Tanya Roberts was one of the sexiest and funniest actresses of her time, dazzling audiences with her stunning beauty and talent in That ’70s Show and Charlie’s Angels.
Tragically, her unexpected passing was marked by confusion, as her boyfriend mistakenly announced her death , adding a bizarre twist to the loss of this vibrant star.
Before we dive into the bizarre circumstances surrounding Tanya Roberts’ passing, let’s take a moment to celebrate her incredible contributions to the screen.
In a world where her legacy seems somewhat overlooked today, a closer look at her impressive career reveals just how unforgettable she truly was. And I’m sure she created cherished memories for many of you reading this.
Running away from home
Born Victoria Leigh Blum in 1949, Tanya Roberts grew up in the gritty Bronx of New York City. The little girl with ice-blue eyes lived in a poor old house with her mother and big sisters. Despite her modest life, Roberts had big dreams of wearing beautiful clothes, riding horses, living in a mansion, and shopping in limousines. Most of all, she wanted to be a star in Hollywood.
At just 15 years old, she took a bold step and ran away to chase her dreams. This was after her family had moved to Toronto, where a tragic event would lead Roberts to distance herself from them. One day, shortly after her father tragically passed away, Tanya felt the walls closing in on her.
In that moment, she decided to leave home. After a heated argument with her mother, Roberts packed her bags and moved to a place in the Village, a neighborhood in Toronto. She supported herself by selling dance lessons to ”old guys”, who lusted after her body.
It wasn’t long before she met another boy, Colin, who had also dropped out of school. She fell head over heels for him.
“It just happened. A stupid, spontaneous thing. Colin was two years older than me, a Canadian, a dropout, doing nothing. It was a love affair that turned into hatred. We never were friends. We didn’t get along at all. But I loved him, you know. I was butterflies. I’d look at him and gasp, ‘Oh my God!’ I responded to the palpitations of the heart.”
Married in secret
The couple was together for seven months and married in secret. They moved to New York together, but then Colin’s mother intervened, annulling the marriage. Roberts and Colin were far too young and hadn’t received their parents’ consent.
Roberts never told her mother about the marriage; she didn’t want to shock her. Soon after, the relationship with Colin ended, but another man entered Roberts’s life— one who would change her whole life.
As Tanya Roberts pursued her acting dreams in New York, she met Barry Roberts while waiting in line for a movie. He was a truck driver earning $30 a week, and he quickly became her next great love.
It was actually Tanya who proposed to Barry in a subway station, and they quickly tied the knot in 1973. Her husband had originally set his sights on becoming a psychologist but soon dropped out of his studies to write scripts for various TV networks.
The couple moved to Hollywood, determined to lead as normal a life as possible.
”You know you’ve got the right guy when you can sit at home with him Saturday night, just you and him and pizza,” Tanya shared in 1980.
For most of their lives, Tanya and Barry lived peacefully and happily, tucked away in the serene and private surroundings of their secluded home in the Hollywood Hills.
“Living here is like being in the country, but civilization isn’t far away when I need it,” Tanya exclusively shared with Closer Weekly in 2015. “It’s the house I’d always dreamed of.”
Spell on Charlie’s Angels
Tanya Roberts’ upbringing on the streets of Bronx served her well when she landed the role of the streetwise Julie Roberts in Charlie’s Angels. Before that, she had already made a name for herself as a model in television ads and took on serious roles in off-Broadway productions like Picnic and Antigone.
However, it was in the summer of 1980 that the world truly took notice of her.
Tanya was chosen from over 2,000 candidates to replace Shelley Hack in the beloved detective series Charlie’s Angels, which was struggling to attract viewers.
The producers hoped that the vibrant 26-year-old would inject new life into the show alongside her co-stars, Jaclyn Smith, the last original ‘Angel,’ and Cheryl Ladd. With her charisma and talent, Tanya was determined to help turn the series around.
