The crash happened so fast that no one else even saw it.It was just after dawn on Thursday, around 6:38 a.m., when 55-year-old Neil Perry was driving his BMW Z3 along N.C. 87 near Riegelwood in Columbus County. The morning was quiet, the road nearly empty. Then, in an instant, everything changed.
A dead animal lay in Perry’s lane, and as he instinctively jerked the wheel to avoid hitting it, the small sports car veered sharply across the center line. The sudden motion sent the vehicle off balance, flipping it over before it slammed into a tree with devastating force.
Perry was alone in the car and wearing his seatbelt, but the impact was catastrophic. When first responders arrived minutes later, they moved quickly—cutting through metal, checking vitals, working through the practiced motions of lifesaving care. But Perry’s heart had already stopped, and there was no rhythm left for them to restore.
He was pronounced dead at the scene, leaving a quiet stretch of highway holding the weight of a life suddenly gone.Beyond the crash, the loss resonates deeply within the Methodist University community. Perry was a part-time faculty member in the Communication & Media department, but calling him “part-time” barely captures what he offered.
Students describe him as one of those rare professors who made learning feel alive—someone who brought real-world experience, curiosity, and encouragement into every class. Whether teaching media ethics, production fundamentals, or storytelling techniques, he approached each subject with enthusiasm that drew students in.
Colleagues say he never treated teaching like a side job; he treated it like a mission. He mentored students who were unsure of their voice, stayed late to help with projects, and celebrated every small breakthrough like it mattered. Because to him, it did.Neil Perry’s sudden passing leaves a profound emptiness—in his classroom, on campus, and in the lives of those who knew him.
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