Born in Honolulu, Hawaii, Wily began his professional career as an MMA fighter and sumo wrestler before deciding to pursue acting.
At the age of 56, Taylor Wily, best known for his parts in Magnum P.I. and Hawaii Five-0, passed away.
On Thursday, June 20, Hawaiian artist and celebrity Lina Girl Langi, who had been close friends with Wily and his family, revealed the news of his passing on her lifestyle program Island Life Live.
Langi said on the show, “It is with a heavy heart that I share the news of the passing of a Hawaii celebrity who was also a family friend.” “Taylor Wily, actor, MMA fighter, and former wrestler, passed away in Hurricane, Utah, today.”
Davey D, her co-host, called Wily one of the “kindest” and “gentlest souls.”
Langi did not reveal Willy’s cause of death. She did point out that despite having an intimidating build, the actor was not scary in real life.
She said, “He would appear physically menacing until you simply folded into an embrace, and that was that.” “My heart is shattered.”
According to his IMDb page, Wily began his career as a sumo wrestler under the name “Takamishu” after being born in Honolulu, Hawaii in 1968. He won his first fourteen matches, according to TV Insider, and went on to become the first wrestler not born in the United States to win the title in the third-tier Makushita division.
He then participated in the inaugural Ultimate Fighting Championship event in 2000, losing to fellow fighter Gerard Gordeau and making history as the first competitor to lose in a UFC brawl.
Wily eventually made the transition to acting, starting out in the 1980s and early 2000s with background parts in television series like North Shore, One West, and the original Magnum P.I.
After that, he starred in the movies Radical and Forgetting Sarah Marshall, and on Hawaii Five-0, he was cast as Kamekona, a series regular. In total, 171 episodes of the 2010–2020 season of the show included him. In the Magnum P.I. reboot, he also played the same character again.
On social media, a number of Wily’s acquaintances and admirers offered their condolences to his wife Halona Wily and the rest of his family. Executive producer Peter Lenkov of Magnum P.I. and Hawaii Five-0 also honored the star on Instagram by posting a picture of the two of them together on set.
“I’m inconsolable. Brokenhearted. In a few days, I’ll share some in-depth feelings. Just too difficult at this time,” he wrote.
On Facebook, former Hawaii news reporter Angela Keen wrote that Wily was always “accessible and personable” and had frequently visited kids at Shriners Children’s Hawaii Hospital.
She remarked, “You were the very definition of a gentle giant.” “Taylor Wily, I can’t believe you’re gone.”
After posting a picture of the two, Dennis Chun, who portrayed Sgt. Duke Lukela in the Hawaii Five-0 revival, added, “Laura and I are heart broken to learn of Taylor Wily’s passing.” He was a giant of a man in addition to being a gifted artist.
“Being in a scene with him was always such a joy because of his aloha and heart,” he continued. It was a privilege to work with him and have him as a friend. Taylor, get some rest. Hawaii and I cry this evening. Taylor, till we cross paths again, aloha.
I OPENED THE DOOR ON HALLOWEEN — I SAW A LITTLE GIRL IN THE DRESS MY MISSING HUSBAND HAD SEWN FOR OUR DAUGHTER.
The crisp autumn air held the familiar scent of woodsmoke and decaying leaves, a bittersweet reminder of Halloweens past. This year, the porch light flickered erratically, casting long, dancing shadows that mirrored the unease gnawing at my heart. Carl, my husband, had vanished six months ago, leaving behind a void that no amount of pumpkin-spice lattes or spooky decorations could fill.
Halloween had always been our holiday. Carl, with his nimble fingers and love for theatrics, would craft elaborate costumes for our daughter, Emily. This year, I’d tried my best, piecing together a fairy princess outfit from store-bought materials. Emily, bless her heart, had pretended to be thrilled, but the absence of Carl’s handcrafted magic was palpable.
I sent Emily off with her friends, a pang of guilt mixed with a desperate need for her to experience some semblance of normalcy. Then, I settled in for the night, a bowl of candy beside me, the silence of the house amplified by the approaching darkness.
