He grew up between Mallorca and Montana, chasing stories first on small stages, then in the bright, unforgiving lights of daytime television. On Days of Our Lives, The Bold and the Beautiful, and Jane the Virgin, he slipped into other people’s lives so convincingly that millions felt they knew him. Yet when the studio gates closed and the makeup came off, he faced a quieter script no audience could see, wrestling with doubts and pressures that never made it into the tabloids.
Co-stars remember him as the one who stayed late for another take, who cracked jokes to calm a nervous newcomer, who texted encouragement before big scenes. Now their tributes feel like fragments from a show cut short, full of apologies and unsent messages. His death lingers as a stark, aching reminder: the people we assume are “fine” may be the ones needing us most.
