On the evening of August 5, Juju Nadeau was walking with friends along Back Cove Trail, a wooded path wedged between the water and Interstate 295 in Portland, Maine. As an avid urban explorer, the 21-year-old wanted to show her gaggle of friends one of the pieces of graffiti under Turkey’s Bridge, which her loved ones tell Them was one of her favorite spots to visit.But what was supposed to be a fun adventure ended abruptly after a man on a bicycle, later identified by police as Glen Rodney, 58, allegedly approached the group and began wielding a knife, per court documents. The same documents obtained by The Portland Press Herald alleged that Rodney fatally stabbed Nadeau in the chest after chasing her and her friends. According to a GoFundMe, Liz McGehee, one of Nadeau’s close friends who was there at the time, tried to pull the assailant off of her and called 911. Nadeau died later at Maine Medical Center.In the aftermath, initial media coverage misgendered and deadnamed Nadeau, a common macroaggression trans people face after becoming the victim of a violent crime. But for Kasper DeWitt, Juju’s partner of two years, she was so much more than a name in a headline. To her loved ones, DeWitt says, Nadeau lit up the world. She was “divine.”“It sounds cliche but she’s the most loving person,” DeWitt tells Them. “She was an angel sent here to make things better — and she did.” Courtesy of Kasper DeWitt Before meeting Nadeau during the summer of 2024, DeWitt, who uses they/she pronouns, said they had spent hours playing video games and in online spaces with other furries, but tells Them they had never really engaged in the real-life side of the subculture, like attending conventions. That all changed once she and Nadeau started dating. Though furries are a famously online subculture, Nadeau valued meeting her community in real life, partying, and making friends everywhere she went, especially at furry cons across New England.“She really had this