The first ring of the doorbell was a jolt, a sudden intrusion into my solitude. “Trick or treat!” a chorus of small voices echoed. I opened the door, a forced smile plastered on my face.
And then, I froze.
Standing before me was a little girl, no older than Emily, dressed in a familiar outfit. A vibrant red coat, with a bouncy, midnight-blue cape, fastened with a silver clasp shaped like a crescent moon. It was the exact design Carl had created for Emily’s fifth Halloween. The same fabric, the same intricate stitching, the same whimsical details. My breath hitched.
“That’s a beautiful costume you have, sweetheart,” I managed, my voice trembling. “Where did you get it?”
The little girl beamed, her eyes sparkling with innocent pride. “My dad made it!”
The world tilted. It couldn’t be. It was impossible. Yet, the costume was undeniably Carl’s handiwork. A cold dread seeped into my bones, mingling with a flicker of desperate hope.
“Sweetheart, where’s your house?” I asked, kneeling down, trying to steady my voice. “I’d love to ask your dad how he made such a lovely costume.”
The girl pointed down the street, towards a row of dimly lit houses. “It’s the yellow one with the big oak tree.”
“Thank you, darling,” I said, handing her a handful of candy. “Have a happy Halloween.”
I closed the door, my heart pounding against my ribs. I couldn’t just let this go. I grabbed my keys, a trembling hand dialing Emily’s friend’s mother. “Can you keep Emily a little longer?” I asked, my voice strained. “I have to… run an errand.”
I drove down the street, the yellow house with the big oak tree looming in the darkness. The porch light was on, casting a warm glow on the Halloween decorations. I parked down the block, my hands clammy.
Taking a deep breath, I walked up the driveway. The doorbell chimed, a cheerful melody that felt grotesquely out of place.
The door opened, revealing a woman with tired eyes and a kind smile. “Trick or treaters already?” she asked, her voice warm.
“I’m sorry, I’m not here for candy,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “My name is Sarah. I saw your daughter’s costume. It… it looks like one my husband used to make.”
The woman’s smile faltered. “Oh, that? My husband made it. He’s very talented.”
“Could I… could I see him?” I asked, my voice cracking.
The woman hesitated, then stepped aside. “Of course. He’s in the garage.”
I followed her through the house, my footsteps echoing on the polished floor. The garage door was slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling out. I pushed it open.
And there he was.
Carl.
He was sitting at a workbench, surrounded by rolls of fabric and spools of thread. He looked different, thinner, his eyes shadowed. But it was him.
“Carl?” I whispered, my voice thick with tears.
He looked up, his eyes widening in shock. “Sarah?”
The woman, standing behind me, gasped. “You know her?”
“She’s… she’s my wife,” Carl said, his voice hoarse.
The woman’s face crumpled. “But… you told me…”
“I know,” Carl said, his voice filled with regret. “I’m so sorry.”
The story that unfolded was a tangled web of amnesia, guilt, and a desperate attempt to start over. Carl had been in a car accident six months ago, suffering a head injury that wiped his memory clean. He had wandered, lost and confused, until he found himself in this town, where the woman, a widow, had taken him in. They had fallen in love, built a life together, a life built on a lie.
He had no recollection of me, of Emily, of our life together. The costume, he explained, was a subconscious echo of his past, a skill he had retained without knowing why.
The woman, her heart broken, understood. She knew she couldn’t keep him. She knew he belonged with me, with Emily.
The reunion was bittersweet. Carl, a stranger in his own life, struggled to reconcile the man he was with the man he had become. Emily, though overjoyed to have her father back, was confused by his distant demeanor.
It was a long, arduous process, filled with tears, frustration, and tentative steps forward. We rebuilt our life, piece by piece, like Carl’s costumes, stitching together fragments of the past with the threads of the present.
Halloween, once a symbol of our lost happiness, became a symbol of our resilience. We learned that even in the darkest of times, hope can flicker like a porch light, guiding us home.
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