”I think there’s a lot of enthusiasm on the set. We are a real team. It’s very important for us to get along because it shows in our work. I think it’s hard do continually make a classy show every week for five years with three girls. It’s not Shakespeare but I think the public looks forward to seeing something new every week,” Roberts told The Daily Herald-Tribune in 1981.
Unfortunately, despite her efforts, Roberts — who described herself as a ‘workaholic’— couldn’t revive the series, and Charlie’s Angels was canceled in 1981.
However, her talent and dedication led to new opportunities in her career.
Nominated for Golden Raspberry Award
After Charlie’s Angels, Robert’s starred in a string of films that gained cult status, including The Beastmaster (1982), Sheena: Queen of the Jungle (1984), Body Slam (1987), and Night Eyes (1990).
Most people, however, associate her with her iconic roles as Stacey Sutton in the 1985 James Bond film A View to a Kill and as Midge Pinciotti on That ’70s Show, where she captivated audiences from 1998 to 2004.
In A View to a Kill, Tanya Roberts starred alongside Roger Moore, and the film became a massive box office success. However, critics weren’t entirely convinced; in retrospect, Moore himself expressed disappointment, stating that it was his worst Bond film due to its excessive blood and violence.
At 57, the Hollywood legend faced criticism for being too old for the role, and he even quipped about the age gap, revealing that he was mortified to discover he was older than Roberts’ mother. In a December 2007 interview, he humorously remarked, ”I was only about four hundred years too old for the part.”
Tanya, too, faced her share of criticism after her Bond debut. Interestingly, she wasn’t the original choice for the role. Producers had initially hoped to cast Priscilla Presley, but she was tied up with her contract for Dallas. They even considered former Bond girl Barbara Bach before ultimately selecting Tanya Roberts. Despite her efforts, she was nominated for a Golden Raspberry Award for Worst Actress, although she lost the dubious honor to Linda Blair, who appeared in Night Patrol.
Losing her husband
For the younger generation, many recognize Tanya Roberts from her role as Midge Pinciotti on the beloved sitcom That ’70s Show. She was a cherished presence on the show but had to leave after the third season.
The reason? Her husband, Barry, had become seriously ill, and she wanted to be there for him. Tragically, Barry died at the age of 60 after a long four-and-a-half-year battle with encephalitis, a condition that causes inflammation of the brain tissue, leading to personality changes, seizures, and weakness.
Tanya and Barry stood by each other from their marriage in 1973 until his passing in 2006. The couple never had any children.
Mysterious death
After the heartbreaking loss of her husband Barry in 2006, Tanya Roberts found love again with Lance O’Brien. The two met while working for Tahiti Village, a Las Vegas resort — Tanya as a spokesmodel. They spent 18 years together, seemingly inseparable, but their world took a tragic turn in December 2020.
At 71, Tanya was still vibrant and full of life, known for her daily hikes up the Hollywood Hills. Described as ”healthy as a horse,” there was no indication of any serious health issues. However, just before Christmas, Tanya began experiencing lower intestinal pain and difficulty breathing.
These symptoms surfaced during one of her hikes, and though she initially thought it might be COVID-19. Early the next morning, she collapsed, unable to get up, and was rushed to Cedars-Sinai Hospital.
Doctors determined Tanya had developed a severe urinary tract infection that had progressed to sepsis. The infection quickly spread to her liver, kidneys, and gallbladder, ultimately leading to multi-organ failure.
Tubes up her nose
“She was talking when I called 911. Next thing I know, she’s in intensive care on oxygen and she’s extremely sick,” O’Brien shared with the Daily Mail.
When O’Brien was finally allowed to see her, Tanya was barely conscious, kept alive by a ventilator. The iconic actress, who had once graced screens as a glamorous star, could only blink in response to her partner’s presence.
”When she saw me and I was there, I saw her eyes open,” he said. “I felt good. I said, ‘Hey, her eyes are opening. Her eyes are opening.’ They told me that’s just a reflex,” O’Brien told Inside Edition.
