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Retired prison officer Preston McKenzie was remembered for his presence.

“Only one of him,” Monique Greenslade shared. “A man who told you how he felt… and what he thought.”

Echoed across social media, tributes paint the picture of a man who spoke plainly and left an impression wherever he went.

Described by those who knew him as “one of a kind”, he died in a tragic accident in Exuma after his vehicle was found overturned in waters near the shoreline.

The shock of his passing touched colleagues, friends, and the wider community of Barraterre.

Within the correctional system, his legacy runs deep. The Correctional Officers Staff Association described him as “a true gem,” highlighting his role in shaping the next generation of officers. As a Corrections Sergeant, McKenzie trained countless recruits, instilling discipline, professionalism, and a standard of excellence that colleagues say will live on long after him.

But beyond the duty, his personality resonated with many.

“Never a dull moment,” Trina Cooper remembered. “He spoke clear and precise. He didn’t fumble with his words.”

Thelescia Archer described him simply as “the best gym instructor,” a reflection of the life and motivation he brought to those around him.

Kashan Durham shared that she had just seen McKenzie the week before. “I never thought last week in Exuma would have been the last time I saw you.”

His sister, Earnest Bain, expressed gratitude for the outpouring of support. “The road ahead will be hard,” she said, “but it gives us some comfort from each of you.”

The Barraterre Development Association also extended condolences, reminding the family they are not alone in their grief.

The atmosphere at Life Worship Center on Saturday was reflective, gentle, filled with the kind of quiet that speaks of both grief and gratitude. It mirrored the life of Kareem Williams, a man remembered for who friends and family said he was becoming.

To those who knew him best, Kareem, affectionately called “Kreemy,” had athletic ability and natural talent.

“He was strong, powerful, athletic and naturally gifted,” his cousin, who described himself as more like a brother, shared. Brad Wood Jr recalled how Kareem carried himself with “heart, confidence and a presence you could not ignore.”

But beyond the strength people saw on the outside, Brad said something deeper was taking shape within him.

“He loved the Lord. I saw him take real steps to get his life together spiritually. It wasn’t just talk. It was something he was working on, something he was becoming.”

That journey was still unfolding.

Kareem’s life was cut short nearly a month ago in a tragic hit-and-run on East Bay Street. He had been helping a young woman out of a vehicle when both were struck by a passing car. The driver did not stop but was arrested later.

His best friend since the eighth grade, Darnell Thompson, remembered him as strong-minded but full of life. “He was stubborn, yes, but always smiling,” he said. “This is one of the hardest pills I’ve had to swallow.”

To his cousin Darneisha Ferguson, Kareem was “mischievous and carefree,” but also something more profound, a protector.

“He would place himself between you and harm without hesitation,” she said. “A gentleman, a helper, someone who showed up for others, whether he knew them or not.”

Described as quiet, humble, and deeply rooted in her faith, 48-year-old Tamika Cime was “a Christian, a God-fearing woman,” her family said, someone who kept to herself, but held her family close.

On Monday night in a quiet home on Wilton Street, Centerville, on what should have been an ordinary night, Tamika sat on her bed, laughing, talking, and sharing food with her mother.

In her arms was her one-year-old grandson.

Moments later, gunfire shattered their conversation.

A bullet tore through the home as a gunman chased another man nearby. When the shots rang out, Tamika’s mother, Christine Nottage, screamed for the children to get down.

Then came the silence.

“When I look at the baby in her hand, that’s when I realised she got hit,” Christine recalled to the Tribune. “The baby was full of blood… and the blood coming from under her.”

Tamika never let go.

She was the planner, organiser, the person who made sure everyone was ready whenever the family travelled. She was the one who thought ahead and cared.

At D.W. Davis Junior High School, where she worked as a tuck shop supervisor and janitress, her loss has left a deep wound.

“She was dedicated, loved, and respected,” the school shared. “Her untimely death has left us shattered.”

To those who knew her, Tamika was warm and consistent.

“She was a decent, genuine person,” said family friend Michael Hepburn. “They good people… don’t bother anyone. Always home.”

Her sister, Deja McDonald, called her “the epitome of humble.”

“I could not ask for a better big sister,” she wrote. “You were loving, caring, and devoted… inside and out.”

“This is truly a nightmare,” her sister said. “You didn’t deserve this… We will fight for you. Justice will take place.”

Fox Hill is grieving again, and the loved ones of Jenette “Netta” Thompson are struggling to come to terms with a loss that feels sudden, violent, and close to home.

The memories that remain make her death even harder to accept.

“I just saw you,” one friend wrote, still in disbelief. “When I got the news, I cried. My heart hurt. I just saw you Thursday… and Saturday evening.”

That sense of shock echoes.

