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The last time Stephen Duncombe’s mother held her son, he was lying in a coffin.

At Bahamas Faith Ministries, she leaned over him and hugged him for what would be the final time, her grief breaking through as she wailed and mourned the son she had to say goodbye to.

She and Stephen’s sister were eventually helped back to their seats, tears streaming down their faces.

Holding her daughter’s hand, Stephen’s mother tried to find strength in her faith.

“I thank you, Lord,” she said.

Then, almost as if comforting herself, she added: “He gone be alright.”

For a family and police force mourning a beloved son, brother, colleague and friend, Stephen’s final farewell was a moment filled with pain, but also memories of the life he lived.

Stephen was attached to the Traffic Division of the Royal Bahamas Police Force and died in hospital after being struck by a vehicle while on duty last month.

For Prophetess Anna Marie Glinton-Rolle, Stephen is forever the officer she tried to comfort in his final moments at the scene.

She came to his aid after he was struck, patting his face and fanning him as he lay on the ground.

“He was in good spirits,” she recalled.

Stephen had asked her to make sure his firearm was safe and make sure no one was taking photographs or videos of him.

He asked her to stay beside him.

When other officers suggested she go across the street to get a towel and water, Stephen had asked her to remain with him. Others went to retrieve what was needed.

Then the ambulance arrived.

Before Stephen was taken to hospital, Prophetess Anna Marie prayed with him.

“Amen, amen, amen,” he responded.

She never imagined that would be the last time she would see him.

“He did not show any signs of death. I don’t know what happened,” she said through the grief.

She said the area along Prince Charles Drive is prone to accidents and that she often comes to the aid of people involved in crashes.

But this time, the person she tried to help was someone whose life would soon be mourned by an entire police force.

Among those mourning was Danny Wright, a fellow officer from the RBPF’s 2017 class.

Wright described Stephen as a brother and a supervisor.

“He was a well-rounded officer, the best supervisor,” Smith said.

Their relationship extended beyond the police force. They played backgammon together.

Smith never imagined that the day Stephen was struck would be their last.

His message to those gathered was simple: “Live life full of joy, full of happiness.”

Tony Swabby, a childhood and school friend, remembered another side of Stephen — the jokester, the enthusiastic personality who loved to put on a show.

He took pride in his work and carried an infectious smile and attitude.

“We loved him and he loved us back,” his friend said.

Police Commissioner Shanta Knowles remembered the officer who had become a familiar face on the streets of the Bahamas.

She said Stephen had grown into a “skilled policeman” and a “familiar and popular sight” in the community.

Stephen, she said, had a way of turning simple moments into “something beautiful.”

During the country’s Independence celebrations, Knowles recalled inviting him to a reception at Police Headquarters after he had escorted her.

Stephen apparently made sure his colleagues knew about it.

He proudly told them that he was the Commissioner’s special guest — a moment that drew laughter from those gathered at his funeral.

There was one more recognition Stephen never got the chance to hear. Commissioner Knowles said Stephen had been promoted to the rank of Sergeant in July. But the promotion was only officially announced in October, after his death.

Stephen never knew that he had been promoted.

He had earned the rank, but never got the opportunity to wear it, hear his name called as Sergeant or celebrate the achievement with the people who knew how hard he had worked.

“We loved him; we respected him; we depended on him,” Commissioner Knowles said.

Corporal Steven Duncombe, for many of his friends, was the kind of person you could call when you needed help.

When his colleague John Rolle reached out recently to ask Duncombe to escort his family to his nephew’s funeral on Saturday, September 5, 2026, he did not hesitate.

“I gat you bro,” Duncombe told him.

Rolle said in a social media post that he knew he could count on Duncombe. What he could never have imagined was that, less than two weeks later, he would be preparing to mourn the man who had promised to stand by his side.

“I can’t believe it,” Rolle said, remembering Duncombe as a brother and someone who was always willing to lend a helping hand.

Steven Duncombe, a 37-year-old serving member of the Royal Bahamas Police Force, died following a traffic accident in the area of Prince Charles Drive and Garden Road.

Duncombe’s police motorcycle collided with and a white Suzuki motor vehicle. Duncombe was found suffering from injuries, while the Suzuki’s female passenger also reported sustaining head injuries.