Sadly, Tanya’s final days were both chaotic and heartbreaking.
O’Brien expressed his frustration with the hospital’s handling of Tanya’s care, stating, “She had tubes up her nose and throat, and they kept calling her Victoria —she hasn’t been called that since she was a teenager. It was so busy, I can’t begin to tell you what an awful, terrible experience it was.”
“I think COVID played a big part in it,” O’Brien added. “If you called the hospital, it sounded like something out of [sitcom] M.A.S.H.”
Cause of death
Tanya’s condition worsened, and on January 3, 2021, she was taken off life support. The beloved star passed away on January 4.
However, the aftermath of her death was even more chaotic. The news of Tanya’s passing was initially announced prematurely by her publicist, leading to confusion.
In a bizarre twist, O’Brien learned she was still alive during a live interview with Inside Edition.
“Now, you’re telling me she’s alive?” O’Brien exclaimed, answering a phone call from the hospital mid-interview. Crying, he added, “The hospital is telling me she is alive. They are calling me from the ICU team.”
Eventually, all the confusion cleared up, and it became evident that Tanya Roberts had indeed passed away. However, the mix-ups didn’t stop there – several sources incorrectly reported her age as 65 at the time of her death. Despite the fact that she was actually 71, some outlets still haven’t corrected this mistake, even three years later.
Her last will
The handwritten note left behind by Tanya Roberts offered a hauntingly intimate and bittersweet glimpse into her final thoughts. According to Fox News, Roberts left her entire estate, valued at over $3 million, to her longtime partner, Lance O’Brien. She signed the note using both her Hollywood name, Tanya Roberts, and her birth name, Victoria Blum.
“I have no reason to live,” Tanya wrote, and she also made it clear that none of her estate would go to her sister, Barbara Leary, or her nephew, Zack Leary.
Instead, Roberts left everything to O’Brien, though the letter suggests their relationship may not have been as loving as it seemed to the public.
”I want to leave my house … and all its belongings to my best friend Lance O’Brien – I also leave my two dogs and my Pension Plan check to Lance O’Brien,” the actress penned, as captured in images obtained by Page Six.
Perhaps the most heartbreaking part of the note comes when she acknowledged the disconnect in their relationship. ”I know you don’t love me but you have been a true friend & for that I’m [grateful],” she wrote. ”Have a good life & don’t blame this on yourself. I was always [too] sensitive to live in this world.”
Behind the face
Tanya Roberts’ final chapter may have been marked by sorrow and confusion, but it’s important to remember the light she brought into the world.
When you take a moment to look back at old photos of her — whether she’s on set, starring in her iconic roles, or even candid behind-the-scenes shots — a picture emerges of a woman who was not only stunningly beautiful but fiercely independent.
At just 15, she knew exactly what she wanted out of life. Becoming a Charlie’s Angel made her immortal in Hollywood’s eyes, but what really stood out was how she handled fame. While some may have expected her journey through stardom to come with heartbreak, bad roles, or failed marriages, Tanya took a different path.
She remained loyal to her husband, Barry Roberts, staying by his side through illness and even stepping away from her career to care for him. That kind of dedication and strength speaks volumes about the kind of woman she truly was.
Looking back at those early photos and moments reminds us of her grace, resilience, and the lasting impression she left on her fans and loved ones alike!
My Son Is Failing School After Moving in with His Dad — I Just Found Out What’s Really Going on in That House
After her teenage son moves in with his dad, Claire tries not to interfere, until his silence speaks louder than words. When she finds out what’s really happening in that house, she does what mothers do best: she shows up. This is a quiet, powerful story of rescue, resilience, and unconditional love.
When my 14-year-old son, Mason, asked to live with his dad after the divorce, I said yes.
Not because I wanted to (believe me, I would have preferred to have him with me). But because I didn’t want to stand in the way of a father and son trying to find each other again. I still had Mason with me on weekends and whenever he wanted. I just didn’t have him every single day.
