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For those who grew up with Quintin Meyers and Macaro Rolle in Andros, the devastating plane crash that claimed their lives on Friday stole two gentle souls whose character had shaped the people around them for years.

The two lifelong friends and co-workers at Ocean Cay, off Bimini, were among the ten people killed in the tragedy. Those who knew them say they were the kind of men who never sought attention but were somehow unforgettable.

Family friend Meme Pratt remembers Quintin as someone who had been part of her life since childhood.

“I’ve known Quinten from we were kids,” she said.

“He was always the eldest in our group of children throughout the community, and to know Quintin was to love some part of him.”

She recalled afternoons spent beneath a tree across from his family home, where neighborhood children would gather for hours, talking and laughing until they forgot the time.

Those simple moments have now become treasured memories.

“His laugh was infectious. His humbleness was genuine, and his heart was pure,” Pratt said.

“There was never a time when he was anything short of those qualities.”

She said Quintin carried himself with a quiet gentleness, especially toward the young women in the community.

“He was always so gentle in everything he did and said.”

Today, she says, Andros feels different without him.

“We loved him dearly, and we have truly been torn by his passing. We won’t ever be the same without him, but we’ll always love him and always miss his presence.”

Macaro Rolle left behind a different kind of impression.

Pratt said she had known him since preschool, through primary school and high school.

“He was always so quiet,” she recalled. “So quiet that you may have looked over him if you weren’t paying attention.”

But anyone who took the time to know him discovered someone entirely different.

“When he spoke and showed his vibrant, funny and down-to-earth side, you’d be stuck beside him for hours talking about any and everything.”

She said one of the greatest reflections of Macaro’s character was the love he shared with his longtime girlfriend, Donell.

“He showed her unconditional love, passionate love and healing love from the time we were in high school.”

Watching the way he loved her, Pratt said, made others admire him even more.

“It caused everyone else to love him even more.”

As Andros continues to grieve, Pratt says what hurts most is not only that two lives were lost, but the kind of lives they were.

“We lost great, humble, kind and loving people on that flight,” she said.

“They weren’t trouble to anyone ever. I think that’s the part that hurts the most.”

For Captain Franklyn “Elton” Cambridge, flying was where he felt most alive.

On Friday, he climbed into the cockpit once again, doing what he had done countless times before—guiding passengers safely through the skies.

It would become his final flight.

Captain Cambridge was piloting the Flamingo Air aircraft that crashed into the pine forest of San Andros, claiming the lives of all ten people on board.

While investigators search for answers, his sister, Colette Cambridge Lorelli, struggles to find words.

“My brother, you left this world doing what you loved best, but what a tragic way to go,” she shared in a social media post.

He died doing what he loved.

Friends describe Elton by the kindness that followed him wherever he went.

“Elton was always so nice,” Anthonia Culmer wrote. “He will surely be missed.”

To Sandra Hanna, he was simply family.

“My cousin, the Lion, is gone but not forgotten.”

Others remember the same gentle spirit.

“Elton was always cool and down to earth with me,” said friend Jaydian Miller.

Vanessa Johnson remembered knowing him since their school days.

“He was always a sweet person. This is such hurtful news.”

Perhaps no story captures who Captain Cambridge was more than one shared by a passenger who barely knew him.

Last year, Ashontae McQueen flew with him during Regatta season. Like many travellers, she admitted she was nervous about charter flights. But something about the pilot immediately put her at ease.

“As afraid as I am of charter flights, I felt safe,” she recalled.

The journey ended safely in Nassau. When Ashontae discovered her car battery had died, Captain Cambridge, without hesitation, offered to take her and her baby home.

He helped carry her bags and waited until she was safely inside.

When she tried to pay him for the fuel, he refused. “I didn’t know him from a can of paint,” she said.

“It was my first time meeting him. He didn’t have to do that. But I was so impressed by the professionalism and care he displayed.”

For Ariel Newbold, the hardest part is imagining every stage without Travis’ voice.For years, the two stood side by side as members of the Synergy Band, blending harmonies, sharing microphones and building dreams.

Now, his voice is missing.

“My singing partner,” Ariel wrote. “My close friend.”

“Losing you feels unreal…It feels like the laughter is gone out of the room. And joy is missing from the music.”

Just hours after learning that Travis had died in Friday’s catastrophic plane crash in San Andros, Ariel still stepped onto another stage. She sang but inside, everything had changed.

“Normally stepping onto a stage gives me a rush,” she said.