Despite medical efforts, Duncombe succumbed to his injuries shortly after 3 a.m. on Monday.

But beyond the circumstances of his death, those who knew him are remembering the life he lived and the impression he left.

To many, Duncombe was a serious and dedicated officer who took pride in his work as a police cyclist. To others, he was “Stevie,” “Luca” or simply a friend who could turn an ordinary moment into a memory.

Vana described him as “the people’s favourite rider” and “our favourite Facebook police officer.”

The Royal Bahamas Police Staff Association remembered his unwavering dedication to service, professionalism and commitment as a police cyclist, qualities it said reflected the very best of the Force.

Others spoke of his time serving in Harbour Island, describing him as one of the finest officers to work there.

Michael Clarke remembered a man who could make people laugh until they cried, even while dealing with his own challenges.

Clarke said their friendship was filled with teasing, arguments and jokes. They were, as he put it, “like Tom and Jerry”—but always with love underneath.

“Most times, I was funny but Stevie was funnier!” Clarke recalled.

He also remembered Duncombe as someone who supported his efforts without question and regularly offered encouragement.

“Bey Mike, don’t worry about that. Keep doing you,” Duncombe would tell him. That encouragement, Clarke said, was typical of the man he knew.

Clarke said their last conversation took place just days before the accident.

“The parties, outings, real-life conversations, check-ins… will be cherished forever,” Clarke said, describing Duncombe as “a true gentle giant and a kind soul.”

For Duncombe’s cousin, the loss remains almost impossible to process. After hearing the news, the cousin said they posted a message on his Facebook wall, only to delete it moments later because no one else had posted yet.

There was still a small hope that the information was wrong—that a call would come saying Duncombe had received a second chance.

“You broke a lot of hearts,” the cousin wrote, struggling to understand how Duncombe’s name could now appear alongside the words “rest in peace.”

Raven Hepburn shared a similar disbelief, remembering how loved ones had hoped Duncombe’s brief responses before his death were signs that he was fighting his way back.

“He fought,” she wrote, describing him as a fighter whose time had ended far too soon.

Kjay Worrell recalled the “Atlantis runner days” and said Duncombe had always been solid.

Member of Parliament for Seabreeze Leslia Brice described Duncombe as a stellar gentleman, a first-class officer and a man who performed his duties with excellence, always with a smile.

Duncombe was 2007 graduate of Nassau Christian Academy.

At around 12 years old, Freddie Mackey learned a lesson no child should have to learn: life can change overnight.

His father had been a police officer for about a decade. His mother worked at a daycare. To young Freddie, they represented hard work, stability and responsibility.

Then drugs entered their lives.

Both of his parents became caught in addiction, and the stability Freddie knew began to disappear. Eventually, he experienced homelessness and found himself navigating circumstances that could have easily changed the course of his life.

“At that age, you do not fully understand why your life is falling apart,” he recalls

.“You only know that the people you depend on are no longer able to give you the stability and protection you need.”

There were plenty of reasons for Freddie to give up. Instead, he kept moving.

Looking back, he believes God was protecting him even when he could not see where his life was headed.

“I truly believe God had His hand over my life,” he says.

His childhood taught him resilience, his circumstances taught him that life would not always be fair, and the absence of stability created in him a hunger for discipline and purpose.

He also made a decision that he would not become a product of his circumstances.

His father’s earlier career in policing had left an impression. Despite the difficulties that later overtook his family, Freddie remembered the uniform, the discipline and the idea of serving others.

In 2002, he joined the Royal Bahamas Police Force. Years later, he became a Sergeant.

For Freddie, the achievement meant far more than a promotion, but represented a journey from a homeless child in Nassau to a man entrusted with responsibility, leadership and the protection of others.

“Every promotion and every achievement reminded me that my past had not defeated me,” he says.

He eventually received the Medal for Long Service and Good Conduct—another milestone in a career that stood in stark contrast to the circumstances of his childhood.

But after approximately two decades serving the Bahamas, Freddie made another difficult decision.

He left. Moving to Toronto meant surrendering the familiarity, recognition and professional standing he had spent years building.

In Canada, he was the new person again.

