John Ashton, famous for playing Detective John Taggart in the “Beverly Hills Cop” movies, has sadly passed away at the age of 76. Now, his family has a special request.
Keep reading to learn more.
John Ashton died peacefully in Ft. Collins, Colorado, this past Thursday. His family and friends are heartbroken over his loss.
He passed away after bravely fighting cancer, according to his representative, Alan Somers. Somers shared that Ashton’s legacy is one of “love, dedication, and service,” and his family will continue to celebrate his life. He is survived by his wife, children, grandchildren, siblings, and more.
To honor the late actor’s life and legacy, the family is asking for donations to be made to Pathways Hospice Care in his memory.
Ashton was a well-known name in Hollywood for over 50 years, lighting up screens with more than 200 film, TV, and stage performances. While fans loved many of his roles, it was his portrayal of the straight-laced detective alongside Eddie Murphy’s wild cop character, Axel Foley, that made him a household name.
Ashton’s character, Detective Billy Rosewood, provided the perfect contrast to his co-star’s character, adding energy and humor to the films.
The film was a major success and established Ashton’s name in Hollywood. In July of this year, “Beverly Hills Cop: Axel F” premiered. In an interview, Ashton revealed that the film had taken 20 years to make before finally being released.
He mentioned there was a lot of uncertainty surrounding the film, to the point that he had given up on the idea and moved on to other projects. By the time he received a call about the film, he was already working on another project in Chicago.
After finishing his film, he went to L.A. to meet director Mark Molloy. Ashton knew that the film could only move forward if Murphy approved the script.
He said he knew he could fully commit to the project when Murphy greenlit the script and Jerry Bruckheimer joined as a producer.
In addition to his iconic role in “Beverly Hills Cop,” Ashton also had notable appearances in the show “M*A*S*H” and played Eric Stoltz’s father in the John Hughes comedy-drama “Some Kind of Wonderful.”
He started his career at a young age, with his first professional role in a production of “Othello” at the Hartford Stage Company. He later toured the world in various theater productions.
Ashton received great recognition for his acting, including an LA Method Fest award for Best Supporting Actor for his role in “Once Upon a River.”
He also appeared in several films, including “Death in Texas” (2020), “American Christmas” (2019), and “My Little Baby” (2019), among others.
Beyond his career, he was a devoted family man. He leaves behind his wife of 24 years, Robin Hoye, and his children, Michelle and Michael Thomas Ashton.
He is also survived by his stepchildren, Courtney Donovan, Lindsay Curcio, and Ashley Hoye, as well as his grandson Henry, his sisters Sharon Ann Ashton and Linda Jean Ashton, and his brother Edward Richard Ashton.
My Wife Gradually Distanced Herself from My Daughter and Me — Then She Left an Envelope and Disappeared
When my wife began to distance herself from me and our daughter, I was baffled. My story reveals how profound love can sometimes lead to protecting loved ones in unexpected ways. Discover how we navigated through secrets, white lies, and heartbreak to ultimately strengthen our family bond.
There’s a haunting uncertainty in not knowing the full truth, particularly when it involves those closest to you. Let’s go back a bit; I’m Kevin, and Levine and I have shared 15 wonderful years of marriage.
Together, we have an incredible child, Emily, who is still young and in school. My wife and daughter are my world, and I thought we had a perfect family life. Yet, about six months ago, Levine began to withdraw from Emily and me.
Over the months, I watched as my once affectionate wife became increasingly remote. Minor changes in her behavior soon escalated into her avoiding us entirely. Her smiles became rare, and her nights restless.
I often saw her tearful in the bathroom. Whenever I tried to discuss it, she dismissed my concerns with a shaky “I’m fine,” although clearly, she was not. This unspoken tension heavily affected me and our daughter, straining our family dynamic.
“Levine, please talk to me,” I urged one night as I found her gazing out the window, her posture tense.
“I just need some air, Kevin. That’s all,” she whispered, barely audible.
My worry deepened as I approached her. “You’ve been ‘just needing air’ for months. You’re scaring me, baby. You’re scaring Emily.”
She faced me then, her eyes brimming with tears yet unshed. “I can’t, not yet…” she murmured before turning back to the window, leaving me feeling utterly helpless.
Yesterday, after picking Emily up from school, I returned to a strangely quiet home. The morning had started like any other, except Levine didn’t say goodbye. My wife, usually at home, was nowhere to be found.
But on the kitchen table, amidst our usual clutter, lay an ominous envelope with my name in Levine’s handwriting.
With a sinking heart, I opened it, trembling. Inside was her letter, penned in the same shaky hand:
“My dearest husband,
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