Netta was remembered as “cool,” “down-to-earth,” and full of life.

She was killed Saturday, around 10:30 p.m. on Adderley Street in Fox Hill. According to reports, she had been sitting under a tree with several men when a former boyfriend called out to her. Moments later, she was shot and killed.

Now, friends are left with questions that have no easy answers.

“Why did he do that?” one asked.

For many, the grief is deeply personal.

“I will miss you at Fox Hill Day,” another friend shared. “You were the life of the party. It will not be the same.”

Tiska Mackey, in a post, said they had just been making plans.

“You told me you wanted to get away… that we could hang like old times,” she recalled, describing Netta as “a true friend” — more like a sister.

Others remember her generosity.

Just days before her death, Netta bought three drinks for a friend. A simple gesture that now carries weight.

“This can’t be real,” another friend wrote. “I just saw you yesterday… here today, gone today.”

In a home that should be filled with life and laughter, there is now a silence that his family cannot escape.

“The house feels empty, even though it is full,” his sister, Dakenya Lightbourne, said, carrying the weight of a loss that still does not feel real.

Kenric Strachan was only 24.

He was a father of two, with twins on the way this year, a future that his family says he was quietly preparing for. Though described as a private person, those closest to him say he was always happy, ready with a joke, always laughing.

He loved music. He loved cooking for his nephews. He loved to dress well and ride his motorcycle. And in his family, he was the last child, the one they watched grow up.

Now, they are planning his funeral.

Kenric was shot last week in the vicinity of his home on Mekel Close South in Bamboo Town. He had gone outside to retrieve baby items from his vehicle, when he was shot in the leg and side. He tried to run back inside.

He never made it.

For his family, the pain is not just emotional, but physical.

“This is making you not able to eat,” his sister said. “His mother is very weak.”

The shock has rippled beyond the home. Friends say they had just spoken to him days before, wishing him a happy birthday on March 25. Others remember seeing him riding his bike, unaware it would be the last time.

“We watched him grow up,” his family said.

Now they are left with questions, and his sister wants justice no matter how long it takes.

Grief is hanging heavy as friends and loved ones struggle to come to terms with the sudden and tragic loss of Kareem Williams, a man they say lived fully until his final moments.

Williams died on Thursday after days in hospital, following a hit-and-run incident on East Bay Street last Sunday. According to accounts, he was helping a young woman out of the front passenger seat of a vehicle when both were struck by a passing car. The driver did not stop but was caught later.

For those who knew him, the details are almost too painful to process just how he died.

A member of the Bahamas Flag Football League, Williams was remembered as both a fierce competitor and a steady presence off the field.

In a tribute, the league said his impact stretched far beyond the game.

“His presence on and off the field will never be forgotten,” the statement read, as teammates and coaches joined in mourning.

Online, the grief has been raw and unfiltered.

Calvin Spence called him a “brother,” remembering his competitive spirit.

Lorenzo Bullard’s message was shorter, heavier: “Rest in peace my son.”

Others expressed heartbreak mixed with anger at how the incident unfolded.

“People had to run him (suspect) down and cut him off until police came,” Rosmond Joseph wrote, echoing frustration that has rippled online.

Shenika Newry remembered Williams from childhood: “Just running around loving life,” she said, a memory that now feels impossibly distant. “He was loved. He has kids. I pray justice prevails.”

Serenity Terell knew him as “a loyal customer.”

Kareem was the father of two children.

Friends are remembering Geronimo Brice as a kind-hearted man whose life touched many, after he died in a tragic car crash on Wednesday.

To those who knew him, Brice will be remembered for his kindness, a man described simply as “a very decent person.”

Police said Brice was travelling north on Milo Butler Highway when his vehicle struck the median, sending the car airborne into the southbound lane, where it collided with a flatbed truck. He died at the scene.

In the hours after news of the crash spread, social media was filled with messages of disbelief and grief from friends still struggling to process the loss.

For some, Brice was family.

Miguel Johnson described him as one of his closest friends.

“One of my closest high school friends and brothers,” Johnson wrote. “Love you forever my brother.”

The two attended Aquinas College (Bahamas) together, graduating in 1996, and remained close over the years. Johnson said Brice was part of a small group of school friends who stayed connected long after graduation.

“One of my literal best friends in life who I always talk to in a group chat with a few of my closest brethren from school,” he said. “My mind feels lost right now knowing you are gone.”

Others remembered Brice for his easygoing nature and warmth.

“He was a really cool person,” one friend wrote.

“Geronimo will be missed. I so can’t believe this,” added Jasmin Shanez.

Family members also expressed their heartbreak. “Forever in my heart,” wrote relative Jade Thurston.

For some, the news was almost too difficult to accept.