He had to learn a different system, adapt to a different culture and prove himself all over again.

Today, he works as a Toronto Police Service Parking Enforcement Officer.

Sometimes, when he puts on the uniform, he thinks about the boy he once was. The child who knew homelessness, the teenager who watched addiction change his family, the young man who chose a different path and the Sergeant who served his country.

And now, the immigrant who started again.

“Only God could have brought me this far,” he says.

His greatest hope, however, is about the young Bahamian who may be living through the kind of childhood he once knew.

His message is simple: do not give up.

Stay away from drugs and crime, choose your friends carefully, get an education, learn a trade, find positive mentors, work hard and keep your faith.

Most importantly, he says, remember that your circumstances are not your destiny.

“You may be growing up in a home affected by drugs. You may be living in poverty. You may not know where your next meal is coming from.”

“But none of those things mean your life is finished before it has even begun.”

Freddie cannot change his childhood, neither can he rewrite what happened to his parents.

But he can decide what their story means.

“My past is part of me, but it does not control me.”

Just four months ago, Constable Brenville Stubbs stood in front of television cameras trying to explain the discovery of his grandmother’s death and that of her husband.

Now, friends and family who watched him remain strong through that tragedy are mourning him.

Stubbs, 24, died on May 10 after suffering injuries in a car accident one week earlier. He was trapped inside his vehicle after it collided with a tree along East West Highway in the early morning hours of May 3. Emergency crews used the Jaws of Life to free him from the wreckage before he was rushed to Doctors Hospital.

Despite efforts to save him, he later succumbed to his injuries.

On Friday, family, friends, fellow officers and members of the public gathered at Golden Gates Assembly Church to celebrate his life and say goodbye.

Affectionately known as “Bjay,” the young constable was remembered for his dedicated service, the lasting impact he made on the Royal Bahamas Police Force and his commitment to duty.

In February, Stubbs became known to the country after he was the one who discovered the bodies of his grandmother, 68-year-old Thereasa Pearce, and her husband, 79-year-old William Pearce.

After relatives grew concerned and were unable to reach his grandmother, Stubbs went to her home to check on her welfare.

He broke through a window and made the heartbreaking discovery.

Even then, he remained composed. “I had to stay strong,” he said at the time.

Friends say that quiet strength was part of who Brenville was.

Family friend Ann Wright remembered him from childhood. “He was quiet and a sweetheart,” she said in a social media post.

To his fellow officers, he was family.

“RIP, my brother,” fellow officer Alyx Williams wrote. “It was my honor to know you and to have you as a member of a great squad.”

His sister’s grief captured what many have struggled to say.

“I need someone to wake me up because I still feel as though I’m dreaming,” she said.

Bahamas Department of Correction Services Commissioner Doan Cleare’s recent comments about the struggle to recruit qualified men may have unintentionally exposed a much bigger issue facing the country.

What if the problem is not that the country cannot find enough qualified men, but that more young men simply do not see the uniformed services as a desirable career?

For generations, joining the Royal Bahamas Police Force, Royal Bahamas Defence Force or the Bahamas Department of Correctional Services represented stability, respect and opportunity.

The uniforms carried prestige and it meant a steady paycheck, a pension, and a clear path to advancement.

Particularly those from the working-class families, these careers offered a route into the middle class.

Today, that appeal may be fading.

Commissioner Cleare revealed that despite a nationwide search, BDOCS officials could not find enough qualified men to meet recruitment targets. He said similar concerns have surfaced within other uniformed branches over the years.

What has changed could partly be economic.Many young Bahamians now compare government salaries against other opportunities in the trades and entrepreneurship. While uniformed service offers job security, some may view the starting pay and demanding working conditions as less attractive than they once were.

There is also the issue of image. Previous generations often viewed police officers, prison officers and defence force officers as symbols of authority. But today’s young people are growing up in a different environment, shaped by social media, changing attitudes toward authority and new meanings of success.

Some aspire to become business owners, influencers or entrepreneurs rather than public servants.

Education may also play a role. Commissioner Cleare suggested that many young men are failing to meet minimum academic requirements. If fewer males are graduating with the qualifications needed to enter uniformed services, the recruitment pool shrinks.