“But this time it felt mechanical. Like going through the motions.Because I knew I would never step onto a stage with you again.”

Only months ago, the pair had begun planning something bigger she said.

In January, they promised each other they would perform in as many hotels as possible, building a professional background-vocal business while pushing toward the forefront of the Bahamian music industry.

The dream had already begun.

“I started the hotel thing,” Ariel recalled. “You started the island thing.”

“We promised we’d fill in for each other.”

But Travis became so busy that she rarely had the chance.

Now, that promise remains unfinished.

Genesis Junkanoo Organisation remembers the passion he carried.

“Every beat reflected his passion and love for Junkanoo. His impact will not be forgotten.”

Sharmond Smith recalls one birthday that became unforgettable.

“Travis sang to me on my birthday and brought me to tears. He was a superstar among the staff. But he remained very humble.”

North Eleuthera MP Sylvanus Petty says he was privileged to know Travis during his time living on the island.

“He was a kind soul whose talent and spirit touched many lives.”

Juliette Butler still remembers hearing him sing for the first time.

“His voice was so warm,” she said. “I had to tell him how blessed he was.”

For Cheryl Turner, the news still feels impossible.

“I’m still trying to process it. He was such a bright light. His music was always a blessing.”

For Ariel, perhaps no sentence captures that loss more than the one she shared with the world.

“It feels like the laughter is gone out of the room.”

Just before stepping onto a stage, Tonique Gilot smiled with the same confidence that had become part of who she was.

At one time, someone suggested it was time for the first act to perform.

Tonique had a different idea.

“No bey,” she laughed. “I have to perform my song, Sugar Daddy.”

The moment drew laughter from everyone around her.

It has become one of the memories friends hold closest.

Tonique—known affectionately in the cultural circle as Toni Love—was among several people who lost their lives in Friday’s devastating plane crash en route to San Andros for the All Andros Regatta.

For those who knew her, the tragedy is difficult to accept because Tonique was someone who believed wholeheartedly in her gift.

Artist Mighty Pencil Turnquest remembers when she proudly sent him her latest song earlier this year: “Sugar Daddy.”

After listening, he encouraged her. “I told you that you were on your way.”

Looking back now, he says what stands out most is her unwavering belief in herself.

“You believed in your music,” he wrote. “And your passion was unmatched.”

That passion became the heartbeat of Spice Band, where Tonique served as lead vocalist.

Her voice became instantly recognizable and her energy transformed every performance.

But those closest to her say what audiences saw on stage was only a glimpse of who she truly was.

Spice Band described her as far more than their lead singer.

“She was the heart and voice that brought so much joy to so many.”

“Her light, talent and spirit will never be forgotten.”

Friend Darrington Ricardo remembers both the performer and the person.

“Talent paired with a beautiful personality,” he wrote. “Both on and off the stage.”

“I’m still in shock.”

“I’m grateful I had the chance to meet such a kind and genuine soul.”

Her cousin, Donny Anderson, could barely find the words.

“Toni… my sweet cousin.”

“I still can’t believe it.”

For many, disbelief remains the hardest part.

Erica Symonette remembers watching Tonique perform.

“She was a great treasure,” she said. “And a beautiful sight to behold on the stage.”

Melvin Henfield had no way of knowing that one simple conversation would become one of his final goodbyes.

Before Jess boarded her flight to London, she shared what seemed like another ordinary conversation with Melvin.

“Babe, call me when you land. I love you,” he told her.

She smiled and answered the way she always had.

“I love you too.”

But this time, Melvin paused.

“No, Jess…” he replied. “I really love you.”

Neither of them knew those would be the last words they would ever share.

Hours later, while Jessy was crossing the Atlantic, Melvin—known across the Bahamas as DJ Fresh International—was aboard the ill-fated flight to San Andros that ended in tragedy.

“When I landed in London,” she wrote through unimaginable grief, “you were fighting for your life.”

The couple had spent seven years together, she shared.

He was supposed to meet her for the next leg of their journey. Instead, she got the devastating news about the man she hoped to spend it with.

“We had so many plans together,” she wrote. “But God had different plans for you.”

Her heartbreak echoes: “Mel, this has completely broken me.”

“My mind and body are still numb.”

“I still can’t believe you’re gone.”

To those who knew Melvin, the man behind the turntables was known just as much for his heart as his talent.

“He was an amazing individual and a true light in this world,” said Chellcy Martin.

