NEW Marines Exchange Gunfire With Gang Members
U.S. Marines protecting the U.S. embassy in Haiti exchanged gunfire with suspected gang members last week, a Marine spokesman announced Sunday.Captain Steven J.
Keenan told Fox News that Marines supporting embassy operations came under fire from several suspected gang members outside the U.S. embassy complex in the Haitian capital of Port Au Prince on the evening of November 13. “U.S. Marines are committed to the safety and security of U.S. embassies worldwide and respond to all threats with professionalism and swift, disciplined action,” Keenan said.
No U.S. service members were injured as a result of the incident, according to a report from The Washington Post.
The long unstable Caribbean nation has largely suffered a government collapse in recent years, which began in earnest following the assassination
of President Jovenel Moïse in 2021. The assassination created a power vacuum that has led to several changes in heads of state and the loss of vast amounts of Haitian territory to organized gangs.
As of this report, gangs control about 90 percent of Port-au-Prince despite the deployment of Kenyan military personnel under a United Nations mandate to bolster Haiti’s security forces.
The ongoing issue with gangs in Haiti stems from a surge in organized criminal groups exploiting political instability since 2021, fueled by arms trafficking, corruption links to political elites, and economic collapse, leading to widespread violence including massacres, kidnappings, sexual assaults, child recruitment, and forced displacement
Over 200 gangs operate nationwide, with coalitions like Viv Ansanm (Living Together) coordinating attacks to expand influence, control illicit markets, and challenge state authority by establishing parallel governance in seized areas. Gangs have intensified operations in 2025, spreading from Port-au-Prince into rural departments like Artibonite and Centre, paralyzing commerce through roadblocks, exacerbating famine-like conditions for 5.7 million people.
Haiti has received substantial security assistance from outside nations to combat gangs, beginning with the UN-authorized Multinational Security Support (MSS) mission in 2024. Primarily lead by Kenyan forces, the UN mandate has received support from Jamaica, Bahamas, Belize, Guatemala, and El Salvador, while the U.S. has provided $25 million in aid for the MSS.
The November 13 incident is not the first time foreign diplomats and embassies have come under attack in Haiti. Earlier incidents include gangs targeting U.S. embassy vehicles in March and October 2024, leading to partial staff evacuations of non-essential personnel. A UN helicopter was also struck by gunfire in October 2024 as it was attempting to deliver food aid.
As a result of the violence, the European Union has evacuated all diplomatic staff, while the nation’s lone international airport has been closed due to numerous instances of gunfire targeting aircraft.
On my birthday, my sister smashed the cake straight into my face, laughing as she watched me fall backward, blood mixing with the frosting. Everyone said, “It’s just a joke.” But the next mo
On my birthday, my sister smashed the cake straight into my face, laughing as she watched me fall backward, blood mixing with the frosting. Everyone said, “It’s just a joke.”
But the next morning in the emergency room, the doctor studied my X-ray and immediately called 911—because what he saw… exposed a horrifying truth.
Part One: “It’s Just a Joke”
On my birthday, the room smelled like sugar and candles and cheap champagne. A pink cake sat in the center of the table, my name written across it in looping frosting. Everyone was laughing. Phones were out. Someone shouted for me to make a wish.
My sister stood closest to me.
She grinned, eyes bright with something that wasn’t kindness. Before I could even lean forward, her hands slammed the cake straight into my face.
The impact was harder than anyone expected.
I felt myself stumble backward, my heel catching on the rug. There was a sharp crack as my head hit the edge of the table, then the floor. For a split second, the room spun in white and pink. I tasted sugar—and then iron.
Blood mixed with frosting, dripping down my chin.
People screamed, then laughed nervously.
“Oh my God,” someone said, still chuckling. “It’s just a joke!”
My sister laughed the loudest. “Relax! You’re so dramatic.”
I tried to sit up. Pain exploded behind my eyes. My vision blurred, and the ceiling swayed like it was floating. Someone wiped my face with a napkin, smearing blood across my cheek.
“You’re fine,” my mother said quickly. “Don’t ruin the mood.”
I remember thinking how strange it was that my ears were ringing louder than the music.
I remember the taste of frosting as I swallowed blood.
I remember waking up hours later in my bed, alone, my head throbbing, my phone full of messages telling me not to be “too sensitive.”
By morning, I couldn’t lift my arm.
Part Two: The X-Ray That Changed Everything
The emergency room smelled like disinfectant and sleepless nights. The doctor asked how it happened. I hesitated, then said quietly, “I fell.”
He nodded, unconvinced, and ordered X-rays “just to be safe.”
I lay on the cold table staring at the ceiling, replaying the laughter over and over in my head. It’s just a joke. That sentence hurt almost as much as my skull.
When the doctor returned, he wasn’t smiling.
He stared at the image on the screen for a long time. Too long.
Then he left the room without a word.
Minutes later, he came back—with a nurse, a security officer, and his phone pressed to his ear.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I need emergency services. Immediately.”
My heart started pounding. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
He turned to me, his voice careful. “This isn’t a simple fall.”
He pointed to the X-ray. Even I could see it—fine fractures branching like cracks in glass, not just in my skull, but along my collarbone and ribs. Old fractures. Healed wrong. Layered.
“These injuries happened at different times,” he said gently. “Some weeks apart. Some months.”
I stared at the screen, my mouth dry.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered.
He met my eyes. “This pattern isn’t accidental. And the impact that brought you in today could have killed you.”
The word killed echoed in my ears.
“Who did this to you?” he asked softly.
I thought of my sister’s grin. My parents’ laughter. All the times I’d been shoved, tripped, “joked” into walls. All the times I’d been told I was clumsy. Sensitive. Overreacting.
My hands began to shake.
“I think…” My voice broke. “I think it was never a joke.”
Part Three: When Laughter Turns Into Sirens
The police arrived quietly. Calmly. Like this wasn’t the first time they’d seen something like me.
They didn’t accuse. They asked questions.
Who was there last night?
Who pushed you?
How often do you get hurt?
For the first time, I didn’t minimize. I didn’t protect anyone. I told the truth.
By evening, my phone was exploding.
My mother crying.
My father furious.
My sister screaming that I had “ruined everything.”
“You’re exaggerating!” she yelled over voicemail. “It was cake! Everyone saw it!”
Everyone had seen it.
That was the horrifying truth.
Everyone had seen it—and laughed.
The investigation didn’t take long. Videos surfaced. Old medical records were reviewed. Witnesses contradicted themselves. Patterns became impossible to ignore.
What started as a “birthday prank” became an assault case.
What they called humor was documented as violence.
I was moved to a different room that night, monitored closely, safe for the first time in years. As I lay there, ice wrapped around my head, I realized something terrifying and freeing all at once:
If that cake hadn’t been smashed into my face…
If I hadn’t fallen just right…
The truth might have stayed buried forever.
Sometimes it takes breaking something visible to expose what’s been shattered for years.
