Fellow actors and fans of Sam Neill mourned his passing after the New Zealand actor died Monday following a diagnosis of a rare type of non-Hodgkin lymphoma.
Neill achieved his highest level of fame in “Jurassic Park” playing paleontologist Alan Grant, who is summoned to an island off Costa Rica where a theme park has been built to house herds of cloned dinosaurs. He co-starred alongside Laura Dern, Jeff Goldblum and Richard Attenborough.
Neill earned an Emmy nomination for his performance in the title role of the 1998 miniseries “Merlin” and another as narrator of 2017’s “Wild New Zealand.” Neill also earned three Golden Globe nods — for “Merlin,” “One Against the Wind” and “Reilly: Ace of Spies.”
Some notable reactions:
“Sam was exceptionally collaborative. It was a stretch for him to play a character who acted as though children were messy and smelly because this was the opposite of the loving father he was to his children. I adored making all the Jurassic movies with him. Along with Laura Dern and Jeff Goldblum, we will always have our Jurassic family and Sam will never be forgotten by us or his many millions of fans around the world.” — in a statement.
“Sam was my beloved lifetime friend… He showed me the depths of loyalty, protectiveness, and love, always with the driest of wit. He was a true and noble gentleman, wrapped up in my dream leading man. I will love you forever, Dr. Alan Grant.” — via Instagram.
“Knew @samneilltheprop for 3 decades and finally worked with him on ‘PALM BEACH’ in 2018. An officer and a Gentleman in the truest sense. Guided and helped me through a very difficult time in my Life … Sail on, kind Sir. — via Instagram.
“Like everyone who knew and worked with Sam, I admired him and adored him in equal measure. He was one of the kindest, funniest and gentlest people, and one of the finest actors … RIP.” — in a statement.
“Sam was one of the greats, a joy to be around,” she said. “We met when I was just 18 and he took me under his wing and we stayed friends for life. He was charming, kind, funny and intelligent. He will be greatly missed, and my heart goes out to his family.” — in a statement to the Sydney Morning Herald.
“I’m deeply saddened by the untimely loss of my dear friend, @samneilltheprop. We first crossed paths years ago through our work, but what I came to treasure most was the man himself—funny, endlessly curious, wickedly intelligent, generous, and always able to make you feel at ease. ... He carried himself with grace, humility, and a wonderfully mischievous sense of humor that made every conversation a pleasure. ... Rest peacefully, Sam. You’ll be missed more than words can say.” — via Instagram.
“Sam Neill was a deeply soulful and beautiful man. He was a friend and collaborator at a challenging time, and his strength gave us all strength. I’ll remember him for his tranquility, his love of wine, and for the calm assuredness he brought to his characters. It’s not every lifetime you get to befriend a legend. Forever grateful.” — via Instagram.
“Sir Sam Neill was one of the greats. He started out when there was barely a film industry in this country to speak of. For more than fifty years he took New Zealand stories to the world and his talents helped make our film industry into what it is today — one of our greatest cultural exports.” — via X.
"It was just a few weeks ago that I had the profound joy of sitting with Sam Neill, talking about life, politics, and home. He was such a thoughtful, curious, and decent person. Someone who was principled, unafraid of speaking his mind, and willing to take up a fight when he saw injustice. ... We’ve lost another incredible kiwi, and I feel profoundly sad. All my aroha to his whanau and friends. And to you, Sam, you have our gratitude and admiration. Rest easy. Moe mai rā" — via Instagram.
“Sam Neill starred in so many beloved Australian stories and he earned a special place in Australian hearts. Wry and dry, thoughtful and laconic, Sam fought illness with the same dignity, humour and conviction that gave strength to his every performance. He will be much mourned and long remembered. May he rest in peace.” — via X.
“My condolences and appreciation for the immense joy and mastery Sam Neill brought our industry. Do yourself a favor and find ‘DEAN SPANLEY’ on a streamer- he’s wonderful and it will soothe someplace in your spirit that needs it now. — via Instagram.
“This man made me feel like I could fly. Even when I was all over the place in his presence he made it ok. We loved to talk rugby. RIP my old mate. Sam Neill, a true gentleman.” — via Instagram.
“Such a shock — loved by so many — I’ll be cracking two paddocks tonight,” referring to wine from the actor’s vineyard, via Instagram.
“Vale Sam,” a Latin term for “farewell” that’s often used in Australia and New Zealand, via Instagram.
“I love you, dear Sam. You hero. You legend. You sweetheart. Our great friend. You are already missed so very much. Continue in peace wherever you are.” — via Instagram.
“Sending love and condolences to your family. A remarkable man and artist. NZ loses a giant and one of its greatest gifts.” — via Instagram.
“It was the greatest of honours to shout at Sam onscreen and to laugh ourselves silly offscreen. He was truly the most wondrous human. Not was. Still is. Will always be. Such is his incredible legacy of life, art, advocacy and love.” — via Instagram.