Jasmine Rolle remembered him as “a God-fearing young man, humble, kind-hearted and caring.”

For Rika Cargill, Melvin was far more than a friend. “He was our brother.”

She recalled how his arrival could instantly change the atmosphere of any room.

“He supported everyone with a big smile and intentional humor that caused bursts of laughter.”

Rika remembers one promise that now carries a painful beauty.

When she announced her wedding plans, Melvin jokingly claimed the front-row seat.

“You know I ordained this relationship,” he laughed. “I coming on time so nobody sit in my chair.”

Today, she says that seat will remain for him.

Artist Julien Believe remembers countless moments when Melvin chose friendship over money.

“Work was never about the dollars,” he said. “It was about the brotherhood.”

Following one difficult concert, when spirits were low and giving up felt easier than continuing, Melvin refused to let his friend quit.

“You were the one who reminded me to keep believing.”

“‘I got you, brother.'”

“‘Whatever you need.'”

“‘Say less.'”

“‘No problem.'”

Artist Mighty Pencil Turnquest still laughs while remembering the flash drive Melvin borrowed and took forever to return.

Others remember his unmatched musical creativity.

Many remember his drumming and his ability to command a crowd.

If you walked into a church service where Rashad Storr and Mateo Winder were playing, you probably noticed the music before you noticed them.

One stood with a guitar while the other sat behind a keyboard.

Together, they helped create moments of worship that many say drew people closer to God.

Now, the two friends who spent countless Sundays serving side by side are being remembered together after losing their lives in Friday’s devastating plane crash en route to San Andros for the All Andros Regatta.

For some, it is difficult to think of one without the other.

Rashad faithfully served as a guitarist at New Life Restoration Church and Chapel on the Hill.

Mateo was the music director at New Life Restoration Church, a keyboardist at Chapel on the Hill, and later became the keyboard player for the internationally known Bahamen.

Their ministries crossed churches and stages.

“They faithfully served through the music ministry of Chapel on the Hill,” the church said. “Their worship, dedication and love for God left an imprint that will not be forgotten.”

For Rashad, music was something deeply rooted within him.

Kingdom Evangelistic Apostolic Church said his “love and passion for music ran deep in his DNA.”

He was, they said, “a great asset to the body of Christ.”

Outside of church, Rashad carried that same warmth into everyday life.

Coworker Carlos Mestanza said what he will remember most is not just his work ethic, but the man behind the smile.

“We are left with his eternal smile and the wonderful moments we shared, both inside and outside of work.”

“Fly high, my friend. You leave a massive void behind, but your memory will stay with us forever.”

But perhaps no words cut deeper than those shared by Rashad’s girlfriend, Phoenix.

Hours after the crash, she revealed the thought she could not escape. “I wish I would’ve kissed you longer this morning.”

Friends describe Mateo as one of the kindest people they have ever met.

“He was one of the nicest people you could ever meet,” Gregory Taylor said. “Andros man is the best!” he would often laugh.

Music carried Mateo far beyond the church walls.

Only a week before the tragedy, he stood on stage with Bahamen in Milwaukee, performing before international audiences.

He was living the dream he had worked for since childhood.

Long before the concerts and bright lights, there was simply a teenager fascinated by a keyboard.

Brudda Brad remembers those early days vividly.

“Before the bright lights and big stages, it was the backroom by you,” he wrote.

“I remember we used to be making noise until three in the morning.”

He watched Mateo grow from playing Mr. Rolle’s keyboard during lunch breaks in high school to performing on some of the biggest stages in The Bahamas and abroad.

“What hurts the most is that you were literally living your dreams, lil bro,” he said.

“So much passion, so much life, so much energy, so much laughter, cu short.”

Rashad and Mateo left together.

When Giovanni McKenzie boarded the small plane bound for San Andros, Bahamas, on Friday morning, he wasn’t planning to stay long.

He had one more commitment waiting for him in Nassau.

Before takeoff, the 35-year-old keyboardist told the pilot he needed to be back in time to play at Revolution Church, where he had faithfully served behind the keyboards.

It would be one of the last conversations he ever had.

Minutes later, the aircraft crashed in the pine forest of San Andros while heading to the All Andros Regatta, claiming the lives of everyone on board.

The church service on Sunday, Giovanni was determined not to miss, would go on without him.

For Pastor Rickeno Moncur, the news was almost impossible to process. “It tore my heart to pieces,” he said, addressing his congregation, his voice breaking as he remembered the young man he watched grow from a gifted teenager into a respected musician.

