After being diagnosed with breast cancer in 2015, Shannen Doherty, who was well-known for her performances on the immensely successful programs “Beverly Hills, 90210” and the witchcraft fantasy “Charmed,” passed away. 53 was her age.
Publicist Leslie Sloane issued a statement on behalf of actress Shannen Doherty, saying, “It is with a heavy heart that I confirm the passing of actress, Shannen Doherty.” After battling illness for many years, she lost her struggle on Saturday, July 13. With her dog, Bowie, at her side, the loving daughter, sister, aunt, and friend was surrounded by those she loved. In order for the family to grieve in peace, they kindly request privacy at this time.
In 1990, Doherty became well-known as the youthful brunette Brenda Walsh on the Fox sitcom “Beverly Hills, 90210.” The Walshes, who had recently moved from Minnesota to Beverly Hills with her twin brother Brandon (Jason Priestly), were the quintessential out-of-place family, always in awe of the antics of the L.A. rich kids.
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The storyline in the first season where Brenda contemplates losing her virginity caused controversy because of the romance between Brenda and Dylan, played by Luke Perry. It was also widely reported when Dylan and Jennie Garth’s character Kelly broke up, and the show was hailed for being the first to tackle sensitive subjects like racism and drug misuse.
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The program was a huge smash, and along with its popularity, the cast—including the teenage Doherty—came under intense scrutiny and rumors. Even though Kelly, played by Garth, was first seen as the less likeable character on the program, Brenda quickly gained popularity and became the cast member that everyone loved to despise. The media referred to her as a diva, and there was even a newsletter published before the internet called “I Hate Brenda.” Before departing the show at the conclusion of season four, Doherty made 111 appearances. There were rumors that she had issues with other cast members, especially Garth.
Everyone had matured by the time the program was revived twice more, and Doherty reappeared as Brenda in the 2008 revival of “90210” and the 2019 reincarnation of “BH90210.”
Following her turbulent exit from “Beverly Hills, 90210,” Doherty established herself in the supernatural thriller “Charmed,” which centers on three sisters who come to terms with their supernatural identity and realize they must band together to battle evil.She costarred with Alyssa Milano and Holly Marie Combs as Prue Halliwell, the eldest of the three sisters. She helmed three episodes of the show in 2000 and 2001: “Be Careful What You Witch For,” “The Good, The Bad, and The Cursed,” and “All Hell Breaks Loose,” which was her final appearance. When she departed the show at the conclusion of the third season, her role was eliminated.
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Doherty was born in Memphis, Tennessee, but she and her family relocated to Los Angeles when she was young. At the age of ten, she landed a role on the television show “Father Murphy.” At the age of eleven, Michael Landon cast her as Jenny Wilder in “Little House on the Prairie” after noticing her in the series.
After that, Doherty costarred with Wilfred Brimley in a recurrent role on the family series “Our House.”
She starred in several feature films, including the teen classic “Heathers,” “Girls Just Want to Have Fun,” “Mallrats” directed by Kevin Smith, and “Jay and Silent Bob Strikes Back.”
She made appearances in a number of TV movies in addition to “North Shore” and “Riverdale,” among other shows.
She produced the reality show “Breaking Up With Shannen Doherty” in 2006, in which she assisted individuals in dangerous relationships who wished to end their relationship but were unable to do so on their own. She then made an appearance in “Off the Map With Shannen and Holly,” another reality show.
Doherty was given a breast cancer diagnosis in February 2015, and she declared herself to be in remission in 2017. However, the cancer has spread and come back by 2019. She kept on working, landing parts in TV films such as “List of a Lifetime” and “Dying to Belong.” In addition, Doherty was the host of the well-liked podcast “Let’s Be Clear With Shannen Doherty,” where she openly talked about her experiences with breast cancer and her career.
She claimed to have been having radiation treatment in June 2023 for cancer that had progressed to her brain.
She temporarily wed poker player Rick Salomon and Ashley Hamilton, the son of George Hamilton. In 2011, she wed photographer Kurt Iswarienko. In 2023, they filed for divorce.