FILE - Actor Sam Neill poses at the premiere of "Hunt for the Wilderpeople" during the 2016 Sundance Film Festival on Jan. 22, 2016, in Park City, Utah. (Photo by Danny Moloshok/Invision/AP, File)
LOS ANGELES (AP) — After her parents went missing under the rubble of their Venezuela apartment building, Kelly Granado Montano spent her days here “lost, worried, on the phone,” her body in one country, her mind in another.
“The desperation, the pain, and the anguish grew — from not knowing” their fate, she said.
She was among the more than one million Venezuelans living in the United States who watched one of the worst disasters to hit the South American country unfold from afar.
The powerful back-to-back earthquakes that struck north-central Venezuela on June 24 killed more than 6,500 people, left an untold number missing and damaged thousands of buildings.
As the news overtook social media feeds and family WhatsApp chats, survivor’s guilt, anger toward Venezuelan authorities and a devastating feeling of powerlessness overcame many in the diaspora, a group whose numbers doubled to 1.2 million between 2019 to 2024, as people sought relief primarily from economic hardship.
More than two months later, some Venezuelans in the U.S. still navigate the earthquakes’ aftermath — confronting loss and leading recovery efforts — against a backdrop of deepening uncertainty in both countries, largely tied to White House policies.
As President Donald Trump tightens his grip on Venezuela’s domestic affairs following the stunning U.S. military operation that deposed then-President Nicolás Maduro in January, his administration is narrowing paths to remain in the U.S., ending programs that allow more than 700,000 Venezuelans to live and work here legally.
Some immigrants feel a responsibility to keep shining light on Venezuela’s ongoing needs and unique challenges. “People think we are fine, but we are not,” said Dariela Merchan, an emergency room nurse in Austin, Texas.
Four Venezuelans living in the U.S. shared how they experienced the last two months, and what their futures might hold. This story is a collaboration with Caplin News in Miami and Phoenix-based Conecta Arizona.
Granado Montano called her parents over and over the evening of June 24, but there was no answer.
Marina, 66, and Jesús, 80, had last been seen in the underground parking of the building where they kept a beach apartment, about to leave from a family vacation. The 10-story building in the coastal state of La Guaira had completely collapsed.
Granado Montano, 43, last saw her parents 11 years ago. Unable to leave the U.S., and with so little help from Venezuelan authorities, looking for her parents alongside relatives and volunteers on the ground became “an odyssey.”
She fundraised for the search efforts and pleaded on social media for more help to reach their building, one of 190 that completely collapsed. A group searching for their loved ones spent thousands hiring a machine to move debris, to little avail. Progress began when someone donated an excavator and a drone operator helped locate missing remains.
In the midst of everything, Granado Montano turned her Los Angeles restaurant, Full Arepas, into a relief hub, filling shipping containers with donations to be sent to Venezuela. “Knowing we are helping people who are going through something similar … it brings me a little relief,” she said.
And so 57 days passed, until the afternoon of Aug. 19. Granado Montano was at work when a cousin sent her a video of her parents' van, covered in rubble.
Inside, volunteers found her mother and father; her cousin and her 9-year-old daughter; her daughter’s friend; her cousin’s boyfriend and his 13-year-old son. Her father had his seat belt on.
Learning they’d been found was “bittersweet,” she said. Her family had been recovered, but "it wasn’t the way we had wanted – alive.”
She processes one day at a time – keeping busy at the restaurant and establishing a foundation to continue helping Venezuelans. Unable to attend the memorial for her parents in Venezuela, Granado Montano and her sister held their own service at a Los Angeles church.
“They were together for 45 years and into eternity,” said Granado Montano. “Because they were found just as I had hoped they would be. Together.”
Dariela Merchan longed to put her medical skills to use on the ground. But an expired Venezuelan passport prevented the emergency room nurse from returning to the country she first left 14 years, a common issue after Venezuelan consulates in the U.S. shuttered years ago.
With her father and sister safe in Venezuela, her concern shifted to overwhelmed and underresourced medical workers, and the patients who badly needed their help. The healthcare system was already so weakened before the earthquakes that medications were scarce and a hospital’s electricity and water could go out at any time.
“They’re trying to survive and trying to work with what they have,” said Merchan, 28. She asked doctor friends in Venezuela what they needed. They told her, “Literally anything.”
A prolific content producer on TikTok whose nursing-related videos sometimes yield millions of views, Merchan called on her network there. She connected healthcare workers with platforms where they could volunteer free telehealth sessions for those affected. A single TikTok post garnered 500 signups, she said.
When Merchan called on brands to contribute, a medical apparel company mailed her 200 sets of new scrubs. Wary of theft by officials or others, she resolved to ship the scrubs door-to-door to a health nonprofit working in the hard-hit state of La Guaira. She crowdfunded part of the $1,200 shipping fee, covering the rest herself.
Between night shifts, Merchan packs more donated supplies for shipment, including packets of electrolyte powder for first responders. She tucks in handwritten notes thanking the health workers, reminding them they’re not alone. “We’re watching and we’re with you,” she wants them to know, “from all over the world.”