Giovanni was only 16 when he first sat behind the keyboard at what was then Word of Life Ministries. Week after week, they said he remained there, allowing his gift to mature alongside his faith.

“Through faithful service, God developed both his gift and his anointing until he became a worshipper who knew how to usher God’s people into His presence,” Moncur said.

“Gio was family.”

Long before Revolution Church had a full worship band, Giovanni was there.

“There were many Sundays when there were only two musicians,” Moncur recalled.

“But when he sat behind those keyboards, it sounded like heaven had sent an orchestra.”

To many, Giovanni was simply an extraordinary musician. He never played to impress people but to honour God.

“There were services where God had already moved so powerfully through worship that there was hardly anything left for me to preach,” Moncur said.

“His gift created an atmosphere where hearts were healed, lives were changed, and the presence of God became undeniable.”

Outside the church walls, Giovanni became one of the founding members of The Pond Band, performing at cultural events throughout the Bahamas and helping shape the sound of modern Bahamian music.

Yet despite the stages, the applause and the recognition, friends say he never lost his humility.

One fellow musician remembered countless nights playing beside him. “We cried on those keyboards together in worship,” he wrote. “We trusted one another.”

He said Giovanni constantly reminded younger musicians to value themselves. “He always encouraged me to know my worth, but have a heart in it. Don’t cheat yourself.”

Anthony Munnings described him as the man who first introduced him to music.

“My brother, my friend, my teacher… I can’t believe you gone out like that.”

A former classmate remembered the quiet young man they knew as “Slanks.”

Church members remembered the faithful keyboardist who sat in the same place every Sunday.

Artists remembered sharing stages with him.

Congregations remembered how the music felt different whenever Giovanni played.

“It was a new sound in the house,” one worshipper recalled.

“It will be long remembered.”

Just weeks before his death, Giovanni sent Pastor Moncur a Father’s Day message.

It would become one of his final texts.

“Happy Father’s Day,” he wrote. “I just wanted to say I love you and appreciate you. I always looked up to you as a role model and father figure—someone I admire and aspire to be like one day.”

Today, those words carry a weight no one could have imagined.

For his elder sister, Shadaria Nottage, Giovanni was much more than a brother.

“He was my first best friend,” she wrote. “A piece of my heart that I never imagined living without.”

“They say time heals all wounds,” she continued. “But every second stretches into a lifetime.

“Every minute reminds us that you’re gone. Every hour asks us to face a world that keeps turning without you, even though ours has stopped.”

The keyboards Giovanni once played now sit silent.

There were tears, laughter and memories that only family could tell.

Inside the packed sanctuary of Kingdom Worship Center, loved ones gathered to mourn Stafford Ferguson but also to remember the man whose life touched so many before it was cut short.

As mourners stood to sing “Sing the Wondrous Love of Jesus,” the mood of celebration overcame grief in the room.

In an emotional moment, Jahreal Glinton, who described Stafford as a brother, stood to sing “How Do I Say Goodbye.” He shared that Stafford had been more than a friend, but a Superman to his nieces.

His brothers, Jamal and Kambrel Ferguson, painted the picture of a man who could light up a room with laughter.

“He had a heart of gold,” Jamal said. “He was mischievous. He was hardworking and always busy.”

Growing up, their mother raised four boys, but everyone knew Stafford was the one most likely to get into mischief.

“He was always getting into something that never made sense,” Jamal recalled with a smile. “But it never fazed him.”

Because of his height, many assumed he was older than he really was. To many, he naturally became someone others looked up to.

Those closest to him said humour was simply part of who he was. “To him, everything was a joke,” Jamal said. “He never meant to hurt your feelings. If you took it hard, you took it hard.”

But Stafford was a man deeply committed to his work and the people who depended on him.

Known for his skills as a mechanic, Stafford took pride in satisfying every customer who trusted him.

“My brother was beyond loved,” Jamal said. “And he will be missed.”

But perhaps the role Stafford treasured most was being a father. He leaves behind four children.

His family said he patiently taught them the ins and outs of mechanics, passing on lessons they hope will stay with them forever.

For Kambrel, Stafford was an older brother and the one who helped him buy his first car.

He could always call on him, even teaching him how to tie a necktie.

They shared unforgettable memories, including attending the Best of the Best concert together.

“I was always trying to get him to come to church,” Kambrel said.

“He’ll always have my heart.”

