Dwayne G. Trice, 40, a Black man, died on December 25, 2013, in St. Louis, Missouri, leaving behind a paper trail that feels more like a quiet absence than a headline. The public-facing record is spare: a simple obituary notice that anchors him in time—born December 13, 1973, gone on Christmas Day—and places the next moments in the hands of family and friends who gathered soon after.
His services were held on January 3, 2014, at John L. Ziegenhein & Sons South County on Lemay Ferry Road, with a visitation followed by a funeral service the same afternoon. The listing reads like a set of coordinates for grief—dates, times, and an address—without a public explanation for what happened in the hours leading up to his death.
Beyond that memorial notice, another fragment appears in public records: a St. Louis County booking entry for “Trice, Dwayne G,” tied to a 2006 trespass charge that later shows as closed, with a disposition reflecting a short jail term and suspended sentence conditions. It’s the kind of record that says little about a life, only that at some point he intersected with the system and then moved on—until he didn’t.
As for the questions that usually follow a suspicious or violent death—who did it, who was arrested, whether anyone was charged, tried, or convicted—those answers don’t appear in the publicly available sources reviewed here. The surviving public documents identify his death date and the arrangements that followed, but they do not name a suspect, describe an investigation, or report an arrest connected to his passing.