One week after his aunt Yolanda died under the rubble of her apartment building, Alejandro Marquina discovered an Instagram message from her, congratulating him on a recent work accomplishment.
He hadn’t seen it and never replied.
The unanswered message is a painful reminder of his grief after the earthquakes killed five of Marquina’s family members in his home state of La Guaira.
“I felt like a really bad person,” said Marquina, 22. “She was really proud of me. And now, she’s gone.”
In the weeks after the earthquakes, recurring nightmares plagued Marquina. He rarely left his house, racked with survivor’s guilt. The Florida International University senior struggled to attend classes and stopped driving – afraid something bad would happen. Going out with friends or his girlfriend sometimes triggered panic attacks.
“I was just feeling like, I’m here having fun, but my family is dying,” he said. “Many people in Venezuela, not even just my family, they’re fighting for their lives.”
Marquina, his parents and sister moved to South Florida in 2015 as his family fled oppression and sought better opportunities outside Venezuela. They landed in Doral, a city in Miami-Dade County with such a large Venezuelan population its nickname became “ Doralzuela.”
Now the faraway tragedy weighs on Marquina as he confronts uncertainties over his future and that of many others as the Trump administration tightens immigration and citizenship policies.
Marquina enrolled in therapy after the earthquakes, which he said helped him begin working through what happened. But it was sending aid that kept him moving forward.
The journalism major used his social media skills to raise awareness. He's collected $2,000 so far for earthquake survivors, including his own displaced family members.
“I needed to do something,” he said. “I couldn’t just stay in my house."
Diana Ramos had trouble reaching her parents and grandmother at first, but they were ok, save some minor damage and shattered sentimental dishware.
Overwhelmed by the flood of GoFundMe campaigns and volunteer drives, Ramos, 27, reflected on how to make a difference from Tucson, Arizona, where she first arrived as a recruited college athlete.
Some of her fondest memories of childhood in Guatire, a city 45 minutes east of Caracas, were from school. She messaged one of her teachers and learned her elementary school was shut down after being badly damaged. Ramos raised $4,000 from friends and family to help repair the building.
But weeks later came a new blow: Another huge earthquake in Colombia, home to 2.8 million Venezuelans, including her sister Duneida. Both of her sister’s workplaces in the hard-hit city of Cali were damaged, one totally destroyed, wiping out part of her income. For a while, Ramos heard less from her sister, who was overwhelmed and upset.
“It just feels like I have my heart in two parts of two different countries,” said Ramos. “So that’s just been sad.”
Ramos wonders how much more her people can take after two decades of political turmoil and economic crisis. “All these things are accumulating without anything being solved,” she said.
The recent deal that gives the U.S. access to roughly a fifth of Venezuela’s oil reserves — which some tout as an economic lifeline, while others criticize it as an affront to Venezuelan sovereignty — didn’t change Ramos’ outlook.
She’s moving forward, clutching to her routine in Tucson and the hope of seeing her family again soon. “The earthquakes put into perspective how life can go within a second.”
——
This story is supported by the AP Fund for Journalism and is a collaboration with Caplin News in Miami and Conecta Arizona in Phoenix.
Associated Press coverage of philanthropy and nonprofits receives support through the AP’s collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content. For all of AP’s philanthropy coverage, visit https://apnews.com/hub/philanthropy.
Diana Ramos poses for a photo on the University of Arizona campus on Friday, Aug. 21, 2026 in Tucson, Ariz. (Paula Diaz/Conecta Arizona via AP)
Alejandro Marquina shows a photo of his aunt Yolanda Suárez on his phone after the earthquakes killed her and four other members of his family in his home state of La Guaira, on Saturday, Aug. 29, 2026, in Doral, Fla. (AP Photo/David Santiago)
Alejandro Marquina, seen from behind, looks toward the horizon on Saturday, Aug. 29, 2026, in Doral, Fla. (AP Photo/David Santiago)
Dariela Merchan, a registered nurse, scrolls through the Instagram profile of an organization she is shipping supplies to in Venezuela for people recovering from June's twin earthquakes, at her home on Friday, Sept. 4, 2026, in Georgetown, Texas. (AP Photo/Joel Angel Juarez)
Dariela Merchan, a registered nurse, poses for a portrait at her home on Friday, Sept. 4, 2026, in Georgetown, Texas. Merchan is organizing supplies to be shipped to people in Venezuela recovering from June's twin earthquakes. (AP Photo/Joel Angel Juarez)
Kelly Granado, whose parents, Marina and Jesús, died in Venezuela's June 24 earthquakes, holds a photo of them at her restaurant in downtown Los Angeles, Tuesday, Aug. 25, 2026. (AP Photo/Jae C. Hong)
Kelly Granado, whose parents died in Venezuela's June 24 earthquakes, poses for photos at her restaurant in downtown Los Angeles, Tuesday, Aug. 25, 2026. (AP Photo/Jae C. Hong)