As the family reflected on the memories they shared, Jamal, fighting back tears, revealed the one regret that now weighs heavily on him.

“What bothered me most is I never told him I loved him as much,” he said. Seeing his brother laid out after his death changed everything. “When I saw him on the table, I said, ‘Stafford, I love you.'”

Those words echoed a painful reminder of how quickly life can change and how often love is unspoken.

Police said Ferguson was found suffering from multiple gunshot wounds beside his vehicle outside a business establishment in Hunters last month. Investigators said he was walking toward his vehicle when he was approached by a lone gunman who opened fire before fleeing the scene. Ferguson later died in hospital from his injuries.

Keno Gordon came to New Providence with a plan. Like many young Bahamians leaving the Family Islands, he was looking for opportunity.

His family said he worked, saved, and dreamed.

College was next and basketball was the dream.

But six days after a devastating crash on Shirley Street that had already claimed four young lives, Keno lost his own battle on Saturday morning.

He was only 19.

“He wanted to go off to school to pursue a basketball career,” his aunt, Ronique Clarke, recalled to the Nassau Guardian.

To make that happen, Keno had already begun building his future. After graduating from Old Bight High School in Cat Island in 2024, he moved to New Providence for work, determined to earn enough money to continue his education.

He worked at the Royal Beach Club and had recently secured another job at CocoCay.

“He said he was saving to go off to school,” Clarke said. “That was one of his dreams.”

Those who knew Keno described him as kind, gentle and hard-working.

“He was so quiet, but he was just loved by all,” Clarke said. “He was just a good boy. He was loving and hard working.”

Back home in Cat Island, Old Bight High School was struggling to comprehend yet another heartbreaking loss.

“This summer has really started off with news we never dreamed of sharing,” the school wrote.

“Keno Gordon has also now lost his fight and is resting in eternal peace.”

Principal Bennique Brown-Pratt, who had watched Keno grow from student to graduate just a year earlier, found herself writing words no educator ever wants to write.

“How am I saying ‘Rest in Peace’ again to another one of my students that just passed this morning from that fatal crash on Sunday?” she wrote.

“Teach your children that life is uncertain. Only God is sure.”

For those who celebrated Junkanoo alongside him, Keno was known simply as “KJay.”

As a member of Roots Junkanoo, he was part of a family bound together by music, culture and community.

“It is with heavy hearts that we mourn the passing of our beloved brother,” the group said. “KJay was more than a member of Roots—he was family.”

His fellow Junkanoo members remembered the passion he brought to every practice, parade and moment they shared together.

“His spirit will continue to live on in every beat of the drum and every step we take together.”

“Thank you for the memories, the laughter and the legacy you leave behind.”

Keno’s death raises the number of lives lost from the June 28 Shirley Street crash to five.

Just weeks ago, Sukeerth Babu sat at his favorite spot, guitar in hand, surrounded by friends and family with music and laughter.

There were moments no one imagined would become some of the last memories shared with him.

His guitar has now fallen silent.

Sakeerth, who was known for his kindness, his love for music and his welcoming spirit died after being struck in a hit-and-run while out for an evening jog in Grand Bahama.

Police said Sukeerth was jogging along Royal Palm Way shortly before 9 p.m. Tuesday when he was hit by a black SUV traveling in the wrong direction. The driver fled the scene, leaving him critically injured on the roadway. He was rushed to Rand Memorial Hospital, where he later succumbed to his injuries. Police have since arrested a suspect in connection with the incident.

Those who knew him, however, remember how he lived.

At Cool Breeze Lounge, where Sukeerth was a familiar face, he was remembered as someone who found joy in music and the people around him. He often spent time there playing the guitar, filling the space with melodies and creating moments that friends now hold close to their hearts.

“Just weeks ago, Sukeerth was at Cool Breeze with friends and family, enjoying the music and creating memories,” the lounge shared.

“Looking at this photo and video now, it is hard to believe that such a bright young life has been taken so suddenly.”

The post captured the shock many are still struggling to process.

“A young man with so much ahead of him is now gone, and our hearts are heavy.”

His love for music was only one part of who he was. He was a familiar face in the Freeport community—a young man who enjoyed simple things, meaningful friendships and staying active.

Vonny Medic remembered him as “a young, kind and humble man.”

He recalled seeing him regularly as an enthusiastic member of their neighborhood tennis group.

“This is so heartbreaking,” he wrote.

“What a senseless death of such a young, kind and humble man.”