“Not Geronimo Brice,” one person wrote in disbelief. Another simply responded, “Oh goodness, nooo.”

Brice was also remembered by former classmates from his time at The Art Institute of Fort Lauderdale, where one friend recalled long nights in dorm rooms playing video games and building friendships.

“Solid brother back then,” the post read.

Professionally, Brice worked with the Ministry of Works, where his work as an architectural professional left a lasting impression.

Shantell Braynen said he helped design the plans for her home. “He was so cool and lenient with me,” she recalled. “He tried to give me everything I wanted in my house.”

Laughter mingled with tears at Salem Union Baptist Church as family, friends, and fellow attorneys gathered to bid their final goodbyes to Romona Farquharson-Seymour, a woman remembered as both a fierce advocate and a deeply compassionate individual.

As mourners slowly passed her coffin, some paused, shaking their heads in disbelief, still struggling to accept the sudden loss of a woman whose presence once filled rooms with energy and confidence.

Farquharson-Seymour’s life was deeply rooted in the church where her funeral was held. Reared at Salem Union Baptist, she later served as attorney for the church and the Bahamas Baptist Union, using her legal training in service to her faith and community.

Senior Minister Cedric Farquharson told mourners that Farquharson-Seymour used her talents to serve both the nation and the kingdom of God, leaving a legacy of service far beyond the courtroom.

Near the front of the sanctuary, tears streamed down the face of her husband, Calvin Seymour, as friends and colleagues stood to offer tributes. Nearby, the couple’s two young daughters sat quietly, a tender reminder of the life and family she leaves behind.

Farquharson-Seymour was also an executive member of the Free National Movement, where she was known as a formidable legal mind. Party leader Michael Pintard recalled the shock that rippled through the organisation upon hearing of her unexpected death.

He described her as an attorney with “formidable skill and a sharp mind,” someone unafraid to challenge conventional thinking.

“She asked the hard questions, challenged the comfortable thinking,” Pintard said. “She spoke with clarity when others preferred caution. She didn’t sugarcoat very much. She didn’t soften the truth when circumstances required firmness.”

“She mattered to our organisation, and she mattered in the hard conversations, whether you agreed with her or not.”

For those who knew her best, however, it was Farquharson-Seymour’s warmth that defined her just as much as her intellect.

Her close friend Cathleen Hassan said she loved Romona like a sister.

Hassan recalled how the busy attorney balanced her demanding legal career with motherhood, often raising her children while working from her office.

“She was a full-time mother and a full-time lawyer,” Hassan said.

Romona’s presence, she added, had a way of transforming every room she entered.

“She brought an effervescent energy with her,” Hassan said, prompting laughter from the congregation as she fondly remembered Romona “sashaying in on her very high and sometimes inappropriate shoes.”

Yet behind the humour, Romona was deeply committed to helping others. Hassan said Farquharson-Seymour often offered legal assistance to those who could not afford it.

“She was warm-hearted and helped anyone she came into contact with,” she said. “She was ferocious, and she had a unique way of looking at issues.”

Hassan remembered a woman constantly striving to grow. “Always open to learning,” she said softly. “Always open to being better than she was.”

More than six years after the sudden and heartbreaking death of Bahamian reggae artist Davon “Mdeez” Knight stunned the nation, his widow stood in a courtroom and did something few could imagine.

She forgave.

Facing the man charged in her husband’s death, Leshann Knight looked directly at Shamano Cooper as she delivered her victim impact statement. Her voice was steady, and her words were deliberate. She told him she forgave him — and that her family extended grace.

It was about peace.

“I wanted my soul to be at peace,” she expressed, choosing release over resentment in a moment heavy with memory.

On June 21, 2019, what began as a dispute ended in tragedy. Knight, who was the landlord of a property where Cooper operated a car wash, had reportedly gone to collect outstanding rent. An altercation followed. Knight was stabbed multiple times. Despite his injuries, he attempted to drive himself to the hospital but lost consciousness behind the wheel and collided with another vehicle. He later died from those injuries.

The loss reverberated far beyond his family.

“Mdeez” was on the brink of international stardom, preparing for a 12-week, multi-country tour that would have taken him to Canada, the United States, Jamaica and several Family Islands.

His songs, including ‘Times Hard’ and ‘Ghetto Cries’, resonated with many who saw their own struggles reflected in his lyrics.

He was also a familiar face on political stages, serving as a lead entertainer at Free National Movement’s rallies during past general election seasons.

In court, Cooper apologised to Mrs Knight. After a plea agreement, his charge was reduced to manslaughter, and he now faces a 15-year sentence.

He appeared relieved when Mrs Knight told him she had already forgiven him.

For Mrs Knight, forgiveness marked the closing of a chapter and the beginning of peace.