A teenage boy sitting on a porch | Source: Midjourney
He’d missed Eddie. His goofy, fun-loving dad who made pancakes at midnight and wore backward baseball caps to soccer games. And Eddie seemed eager to step up. He wanted to be involved. More grounded.
So, I let Mason go.
I told myself that I was doing the right thing. That giving my son space wasn’t giving him up.
A man holding a stack of pancakes | Source: Midjourney
I didn’t expect it to break me quietly.
At first, Mason called often. He sent me silly selfies and updates about the pizza-and-movie nights with his dad. He sent me snapshots of half-burnt waffles and goofy grins.
I saved every photo. I rewatched every video time and time again. I missed him but I told myself this was good.
This was what he needed.
A stack of half-burnt waffles on a plate | Source: Midjourney
He sounded happy. Free. And I wanted to believe that meant he was okay.
But then the calls slowed down. The texts came less frequently. Conversations turned into one-word replies.
Then silence.
And then calls started coming from somewhere else. Mason’s teachers.
A concerned teacher | Source: Midjourney
One emailed about missing homework.
“He said he forgot, Claire. But it’s not like him.”
Another called during her lunch break, speaking in between bites of a sandwich, I assumed.
“He seems disconnected. Like he’s here but not really… Is everything okay at home?”
A sandwich on a plate | Source: Midjourney
And then the worst one, his math teacher.
“We caught him cheating during a quiz. That’s not typical behavior. I just thought you should know… he looked lost.”
That word stuck to me like static.
A side profile of a worried woman | Source: Midjourney
Lost.
Not rebellious. Not difficult. Just… lost.
It landed in my chest with a cold weight. Because that wasn’t my Mason. My boy had always been thoughtful, careful. The kind of kid who double-checked his work and blushed when he didn’t get an A.
I tried calling him that night. No answer. I left a voicemail.
A boy sitting at a table | Source: Midjourney
Hours passed. Nothing.
I sat on the edge of my bed, phone in hand, staring at the last photo he’d sent—him and Eddie holding up a burnt pizza like a joke.
But it didn’t feel funny anymore. Something was wrong. And the silence was screaming.
I called Eddie. Not accusatory, just concerned. My voice soft, neutral, trying to keep the peace.
A close up of a concerned woman | Source: Midjourney
I was careful, walking that tightrope divorced moms know too well, where one wrong word can be used as proof that you’re “controlling” or “dramatic.”
His response?
A sigh. A tired, dismissive sigh.
“He’s a teenager, Claire,” he said. “They get lazy from time to time. You’re overthinking again.”
A man talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
Overthinking. I hated that word.
It hit something in me. He used to say that when Mason was a baby and colicky. When I hadn’t slept in three nights and sat on the bathroom floor crying, holding our screaming newborn while Eddie snored through it.
“You worry too much,” he’d mumbled back then. “Relax. He’ll be fine.”
A crying baby | Source: Midjourney
And I believed him. I wanted to believe him. Because the alternative… that I was alone in the trenches… was just too heavy to carry.
Now here I was again.
Mason still crying, just silently this time. And Eddie still rolling over, pretending everything was okay.
But this time? My silence had consequences.
A woman holding her head | Source: Midjourney
This wasn’t a newborn with reflux. This was a boy unraveling quietly in another house.
And something deep inside me, the part of me that’s always known when Mason needed me, started to scream out.
One Thursday afternoon, I didn’t ask Eddie’s permission. I just drove to Mason’s school to fetch him. It was raining, a thin, steady drizzle that blurred the world into soft edges. The kind of weather that makes you feel like time is holding its breath.
A worried woman sitting in a car | Source: Midjourney
I parked where I knew he’d see me. Turned off the engine. Waited.
When the bell rang, kids poured out in clusters, laughing, yelling, dodging puddles. Then I saw him, alone, walking slowly, like each step cost my baby something.
He slid into the passenger seat without a word.
