For more than 33 years, I’ve stood behind the camera, in front of the notepad, and on the streets, covering the stories that shape our island. Come December 2nd, it will be 34 years in this profession — a career I’ve dedicated to truth, to our people, and to giving voice to our community. But on May 1st of this year, that line between reporter and human being blurred in the most painful way imaginable.
By TNN’s Trevor Lindsay
That night, as I stood outside Legends Bar for hours covering yet another tragic shooting, I didn’t know that my own niece was inside—lifeless on the floor. I didn’t know that the story I was reporting would become the story that broke my heart.
When I found out, I couldn’t even bring myself to tell my sister that her daughter, her baby, wasn’t coming home. In that moment, I had to remove the reporter’s hat I’d worn for three decades and let my humanity take over. But how do you find words for something like that? How do you tell a mother that her child’s life has been taken away by senseless violence?
Since that night, Bermuda has seen five deaths and five others injured. The shootings that began on May 1st have spiraled — connected acts of violence that continue to wound families and communities. Two more incidents on Court Street are all tied to the same web of pain, anger, and revenge.
We, as a country, as an island, must come together and find a way to stop this cycle. This gang activity, these shootings, these murders — they are not just statistics. They are our children, our neighbors, our families.
Our young people — both male and female — are crying out for help. Many of these children are carrying the weight of loss. Their fathers were murdered since the start of these brutal killings 104 persons have been shot dead. Their brothers are gone. Their hearts are full of rage, grief, and confusion. And then there are the mothers — strong, but struggling, raising children on their own, often pouring out their own pain in harsh words without realizing they’re fueling the fire inside their sons and daughters.
Our young people don’t need more punishment. They need love. They need healing. They need us.
Bermuda, we need to love our children again. We need to put aside our pride, our grudges, our indifference, and start loving each other. We must heal our island.
In just a few days, Janae Minors will be laid to rest. Her children and family are shattered. The families of the two individuals shot on Court Street are hurting. And they are not alone — since 2002, countless families across this island have carried the same pain, the same loss, the same unanswered “Why?”
Bermuda, we cannot go on like this. We must come together — as one people, one community, one heart — and stop the bloodshed. It starts with love. It starts with healing. It starts with us.
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