In Memory of Darren Levine

Many people knew Darren through his leadership in Krav Maga. Over the course of his life, he played a central role in shaping how the system was taught, organized, and carried forward, particularly through the instructors he developed and the expectations he set. He believed that how something is passed on matters, and he took that responsibility seriously.

Separate from his work in Krav Maga, Darren spent decades as a Deputy District Attorney in Los Angeles. His professional life placed him in direct contact with violent crime and the legal realities surrounding it. That experience informed how he approached self-defense and use of force. He believed Krav Maga should be taught with an understanding of consequence and responsibility, not as an abstraction or performance. Those convictions influenced the standards he upheld throughout his career.

In October of last year, during The Darren Levine Experience, Darren was formally recognized as Grandmaster of Krav Maga Worldwide. The recognition reflected the scope of his service and the influence he had on generations of instructors and leaders.

That is how many knew him.

My relationship with Darren followed a different path.

I did not find Darren early on. I came to him as a young man who had been robbed at gunpoint—after an experience that exposed the gap between my training and the reality of violence. Darren noticed the seriousness in me that followed that moment. What began as mentorship grew into friendship, and over time, into something akin to brotherhood.

As Darren’s life became more difficult to navigate—the loss of his wife Marni, the strain of broken trust within the Krav Maga world, and eventually his illness—our relationship also deepened over those many years. What set it apart was an uncommon level of trust. We gave each other permission to speak the truth about one another without fear of rejection, retaliation, or withdrawal. We could say plainly how the other was coming across, where we were missing something, where we were failing ourselves or others, and what we could not see on our own.

Those conversations were not always comfortable. We disagreed at times and held strong opposing views. But there was an unspoken boundary neither of us crossed—a shared understanding that no disagreement was worth damaging the relationship itself. There were no cheap shots, no words meant to wound, no attempts to win at the expense of trust. The bond mattered more than being right.

Over time, I came to understand how rare that kind of relationship is. Darren was surrounded by people who wanted something from him—access, validation, opportunity, advancement. I made a decision early on to want nothing. I chose simply to be present, honest, and loyal as a friend. That choice created a space where truth could exist and where respect did not have to be navigated through parsing words.

Darren was a very proud father. He was an exceptional Krav Maga teacher. He was a successful prosecutor. Those things mattered, and they mattered to many. But more than any role or accomplishment, what anchored me was this: he was my friend.

Today, more than the loss of a respected teacher, a prosecutor, or a leader within Krav Maga, I am missing that friend. Knowing he was still out there—even with distance—was grounding. That quiet reassurance mattered more than I realized at the time. Now that it is gone, the absence is unmistakable.

I pray for his family and for his soul. And I grieve the loss of the man who became my brother.

Darren’s influence will continue in the seriousness with which people teach, in the calm shown under pressure, and in the standards that remain long after new fads eventually fade. But for those of us who knew him personally, his legacy is also carried in something less visible—in the way we encourage others, in the discipline to seek excellence, and in the courage to fight the good fight.

He mattered—deeply.
And he is missed.