Steven Seagal’s Close Friends He Used to Drink Beer With Are No Longer Alive; Now the Aikido Legend Remains Alone, Alongside Two Graves

EARL SIMMONS (DMX). 1970 — 2021. RUGGED AND RAW. REST IN PEACE.
MICHAEL CLARKE DUNCAN. 1957 — 2012. THE GREEN MILE. FOREVER IN OUR HEARTS.

Two inscriptions. Two men. Two very different stories, yet they arrived at the same destination — and formed an unlikely bond with Steven Seagal, the Aikido master from Michigan who had no reason to know either of them but found something in both that he couldn’t find anywhere else.

“Exit Wounds and the Beginning of Something Real”

It all began in 2000 on the set of Exit Wounds, where Seagal and DMX’s paths crossed unexpectedly, forming a friendship that seemed improbable at first. DMX was at the height of his career — the top rapper in America, with three number-one albums in a row. Yet beneath his fame, he carried the wounds of a difficult past: a childhood in foster care, addiction, and a raw, faith-driven struggle to survive.

Seagal recognized this depth. Although their backgrounds couldn’t have been more different, he saw a kindred spirit in DMX — someone who had endured more than most and found a way to keep going, just as Seagal had through his own discipline. DMX, in return, was drawn to Seagal’s authenticity, appreciating that the Aikido master was one of the few people in Hollywood who didn’t perform for others.

Their friendship deepened beyond the set. Through the years, despite DMX’s public and private battles, Seagal remained by his side — never judging, just offering unwavering support.

“Big Mike and the Warmth That Changed Every Room”

Similarly, Seagal’s friendship with Michael Clarke Duncan, known as “Big Mike,” began in the film world, where Seagal found another authentic soul. Duncan, who had worked in construction and security for years before Hollywood noticed him, was a giant of warmth, humor, and honesty. He was unpretentious and kind, with an infectious laugh and genuine interest in everyone he met, regardless of their status.

Seagal admired Duncan’s authenticity, something that his martial arts training had taught him to value above all. Their bond, forged over shared meals and laughter, was one of true friendship. They were genuine with each other, finding comfort in the simplicity of their connection — no performances, just real people.

“One Can. Two Graves. The Arithmetic of Loss”

Now, Seagal sits between two graves, holding a beer, not drinking it but holding onto a ritual of friendship. He thought about placing a can on each grave, as a tribute, but something about it felt wrong. Instead, he sits silently between Earl (DMX) and Michael (Duncan), two men whose losses came too soon. The beer sits in his hand, untouched, as he reflects on the silence that now surrounds him.

The afternoon light shifts, but Seagal stays there, in quiet companionship with the ghosts of his friends. There are no grand gestures, just the presence of grief, and a friendship that, even in death, has left an indelible mark.

Rest well, Earl. Rest well, Mike. Seagal remains seated, because some losses are too deep to walk away from.