Yet the most striking detail he revealed was the abundance of women.

While officials struggled to find qualified male recruits, hundreds of women reportedly remained on waiting lists.

Perhaps women are increasingly embracing opportunities that men are not willing to embrace.

If so, the issue facing corrections may be a warning sign of a broader shift in Bahamian society—one where young women are moving into spaces where many of today’s young men refuse to go.

Can the country’s institutions adapt to that reality, or can they find a way to make uniformed service appealing to a new generation once again?

The sanctuary filled slowly, then all at once with uniforms, family and friends of Johnathan Johnson.

Laughter and tears mingled as loved ones remembered the life of the police constable killed last month in a crash along East Bay Street.

He loved being an officer.

To Pastor Monique Davis of Judea Family Worship Center, he was “Johnny,” a young man who loved God and showed it quietly.

“I knew he loved his God,” she said. “He used to work the late shift, get off at 8 o’clock, and by 11 o’clock he was still in the house of the Lord.”

After every Sunday service, he had a ritual. Stuttering slightly, smiling widely, he would follow her and ask, “Mama, what you cook?” The church erupted in laughter at the memory.

He loved to give. Last Christmas, he bought her a pair of shoes, the heel too high, and insisted she walk in them so he could see how they fit.

Senior Assistant Commissioner of Police Rodger Thompson described him as diligent, respectful and unwavering in his loyalty to the Royal Bahamas Police Force. After a transfer from the Bahamas Department of Correctional Services, he served in Prosecutions and the Western Division with dedication.

“He was called to serve,” Thompson said. “Humble, well-mannered and kind.”

But it was his best friend, Tyrik Ingraham, who captured the ache of the loss.

Friends since high school, they were inseparable, fishing for hours, arguing over who caught more, communicating without words. “We were the only two that could make jokes,” he said softly and tearfully, “but not to be joked on.”

“I lost a brother,” Ingraham said. “I lost someone I trusted with life-changing decisions. I lost someone who could pull me out of my darkest moments.”

Elder Justin Rahming remembered training alongside him as a prison officer, how he once slept through the training sessions and still passed the exam. Later, when Rahming met him at a police roadblock, Johnny’s simple request was, “Pastor, pray for me.”

Featured images and photos: Through the Eyes of Ezra

The family of 60-year-old Felix Morley is struggling to come to terms with his sudden and violent death, following an incident on East Bay Street late Saturday night.

“We ga miss you…You were a good friend to us,” Devonyah Rolle wrote. “Like you always said, it’s about trust and friendship.”

News of Morley’s killing spread quickly, sending shockwaves on social media among those who knew him—on social media, friends and relatives flooded timelines with simple tributes, many writing “RIP,” while others shared brief memories.

Former Speaker of the House Halson Moultrie reflected on knowing Morley from earlier years, describing him as “highly spirited” and “a wonderful soul.”

According to police, Morley was beaten about the upper body and died at the scene. A suspect has since been arrested, but for those grieving, the arrest does little to ease the pain.

“We continue to be so cruel to each other,” Tony Smith wrote, expressing a sentiment shared by many who see Morley’s death as part of a wider pattern of violence affecting the country.

For some, the loss feels especially raw because their final moments with Morley were recent.

Eclipses Stubbs said he had seen him just days before his death and recalled a quiet, ordinary moment that now carries only memories.

“I was able to sit and have a cold soda with him,” Stubbs shared.

“Rest easy, Uncle Felix. We love and miss you,” the tributes continued.

Friends were shaken on Thursday by the tragic death of Arnold Simms, a 61-year-old man of Westridge.

The news spread quickly, leaving friends and neighbours struggling to understand the sudden loss.

“Why, bro?” close friend Rush Bevans asked in disbelief. “This really bothered me,” he said in a social media post.

The sorrow was felt by many who knew Simms.

Police, still investigating the incident, say Simms was found in his home, suspended from the attic with a cord attached.

Julie Hoffer, who had recently seen him at the Hoffer Shopping Center West, was stunned by the news as she processed his passing. Their connection, she said, is rooted in Long Island ties.

Roslyn Rodgers, a former colleague, was shocked when she heard the news: “Oh my goodness! He was a nice person, rather pleasant indeed.”