Sassy Neighbor Drove All the Tenants Crazy at Night – So We Found a Way to Give Her a Taste of Her Own Medicine
When Michelle moved in, she refused to follow one simple rule: bring your key. Instead, she pounded on my window at all hours, demanding to be let in. After countless sleepless nights, the other tenants and I came up with a plan to give her a taste of her own medicine.
I’ve always been a stickler for rules. Call me boring, but there’s something comforting about knowing where you stand. That’s why I loved living in our little apartment block on Maple Street.
A woman and her dog | Source: Midjourney
We had one golden rule: after 8 p.m., you always carry your key. Simple, right? Well, it was until Hurricane Michelle blew into our lives.
The day Michelle moved in, I should’ve known trouble was brewing. I was collecting my mail when she strutted up the path, wild red hair flying, and enormous sunglasses perched on her nose despite the cloudy day.
“Hey, new neighbors!” she called out, voice loud enough to wake the dead. “I’m Michelle! Who’s gonna help me with these boxes?”
A woman waving | Source: Midjourney
I exchanged glances with Matt from 2B. He shrugged, and we both headed out to lend a hand. As we lugged boxes up the stairs, Michelle chattered away.
“This place is so cute! It’s like, totally retro. I can’t wait to spice things up around here!” She winked at Matt, who nearly dropped a box labeled “PARTY SUPPLIES.”
“Yeah, well,” I puffed, struggling with what felt like a crate of bricks, “we like it quiet around here. Especially after 8.”
Michelle laughed, a sound like tinkling glass.
A laughing woman | Source: Midjourney
“Oh honey, the night’s just getting started at 8!” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “You’ll see, I’ll breathe some life into this place.”
I should’ve taken that as the warning it was.
For the first week, things were okay. Sure, Michelle’s music was a bit loud, and yeah, she had a habit of clattering up and down the stairs at all hours. But it wasn’t until the second Friday night that the real trouble started.
A woman in her home | Source: Midjourney
It was just past midnight when the first thump-thump-thump echoed through my apartment. My dog, Biscuit, lifted his head with a whine. I tried to ignore it, burying my face in my pillow. But then came the buzzing. It was incessant, like an angry hornet.
Groaning, I stumbled to the intercom. “Hello?”
“Heeeeey!” Michelle’s voice, slightly slurred, crackled through the speaker. “It’s me! I forgot my key. Can you let me in?”
An intercom entry phone | Source: Pexels
I sighed, pressing the button to unlock the main door. My apartment was on the ground level so I opened my door to remind her about the key rule.
“Oh my god, you’re a lifesaver!” Michelle gushed, her breath reeking of tequila. “I was gonna be stuck out there all night!”
“Michelle,” I started, trying to keep my voice level, “remember the rule about always carrying your key after 8?”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Pffft, rules are made to be broken, right? Besides, you’re right here! It’s no problem for you to let me in.”
A laughing woman | Source: Midjourney
“Well, actually…”
But there was no point in saying anything more. Michelle had already clattered up the stairs and disappeared, leaving me standing in the foyer, fuming.
I wish I could say that was a one-time thing. But over the next few weeks, it became a nightly occurrence.
Sometimes she’d bang on windows, other times she’d ring every buzzer in the building until someone let her in.
A woman in front of a staircase | Source: Pexels
It didn’t matter if it was 10 p.m. or 3 a.m. — Michelle seemed to operate in her own time zone.
One particularly frustrating night, I was jolted awake by a rhythmic tapping on my bedroom window. Groaning, I glanced at my alarm clock: 2:37 a.m.
“Adrienne! Adrieeeeenne! Wake up, sleepyhead!”
That was the last straw for Biscuit, who ran over to the window and started yapping. I stumbled out of bed. Pulling back the curtain, I was met with Michelle’s grinning face, illuminated by the streetlight.
A woman at a window | Source: Pexels
“Michelle!” I hissed, sliding the window open. “What are you doing?”
She giggled, the sound grating on my already frayed nerves. “I forgot my key, Addy. Be a pal and buzz me in? I’ve been tapping at your window for ages already.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache coming on. “Michelle, this has got to stop. You can’t keep doing this. What if I hadn’t been home?”
She shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the whole situation. “Then I would’ve buzzed Matt. Or Tiffany. Someone’s always home, right?”
A woman talking to someone | Source: Midjourney
The whole building was at its wit’s end. One day, Tiffany from 3A cornered me in the laundry room, dark circles under her eyes.
“Adrienne, we’ve got to do something about Michelle. I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in weeks!”
I nodded, feeling the weight of exhaustion myself. “I know, Tiff. I’ve tried talking to her, but she just laughs it off.”
A woman in a laundry room | Source: Pexels
Matt joined us, his usually neat hair a mess. “I called the landlord,” he said, voice low. “Guess what? Michelle’s his niece. He said, and I quote, ‘She’s just having a bit of fun. You all need to lighten up.’”
“Lighten up?” Tiffany hissed. “I’ll show him ‘lighten up’ when I fall asleep at work and get fired!”
That’s when Riley from 4C spoke up. I hadn’t even noticed her lurking by the dryers.
“You know,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eye, “if Michelle won’t listen to reason, maybe we need to speak her language.”
A woman in a laundry room | Source: Pexels
We all leaned in closer as Riley outlined her plan. It was petty, sure. Childish, even. But after weeks of sleepless nights and Michelle’s careless laughter ringing in our ears, it felt like sweet justice.
The next night, we put our plan into action.
Michelle stumbled home around 1 a.m., and as usual, she started banging on windows and buzzing apartments. Someone let her in, as usual, and I listened as she breezed upstairs.
We struck an hour later.
A woman glancing over her shoulder | Source: Midjourney
I went outside and kept buzzing her apartment for a full ten minutes. Eventually, her voice crackled over the speaker.
“Who is this, and what the hell is wrong with you?”
“Hey, Michelle! It’s me, Adrienne. I took Biscuit out and forgot my key. Be a pal and buzz me in?”
“Are you serious? It’s 1 a.m.!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, but I always do it for you, so what’s the problem?”
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
I heard her mutter something, but she let me in. I quickly texted Tiffany and rushed upstairs for the next part. I arrived at Michelle’s floor just as a series of sharp knocks echoed down the hall.
“Michelle? Michelle? Are you home?” Tiffany called out as she knocked on the door.
“Tiff? What are you doing?” Michelle groaned.
“Oh, I just wanted to check if somebody had let you in. Good night!”
A woman knocking on a door | Source: Pexels
I leaned against the wall, stifling my giggles. But we weren’t done. Over the next few days, we kept up our campaign. If Michelle forgot her key, we made sure she couldn’t sleep. It was petty, yes, but it felt so good.
By day five, Michelle was a wreck. Her hair was a tangled mess, her designer clothes rumpled, and dark circles ringed her bloodshot eyes. As she trudged up the stairs, I almost felt bad. Almost.
A tired-looking woman | Source: Pexels
“Please,” she croaked, her voice hoarse from yelling, “can you guys stop this? I get it, okay? Just stop waking me up every night!”
Tiffany, who’d come out to watch the show, couldn’t resist a jab. “Oh, so you do understand how annoying it is. Funny, you didn’t seem to care when you were doing it to us.”
Michelle’s lower lip trembled, and for a moment, I thought she might cry. But then she squared her shoulders. “Fine. I’m sorry, alright? I’ll start bringing my key. Just… please let me sleep.”
A woman glancing to one side | Source: Pexels
We all exchanged glances. It wasn’t a grand apology, but it was something. Slowly, we nodded.
“Okay, Michelle,” I said, trying to keep the triumph out of my voice. “We’ll stop. But remember—”
“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled, fishing in her purse. “Always carry my key after 8. I got it.”
The next evening, I tensed as I heard Michelle’s distinctive clatter on the stairs. But to my surprise, there was no banging, no buzzing. Just the soft click of a key in a lock.
Keys in a door | Source: Pexels
I couldn’t help but smile to myself. “Funny,” I murmured, settling back on my couch, “how peace always comes when everyone finally starts playing by the rules.”
Biscuit wagged his tail in agreement, and I scratched behind his ears. Our little apartment block was back to normal — or as normal as it could be with Hurricane Michelle living upstairs. But hey, at least now she had the key to fitting in.
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