He spent decades as the familiar face you recognized instantly but couldn’t always name, the steady presence in films that defined entire eras. From The Bodyguard to Night at the Museum and New Jack City, Bill Cobbs brought a rare warmth and gravity to every role, often stealing scenes without raising his voice. Away from the cameras, he had just marked a profound milestone: his 90th birthday, surrounded by the people he cherished most.
Days later, he died peacefully at home in California, his passing confirmed not by a studio press release, but by his brother Thomas, a pastor, in a simple, aching Facebook post. There were no theatrics, no spectacle—just a gentle exit from a world he had helped entertain for generations. In that quiet departure, his legacy feels even larger, a reminder that some of the greatest performances happen far from the spotlight.
