As a boy, Danny Anderl asked people at his parish school to pray for his mom because she wasn’t a Catholic and he was worried she wouldn’t make it to heaven. She was later baptized.

As a college freshman in 2018, Danny urged a fellow student to go to confession for the first time in years. He did.

And five years ago, when a gunman came to the door of his family home, Danny, age 20, raised his arms out in a protective gesture — trying, his parents say, to shield his father from the bullets that were shortly to come. Danny took the first shot in the chest at close range and later died.

Now, the Diocese of Metuchen, New Jersey, has established a commission to investigate whether Daniel Anderl could someday be declared a saint.

It’s possible because of a new category for canonization Pope Francis established in July 2017 called “the heroic offering of life, inspired and sustained by charity,” which is based on Jesus’ words in John 15:13: “Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”

The apostolic letter Maiorem Hac Dilectionem states that in addition to the usual requirements of one miracle for beatification and another miracle for canonization, such a cause requires evidence of virtue, a reputation for holiness after death, and a connection between “the offer of life and premature death.”

Father Robert Lynam, pastor of St. Augustine of Canterbury in Kendall Park for the last 30 years, has kept Danny’s memory front and center at the parish and is advocating for his cause.

It’s based both on Danny’s life — “His qualities were very positive, very uplifting. He was a person of joy. He had a good time in life, but he loved his faith,” Father Lynam told the Register — and on the way he died.

“He really took the bullet for his mother and father. He really offered his life,” Father Lynam said.

‘Lovable Kid’

Daniel Anderl was born in July 2000 in central New Jersey. His father, Mark Anderl, is a criminal defense lawyer. His mother, Esther Salas, was a federal public defender before becoming a federal judge. Danny, an only child, was considered a miracle baby — his mother says she sustained four miscarriages before he was born and one afterward.

Danny grew up in North Brunswick and went to church and school at St. Augustine of Canterbury in Kendall Park before attending St. Joseph High School in Metuchen. At the time of his death, he was a rising junior at The Catholic University of America in Washington, D.C.

Edward Modzelewski, now the principal of St. Augustine of Canterbury School, taught history to Danny for three and a half years, starting in fourth grade.

He remembers Danny as a capable but not driven student, who exuded charisma, was quick on his feet, and was well-spoken for his age — “it was like talking to an adult,” Modzelewski said.

Modzelewski didn’t think of Danny as a saint at the time, but thought he “was walking in the right direction.”

“Whatever he was going to do, I think he would have brought light to some dark places in the world,” Modzelewski said.

David Oakley, Danny’s godfather and Mark’s law partner at the time, said Danny had an attractive personality.

“There was no effort involved in having a very deep affection for him. He was a lovable kid,” Oakley told the Register.

In high school, Danny pitched for the varsity baseball team. But in college he turned his attention to pre-law studies, preparing to become a lawyer like his parents, whom he openly treasured.

Turning Point for New Friend

Around mid-fall of his freshman year at Catholic University, Danny attended a campus-ministry retreat off campus. He was put in the same cabin as Frank Lumaj, a 6-foot-9-inch freshman from Fairfield, Connecticut, who played on the college’s varsity basketball team. The first day, it was cold and raining, and Lumaj slipped in the mud. Danny gave him a blanket.

The next day, the retreat organizers offered confession during Eucharistic adoration. Frank didn’t want to go. Danny pressed him.

“He is the driving factor that got me back to confession for the first time in years,” said Lumaj, now 26, who lives in Manhattan and runs a real estate development company that builds apartment buildings in the Bronx.

“I went at 13 years old, just for my confirmation. And then I did not go for years. And we’re sitting in adoration, talking about confession, and he was the one really pushing me to go back to it, to give it a shot, to really be open to it,” Lumaj said.

Lumaj sees it as a turning point in his life, when he started taking the practice of his faith more seriously.

“And now I go very consistently. I still think about that one moment, at adoration with Danny, him pushing me to do it,” Lumaj said.

That moment cemented a friendship. They hung out on campus, often playing pickup basketball.

Danny was a lefty and had a smooth and accurate three-point shot from the left wing, around the free throw line extended.

“He was probably one of the most competitive people I have ever met. He would get in a zone,” Lumaj said.

Off the court, Danny was remembered as being fun, moving easily between different social groups. 

‘Jesus Loves You’

The summer after his sophomore year, Danny planned a weekend celebration at his home. About nine of his friends from college attended. Several stayed over that Friday and Saturday night, Lumaj included.

His mother later described it as “a glorious weekend.” They grilled steak and played cornhole, among other things, and stayed up late.

On Saturday, Danny drove three of his college friends about 45 minutes to the Jersey Shore, where they hung out on the beach for a couple of hours. As they were leaving, they crossed the boardwalk on their way back to the car. They heard a man’s voice saying, “Jesus loves you.”

The boardwalk was crowded, and Lumaj said he never saw the person who said it.