A pensive teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
And my heart shattered.
His hoodie clung to him. His shoes were soaked. His backpack hung off one shoulder like an afterthought. But it was his face that undid me.
Sunken eyes. Lips pale and cracked. Shoulders curved inward like he was trying to make himself disappear.
I handed him a granola bar with shaking hands. He stared at it but didn’t move.
A granola bar on a piece of paper | Source: Midjourney
The heater ticked, warming the space between us but not enough to thaw the ache in my chest.
Then, he whispered, barely above the sound of the rain on the windshield.
“I can’t sleep, Mom. I don’t know what to do…”
That was the moment I knew, my son was not okay.
An upset boy sitting in a car | Source: Midjourney
The words came slowly. Like he was holding them in with both hands, trying not to spill. Like if he let go, he might shatter.
Eddie had lost his job. Just weeks after Mason moved in. He didn’t tell anyone. Not Mason. Not me. He tried to keep the illusion alive, same routines, same smile, same tired jokes.
But behind the curtain, everything was falling apart.
An upset man sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
The fridge was almost always empty. Lights flickered constantly. Mason said he stopped using the microwave because it made a weird noise when it ran too long. Eddie was out most nights.
“Job interviews,” he claimed but Mason said that he didn’t always come back.
So my son made do. He had cereal for breakfast. Sometimes dry because there was no milk. He did laundry when he ran out of socks. He ate spoonfuls of peanut butter straight from the jar and called it lunch. Dried crackers for dinner.
A plate of crackers | Source: Midjourney
He did his homework in the dark, hoping that the Wi-Fi would hold long enough to submit assignments.
“I didn’t want you to think less of him,” Mason said. “Or me.”
That’s when the truth hit. He wasn’t lazy. He wasn’t rebelling.
He was drowning. And all the while, he was trying to keep his father afloat. Trying to hold up a house that was already caving in. Trying to protect two parents from breaking further.
A boy doing his homework | Source: Midjourney
And I hadn’t seen it.
Not because I didn’t care. But because I told myself staying out of it was respectful. That giving them space was the right thing.
But Mason didn’t need space. He needed someone to call him back home.
That night, I took him back with me. There were no court orders. No phone calls. Just instinct. He didn’t argue at all.
The exterior of a cozy home | Source: Midjourney
He slept for 14 hours straight. His face was relaxed, like his body was finally safe enough to let go.
The next morning, he sat at the kitchen table and asked if I still had that old robot mug. The one with the chipped handle.
I found it tucked in the back of the cupboard. He smiled into it and I stepped out of the room before he could see my eyes fill.
A sleeping boy | Source: Midjourney
“Mom?” he asked a bit later. “Can you make me something to eat?”
“How about a full breakfast plate?” I asked. “Bacon, eggs, sausages… the entire thing!”
He just smiled and nodded.
A breakfast plate | Source: Midjourney
I filed for a custody change quietly. I didn’t want to tear him apart. I didn’t want to tear either of them apart. I knew that my ex-husband was struggling too.
But I didn’t send Mason back. Not until there was trust again. Not until Mason felt like he had a choice. And a place where he could simply breathe and know that someone was holding the air steady for him.
It took time. But healing always does, doesn’t it?
At first, Mason barely spoke. He’d come home from school, drop his backpack by the door and drift to the couch like a ghost. He’d stare at the TV without really watching.
A boy sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
Some nights, he’d pick at his dinner like the food was too much for him to handle.
I didn’t push. I didn’t pepper him with questions or hover with worried eyes.
I just made the space soft. Predictable. Safe.
We started therapy. Gently. No pressure. I let him choose the schedule, the therapist, even the music on the car ride there. I told him we didn’t have to fix everything at once, we just had to keep showing up.
A smiling therapist sitting in her office | Source: Midjourney
And then, quietly, I started leaving notes on his bedroom door.
“Proud of you.”
“You’re doing better than you think, honey.”
