Major Takeaways:
The murders of Chantel Dean Mitchell and her daughter Na’Veha Alexander exposed deep wounds in Tulsa’s community and the lingering silence around domestic violence.
Marquis Taylor’s conviction brought a form of justice, but the emotional scars and community distrust remain.
“Tulsa Shadows” reflects the ongoing fight to give voice to victims whose stories are too often forgotten.
Tulsa Shadows: The Murder of Chantel Dean Mitchell and Na’Veha Alexander
Urban City True Crime Podcast. Tulsa Shadows. The murder of Chantelle Dean Mitchell and Naveha Alexander.
You’re tuned in to Urban City True Crime. We don’t dress it up. We tell it raw.
Real people. Real pain. Real stories that don’t always make the headlines, but they damn sure deserve to be told.
Tulsa, Oklahoma. A city with a past carved deep into black history. Home of Black Wall Street.
Pride. Resilience. Legacy.
But behind those bright murals and history books, there’s another side of Tulsa. One where the light don’t always reach. That’s where this story comes from.
The murder of Chantelle Dean Mitchell and her 16-year-old daughter, Naveha Alexander. Chantelle was the kind of woman who didn’t back down. She spoke her mind.
raised her kids. Handled her own. Naveha? She was just starting to figure out life.
Bright, bold, and full of that energy only a teenager could have. Then one morning, everything went quiet. Cops get a call.
Reports of shouting, maybe gunshots, out on East 56th Street North. They roll up to a small house. Nothing fancy.
But what they find inside, it’s brutal. Chantelle and Naveha. Both shot.
Execution style. No signs of a break-in. No robbery.
Just pure cold-blooded precision. Detectives knew right away. This wasn’t random.
This was personal. Word hit the block fast. Folks whispered names.
Old boyfriends. Bad breakups. Money owed.
Every rumor in the book. But nobody wanted to talk too loud. Because in Tulsa, talking too loud can get you hurt.
Police start pulling street cam footage. They catch a car creeping slow through the neighborhood, right around the time of the murders. Not stolen.
Not rented. Somebody local. Then a new name pops up.
Samantha Puckett. She wasn’t in the house. She was missing.
Turns out Chantelle had been worried about her. Said Samantha was mixed up with somebody dangerous. Now detectives got two mysteries.
A double murder and a missing woman. And the deeper they dig, the messier it gets. Then, weeks later, everything cracks open.
That same car from the cameras. They find it stashed on the west side. Inside, traces of gunpowder.
And a strand of hair that matches Naveja. The man behind the wheel? Marquise Taylor. North Tulsa.
Local name. Used to mess with Chantelle. Things went bad between them.
Detectives bring him in. He plays dumb. Says he don’t know nothing.
But after hours of grilling, his story falls apart. He finally says yeah. He went over to talk.
But Chantelle got loud. He says things went left. Then Naveja walked in.
She saw it happen. And he panicked. That’s when he pulled the trigger again.
Two lives gone. Just like that. Not over money.
Not over drugs. Just ego. Control.
The same poison that’s been tearing families apart for generations. When detectives ask about Samantha Puckett, Marquise shuts down again. Acts like he doesn’t know.
But weeks later, search crews find Samantha’s body out by the county line. Half buried in brush. Same weapon.
Same killer. And once again, the streets go quiet. See, what makes this story hit harder ain’t just the deaths.
It’s the silence after. Chantelle and Naveja didn’t get front-page treatment. They weren’t celebrities.
But they mattered. The neighborhood came out. Candles.
Balloons. Tears. Prayers.
And then, just like that, life went back to normal. Detectives did their job. Marquise Taylor, convicted, life in prison, no parole.
On paper, justice was served. But you and I both know, paper justice don’t heal real pain. Somewhere right now, another Chantelle is arguing with a man who won’t walk away.
Another Naveja is trying to make sense of grown folks’ mess. And another Samantha is disappearing while the world scrolls past her face. Tulsa’s skyline still shines at night.
But down in those neighborhoods, the air still feels heavy. And if you listen close enough, you can hear their names in the wind. Naveja Alexander.
Samantha Puckett. Three names. Three stories.
One city that still hasn’t healed. That’s why we tell these stories. Not for the shock, but for the truth.
Because when we stop talking about it, that’s when we start losing more of us. Urban City True Crime. We tell it like it is.
No sugar, no spin. Because if we don’t speak for our people, nobody will.