He told the Register he didn’t think much about it at the time. But now he thinks about it often.

“My personal belief was that it was an angel, just like giving us comfort before we knew we needed it,” Lumaj said.

That weekend, Danny told Lumaj that his mother had gotten death threats because of her position as a federal judge and that he was worried about it, Lumaj told the Register.

Several hours later, Danny was helping his mother clean up after the weekend party when the doorbell rang. Danny raced to answer the door, beating his father.

“Within seconds, I heard the sound of bullets, and someone screaming, ‘No!’” Salas said in a video released in August 2020, a couple of weeks after the shooting.

“I later learned that this monster, who had a FedEx package in his hand, opened fire,” Salas said in the video. “But Daniel being Daniel protected his father. And he took the shooter’s first bullet directly to the chest.”

The man then shot Mark Anderl three times, in the chest, abdomen and right forearm, before fleeing. Mark was seriously wounded; Danny lay dying.

The shooter, later identified by authorities as Roy Den Hollander, 72, was a terminally ill lawyer and men’s rights activist unhappy with rulings Judge Salas made in a federal lawsuit he had previously filed, according to an online autobiography he self-published.

Eight days earlier, Hollander had shot and killed another men’s rights lawyer whom he resented, also while posing as a delivery driver.

The day after Danny’s death, Hollander shot and killed himself in Rockland, New York. Authorities found a list of more intended victims in a rental car nearby.

Aftermath

Danny’s parents delayed his funeral until September, so his father would be well enough to go.

About 1,000 people attended, each of them personally invited, amid intense security provided by U.S. Marshals worried about a repeat attack. Salas later successfully campaigned for legislation designed to protect sensitive information pertaining to federal judges, including their home addresses.

The story of Danny’s sacrifice spread and has persisted throughout the Catholic Church’s mandatory five-year waiting period, which is required before formal consideration for canonization can ordinarily begin.

Bobby Beaton didn’t know Danny, but he has developed a devotion to him.

The 55-year-old facility manager at St. Augustine of Canterbury attributes his survival in a near-head-on collision with a car that crossed the center of the road in August 2023 to Danny’s intercession. The crash could easily have been fatal and would likely have been had the two vehicles hit head-on.

Beaton’s Ford F-150 was so banged up after the crash that he had to exit the truck on the passenger side.

“And as I went to get my bearings, and after trying to open my door to get out of this vehicle, the only thing on the seat next to me was Daniel's prayer card,” Beaton told the Register. “I don’t know where it came from.”

The reaction of Danny’s parents to his murder has also gotten attention. Both have said publicly that they forgive the shooter.

Beaton said their decision has helped his own spiritual life.

“I’ve truly come to admire both Mark and Esther for handling the tragedy that they were dealt,” Beaton said. “I don’t know if I could do it if I were in their shoes. Please — if someone hurt my child, let alone murdered them, I don’t know that I would have the grace to forgive them like they did. But it makes me inspired.”

Oakley, Danny’s godfather and a family friend, said Mark and Esther’s forgiveness offers a clue as to Danny’s current whereabouts.

“I am inclined to believe that an indication that Danny was welcomed into heaven is the evidence of his intercession. His parents received — and to their eternal credit, corresponded to — an abundance of grace,” Oakley, now legal counsel for Opus Dei in New York City, told the Register by email. “I mean the grace to accept what is probably the worst thing that could befall parents, to forgive the murderer of their only child, and to transform this unspeakable tragedy into an occasion of good, an unmistakable participation in God’s providence.”

How to Know God

Danny’s mother defines her life as “pre-murder/post-murder,” she told teachers at her son’s parish school in August 2024. (A video of the talk is posted on the parish website.)

His death began what she called “a spiritual awakening that has transformed my life.”

When doctors told her at the hospital that Danny didn’t make it, she collapsed and had to be admitted to the hospital.

“I lost the will to live at that moment,” Salas said. “… It was like the light inside of me went dark.”

“However, thanks be to God, on the Wednesday after the shooting, as I lay in the hospital bed, something beautiful happened. I felt the gentle nudge from above,” she told the teachers.

“It was at that very moment that I began my coursework in my spiritual curriculum. Never, never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined the grueling work that is involved — and required — for this coursework. Forgiveness, non-judgment, compassion, love and gratitude. They are mandatory studies at earth school,” she said.

She began a reckoning of her own life, including its shortcomings.

“Forgiving my son’s killer was just the start of a long and arduous process that, as it turns out, is necessary for anyone to find true peace in this world,” she said.

It’s not easy, of course.

“However, I truly believe that in order to get closer to God, we must learn to forgive. Through the act of forgiveness, we slowly begin to remove those barriers that keep us walled off from God,” Salas said. “Through forgiveness, we open our minds to beautiful concepts like love and gratitude.”

“I used to say I believe in God,” she said. “Now I say I know him.”