In the midst of the grief, Bevans reminded loved ones about the importance of checking in on one another.

“Get nosy. Check on those we love,” he urged. “Be intentional in asking how they are doing and if they are okay. I believe the warning signs are always there. Sometimes we don’t see them, or we choose to mind our own business. It’s time to be nosy with our friends and our loved ones.”

Simms’ death sparked conversations about mental health and the importance of checking in on others.

If you or someone you know is struggling, reach out to a trusted friend, family member, faith leader, or healthcare provider for support.

Or you can call the Bahamas Crisis Centre at 328-0922.

In an emergency, contact the emergency services.

You are not alone.

After police issued a missing person alert for a 25-year-old woman, she popped up online, not in distress, but very much alive and apparently very annoyed.

Alicia Forbes, who authorities said was last seen on November 13, showed up in the comments under the Royal Bahamas Police Force’s Facebook post to clear the air.

According to her, the only thing missing was the ‘truth’.

Using the name Baby Queen, Forbes wrote, “This is not truth.”

She added that she’s not missing. She just wanted some freedom.

“I just want to have fun… My family always have me on lockdown. I can’t go anywhere with nobody, so I keep running away,” she admitted publicly, sending the comment section into a mix of laughter, disbelief, and motherly scolding.

When commenters urged her to at least call home, Forbes insisted her family wasn’t listening.

“I tried,” she said. “I just want to have a little bit of fun, ok. I am 20 years old.”

Police said 25. She said 20. At this point, everyone was missing something.

One Facebook user, Portia Cooper, gave her a stern warning:

“Young lady, let your family know you’re safe. Too much danger in this lil island. Be careful with the fun you looking for.”

But Forbes held her ground with one final reminder: “I am not missing.”

Police have updated the poster. By now, everyone on Facebook knows exactly where she is.

Just about eleven months after stepping down as Commissioner of Police, Clayton Fernander has resurfaced as Consul General to Toronto, Canada.

His appointment comes on the heels of a turbulent period for the Royal Bahamas Police Force, marked by allegations that officers under his command used their positions to smuggle contraband into the United States.

Though Fernander was not personally implicated in the wrongdoing, his sudden resignation on December 4, 2024, raised questions. Now, his diplomatic posting has many asking:

How did we get here?

November 26, 2024: A force under scrutiny

The RBPF faced one of its most serious public scandals when U.S. authorities reportedly uncovered a network involving Bahamian officers–two officers of the Royal Bahamas Police Force and one officer of the Royal Bahamas Defence Force, accused of using their position to facilitate contraband smuggling operations into the US.

December 4, 2024: Clayton Fernander resigns

Fernander was never named in the allegations, but the issue cast such a shadow over his leadership that calls for accountability grew louder. He resigned as Commissioner, with Prime Minister Philip Davis announcing in the House of Assembly that he accepted the resignation, saying the police force “needs change.”

November 3, 2025: From resignation to redeployment

About eleven months later, the government announced Fernander’s appointment as Consul General in Toronto, one of the country’s key diplomatic posts, with a large Bahamian diaspora.

This has caught many by surprise. Some argue that the appointment suggests a “soft landing” for a top official exiting under pressure, while supporters say Fernander’s experience and international training with Canadian contacts make him fit for the role.

What does a Consul General do?

The Consul General represents the Bahamas abroad, assisting Bahamian citizens, promoting the country and supporting diplomatic missions.

The post comes with perks: official residence and a good salary.

These appointments are made directly by the Cabinet, often reflecting the government’s confidence in the individual’s loyalty and leadership skills.

Why this matters

Fernander’s return to public office in a diplomatic role defines about how accountability works in the Bahamas.

Some may ask, ‘Why do some officials reappear in powerful posts so soon after controversy? And ‘Is this a reflection of how political loyalty outweighs public perception?’

Fernander’s appointment is a familiar pattern in Bahamian politics, where resignation amidst a scandal is without accountability, but is followed by reward through a form of redeployment.

The bottom line

Fernander’s move from the country’s top cop to the country’s representative in Toronto is a case study in how the system in the Bahamas deals with power and political loyalty.