“You don’t have to talk. I see you anyway.”
“There’s no one else like you.”
Colored Post-its stuck on a door | Source: Midjourney
For a while, they stayed untouched. I’d find them curled at the edges, the tape starting to yellow. But I left them up anyway.
Then one morning, I found a sticky note on my bedside table. Written in pencil with shaky handwriting.
“Thanks for seeing me. Even when I didn’t say anything. You’re the best, Mom.”
I sat on the edge of my bed and held that note like it was something sacred.
A pink Post-it pad on a nightstand | Source: Midjourney
A month in, Mason stood in the kitchen one afternoon, backpack slung over one shoulder.
“Hey, Mom? Would it be okay if I stayed after school for robotics club?”
I froze, mid-stir, the sauce bubbling quietly on the stove.
“Yeah,” I said, careful not to sound too excited. “Of course. That sounds great.”
Students at a robotics club | Source: Midjourney
His eyes flicked up, almost shyly.
“I think I want to start building stuff again.”
And I smiled because I knew exactly what that meant.
“Go, honey,” I said. “I’ll make some garlic bread and we can pop it in the oven when you get back.”
A tray of cheesy garlic bread | Source: Midjourney
Two weeks later, he brought home a model bridge made of popsicle sticks and hot glue. It collapsed the second he picked it up.
He stared at the wreckage for a second, then laughed. Like, really laughed.
“That’s okay,” he said. “I’ll build another one.”
God, I wanted to freeze that moment. Bottle it. Frame it. I wanted this moment to last forever. Because that was my boy.
A model bridge made of popsicle sticks | Source: Midjourney
The one who used to build LEGO cities and dream out loud about being an engineer. The one who’d been buried under silence, shame, and survival.
And now he was finding his way back. One stick, one smile, and one note at a time.
In May, I got an email from his teacher. End-of-year assembly.
LEGO blocks on a carpet | Source: Midjourney
“You’ll want to be there,” she wrote.
They called his name and my hands started shaking.
“Most Resilient Student!”
He walked to the stage, not rushed or embarrassed. He stood tall and proud. He paused, scanned the crowd, and smiled.
A smiling boy standing on a stage | Source: Midjourney
One hand lifted toward me, the other toward Eddie, sitting quietly in the back row, tears shining.
That one gesture said everything we hadn’t been able to say. We were all in this together. Healing.
Eddie still calls. Sometimes it’s short, just a quick, “How was school?” or “You still into that robot stuff, son?”
Sometimes they talk about movies they used to watch together. Sometimes there are awkward silences. But Mason always picks up.
A close up of a smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
It’s not perfect. But it’s something.
Mason lives with me full-time now. His room is messy again, in the good way. The alive way. Clothes draped over his chair. Music too loud. Cups mysteriously migrating to the bathroom sink.
I find little notes he writes to himself taped to the wall above his desk.
A messy room | Source: Midjourney
Things like:
“Remember to breathe.”
“One step at a time.”
“You’re not alone, Mase.”
He teases me about an ancient phone and greying hair. He complains about the asparagus I give him with his grilled fish. He tries to talk me into letting him dye his hair green.
Grilled fish and asparagus on a plate | Source: Midjourney
And when he walks past me in the kitchen and asks for help, I stop what I’m doing and do it.
Not because I have all the answers. But because he asked. Because he trusts me enough to ask. And that matters more than any fix.
I’ve forgiven myself for not seeing it sooner. I understand now that silence isn’t peace. That distance isn’t always respect.
A happy teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
Sometimes, love is loud. Sometimes, it’s showing up uninvited. Sometimes, it’s saying, I know you didn’t call but I’m here anyway.
Mason didn’t need freedom. He needed rescue. And I’ll never regret reaching for him when he was slipping under.
Because that’s what moms do. We dive in. We hold tight. And we don’t let go until the breathing steadies, the eyes open and the light comes back.
A smiling woman sitting on a porch | Source: Midjourney
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