson said during a vlog in September. “My whole life I’ve been compared to my dad who was a Major League baseball player, my brother’s in the NFL, my godfather’s a Major League baseball player — and then there’s me.”
In May 2023, In Touch confirmed that Patrick’s younger brother was arrested and charged with three counts of aggravated sexual battery and a fourth count of battery. He was taken into custody at the Johnson County Detention Center in New Century, Kansas, on a $100,000 bond.
Who Is Patrick Mahomes’ Wife?
Patrick and his wife, Brittany, started dating in high school and got engaged in September 2020. They welcomed their first child, daughter Sterling Skye, in February 2021, and their son, Patrick “Bronze” Lavon Mahomes III, in November 2022.
Brittany is stellar within her own right, supporting her husband’s career, working as a mom of two and overseeing her own at-home workout program called Brittany Lynne Fitness. Previously, she explained during an Instagram video she’s always had her “own drive” and hates “being bored.”
Patrick Mahomes and Brittany Matthews’ Relationship Timeline: How They Met
“Patrick works his ass off and is at the facility from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. every day,” explained the former soccer player. “There’s no excuse for me to be sitting on my butt at home doing nothing or not making a difference in this world or not being successful. I feel like we’re a team.”
