Anchor: Chris Cifatte || Editor Elie Gonzalez
•7/24/2026
FORT MYERS, Fla. (WINK) — A basketball jersey hangs high above the court at a Fort Myers youth center, retired not because of championships won or records broken, but because of a life interrupted.
The No. 3 jersey belongs to Sean Archilles, one of two teenagers killed in the Club Blu mass shooting on July 25, 2016. Ten years later, it stands as a reminder that while gunfire ended his life, it did not end his influence.
Across Southwest Florida, another family carries a similar mission. The family of Stef'an Strawder, an 18-year-old basketball standout also killed that night, continues building scholarships, showcases and foundations in his name.
Their stories are rooted in one of the darkest nights in Southwest Florida history, but today, they are defined by what came afterward.
Just weeks after the Pulse nightclub massacre in Orlando, Southwest Florida awoke to another mass shooting.
Club Blu Bar and Grill in Fort Myers was hosting a teen swimsuit glow party during the overnight hours of July 25, 2016, when gunfire erupted outside the venue. One hundred rounds were fired into a crowd of mostly teenagers, striking 16 people, and ultimately killing Sean Archilles, 14, and Stef'an Strawder, 18.
For hours, uncertainty consumed the community. Many initially feared another hate-driven attack similar to Pulse before investigators determined the shooting was gang-related.
Police tape stretched around the parking lot. Families rushed from hospital to hospital searching for loved ones. Detectives combed the crime scene for shell casings while parents desperately waited for answers.
For Dsean Archilles, Sean's older brother, the nightmare unfolded one phone call at a time.
At first, Dsean ignored the calls. He was busy and assumed whatever was happening could wait.
Then the calls multiplied. One after another. Family members frantically asked if anyone had seen Sean.
Someone told him there had been a shooting.
When Dsean reached Club Blu, officers told families everyone had been taken to hospitals.
But something didn't feel right. Then he saw it. A single black Air Force shoe lying near the crime scene.
It belonged to his little brother.
"I don't think what they're telling me is correct," Dsean recalled.
Hours later, after searching hospitals and clinging to hope, investigators delivered the news.
Sean had died at the scene.
The brother who had shared everything with him — a bedroom, a bed and countless struggles growing up — was gone.
"I never cried so hard in my life," Dsean said. "I honestly didn't want to be here anymore."
At another hospital, Stef'an Strawder's family was enduring the same agony.
Doctors rushed the Lehigh Senior High basketball star into surgery. His mother immediately sensed something was wrong.
Stefan Strawder, 18, and Sean Archilles, 14, who died at Club Blu in 2016. Photo via WINK News.
"They came back too quick," Stephanie White recalled. Moments later, her fears were confirmed.
Stef'an had died.
"I was numb," she said. "I was just sitting there in a daze, not understanding why this happened."
Her daughter had also been shot that night but survived.
The family was left grieving one child while praying for another.
Years later, when asked how she copes with the loss, her answer remains painfully simple.
"I still don't."
Unlike many high-profile shootings, arrests did not come quickly.
The investigation stretched over years as detectives pieced together evidence surrounding what prosecutors described as gang-related retaliation that spilled into a crowd filled with innocent teenagers.
Five people were eventually charged. Demetrius O'Neal received two life sentences earlier this year.
Kierra Russ is serving life in prison after prosecutors said she acted as a lookout.
Don Dontrill Loggins and Tajze Battle accepted plea agreements resulting in 15- and 25-year sentences, respectively.
Derrick Leon Church remains awaiting trial.
For the victims' families, accountability mattered.
But justice never erased grief.
For years after Sean's death, Dsean struggled under the weight of losing not only his younger brother but also his closest friend.
They had grown up with little.
Sometimes they split a single McChicken because that was all the family could afford.
Sean wasn't just family.
"So all I had was him," Dsean said.
The loss could have sent him down a different path.
Instead, he chose another direction.
Today, basketball has become the vehicle through which he honors Sean's memory.
His free "Do It for Sean" basketball camp gives children opportunities he never had.
Professional trainers volunteer their time.
Kids receive meals.
Families pay nothing.
Outside the gym, Dsean also organizes community Thanksgiving events, gives away turkeys, school supplies and clothing, and helps families facing financial hardship.
"If they're hungry," he said, "we'll go buy groceries."
He says helping others heals a part of him that never recovered.
Across Lee County, Stef'an Strawder's name continues to inspire young athletes.
The annual Stef'an Strawder Memorial Showcase has become one of Southwest Florida's premier basketball events, helping high school players gain exposure from college recruiters.
Originally created to help Stef'an earn recruiting opportunities before he was killed, the showcase now serves as a tribute to his life.
His family also continues expanding the Stef'an Strawder "A Mother's Love" Foundation, supporting young people and families affected by violence while awarding scholarships in his honor.
His uncle says the work ensures people remember far more than the tragedy.
They remember the young man who always believed his team could win.
The player who lifted others around him. The teenager whose smile left an impression on everyone he met.
Ten years have passed. The Club Blu building has changed ownership.
The parking lot where shell casings once littered the ground now serves another business. But for the families of Sean Archilles and Stef'an Strawder, time has not erased July 25, 2016.
Dsean still stops beneath his brother's jersey every time he enters the gym.
Stef'an's mother still keeps a room dedicated to her son inside her home, filled with trophies, shoes and photographs.
Grief remains. So does purpose.
Their missions are different, but their message is the same: if tragedy cannot be undone, it can still become the reason another child finds hope.
The basketballs still bounce.
The camps continue.
Scholarships are awarded.
Lives are changed.
And through every child they help, two teenagers whose futures were stolen continue shaping the future of Southwest Florida.
