Kevin Duncan’s final dinner at Disney Springs should have been a joyful celebration. Instead, it became a nightmare that ended his life and ignited a fierce legal battle over negligence, corporate priorities, and the cost of seconds in a choking emergency.

On the evening of June 7, 2025, the 42-year-old father from Ocala, Florida, sat down at The Boathouse — one of the most popular and highly reviewed restaurants in the bustling Disney Springs entertainment district. Accompanying him were his teenage daughter, members of her competitive dance team from Radar Dance Complex OCALA, and several parents and friends. The group had traveled to Orlando for a major national dance competition, and the previous day had been spent soaking up the magic of Magic Kingdom. Photos and videos shared by the dance studio captured smiling faces, laughter, and the unmistakable glow of anticipation.

The Boathouse, with its waterfront views, nautical décor, and reputation for excellent steaks and seafood, felt like the perfect place to relax after a long day. Duncan ordered a steak entrée — a classic choice at a restaurant frequently praised for its premium cuts and upscale ambiance. Conversation flowed easily. Plates arrived. Forks and knives clinked against fine china.

Then, in an instant, everything changed.

A single piece of steak lodged deep in Duncan’s throat, completely blocking his airway. He began choking violently. His hands flew to his neck in the universal choking gesture. His face reddened, then purpled. Panic erupted around the table.

Family members and friends immediately jumped up and began performing the Heimlich maneuver. They wrapped their arms around his midsection, thrusting upward repeatedly in the desperate hope of dislodging the obstruction. The technique, invented by Dr. Henry Heimlich more than fifty years earlier, has saved thousands of lives — but it is not always successful on the first, second, or even third attempt, especially with a large, tough piece of meat.

Meanwhile, restaurant staff stood nearby. Servers, hosts, and at least one manager witnessed the entire scene unfold. According to the wrongful death lawsuit later filed by Duncan’s family, employees clearly observed him “experiencing difficulty breathing or choking during the incident.” They saw the frantic attempts to save him. They saw his body slump as oxygen deprivation took hold.

Yet no one at The Boathouse immediately called 911.

Instead — and this is the heart of the explosive legal claim — staff members contacted security first.

The lawsuit alleges that The Boathouse maintained a “policy or practice” requiring employees to notify internal security personnel before dialing emergency services in medical emergencies. More than two critical minutes passed before a 911 call was finally placed. In the world of choking emergencies, two minutes is an eternity.

Medical science is brutally clear: once the airway is completely obstructed, a person can suffer irreversible brain damage after approximately four to six minutes without oxygen. Brain cells begin dying at a rate of nearly two million per minute. Cardiac arrest follows quickly. Every second counts.

By the time paramedics arrived, Kevin Duncan was in full cardiopulmonary arrest. He was rushed to a nearby hospital, placed on life support, and declared dead the following day, June 9, 2025.

He was forty-two years old.

The lawsuit, filed in Florida state court in early 2026, accuses The Boathouse and its parent company, Gibsons Restaurant Group, of gross negligence and wrongful death. The complaint is searing in its detail and its accusations.

Key allegations include:

Failure to provide immediate emergency medical assistance despite staff witnessing the choking event in real time.
Implementation and enforcement of an internal policy that delayed or prevented prompt 911 activation.
Inadequate training of employees on recognizing and responding to life-threatening medical emergencies such as choking.
Breach of the duty of care owed to patrons dining on food items that carry a known and foreseeable risk of choking.

Attorneys for the family argue that restaurants, especially upscale venues serving steaks, prime rib, and other potentially hazardous foods, must anticipate choking incidents. Industry standards — supported by organizations such as the American Red Cross, the American Heart Association, and even OSHA guidelines for workplace first aid — emphasize that the very first action in a choking emergency should be to call emergency services while someone begins life-saving maneuvers.

Calling security instead of 911, the lawsuit contends, was not merely a mistake. It was a systemic failure rooted in a corporate culture that allegedly placed internal control and image management above human life.

The emotional toll on Duncan’s family is impossible to overstate.

His daughter — the dancer whose achievements he celebrated with boundless pride — watched her father die in front of her eyes. She saw the failed Heimlich attempts. She saw the staff standing by. She saw the moment he collapsed.

A heartfelt statement posted by Radar Dance Complex OCALA captured the community’s devastation:

“Our hearts are incredibly heavy as we mourn the sudden and tragic loss of one of our beloved dance dads, Kevin Duncan. Kevin was the dad who was always there — cheering the loudest, filming every routine, supporting his daughter and the entire team with love that knew no bounds. This heartbreaking event has left a profound impact on our entire community — especially the dancers, parents, and staff who were present and witnessed it firsthand. We ask that you please keep our dance family in your thoughts and prayers.”

A GoFundMe campaign launched shortly afterward quickly raised tens of thousands of dollars to support Duncan’s three children, cover funeral expenses, and help with future education costs. Messages poured in from across Florida and beyond, describing a man who lived for his family, who drove hours for dance competitions without complaint, who always had a joke ready and a hug waiting.

The Boathouse, meanwhile, issued only a brief, carefully worded statement through a spokesperson:

“We are very sorry for the tragic loss of life, and our thoughts are with those affected. Because this is an active legal matter, we are unable to comment at this time.”

Gibsons Restaurant Group — a Chicago-based company that operates several high-profile venues — has remained largely silent beyond that initial response.

The case has already begun attracting national attention, in part because it occurred at Disney Springs, a property owned and tightly controlled by The Walt Disney Company. While Disney itself is not named as a defendant, the incident inevitably raises uncomfortable questions about oversight, safety protocols, and emergency response standards at one of the world’s most famous tourist destinations.

Disney Springs attracts tens of millions of visitors each year. Restaurants there operate under strict brand guidelines, yet day-to-day emergency procedures fall to individual operators. The Duncan case highlights a potential dangerous gap between corporate branding and real-world crisis management.

Choking remains one of the leading causes of preventable death in the United States. The National Safety Council estimates more than 5,000 fatal choking incidents occur annually, with food-related asphyxiation accounting for a significant portion among adults. Restaurants are obvious high-risk environments.

Previous lawsuits have resulted in multimillion-dollar settlements when establishments failed to act swiftly. In 2018, a California family received a substantial payout after a loved one choked to death in a chain restaurant where staff allegedly hesitated to intervene. Similar cases have played out across the country, each reinforcing the same principle: when seconds determine survival, hesitation can be fatal.

Medical experts consulted in similar litigation emphasize that even if the Heimlich maneuver fails initially, professional responders carry specialized tools — laryngoscopes, Magill forceps, suction devices — that can remove stubborn obstructions far more effectively than abdominal thrusts alone.

Had 911 been called immediately, paramedics might have arrived within the critical four-minute window. The outcome could have been dramatically different.

Instead, Kevin Duncan became another statistic — and his family became another plaintiff seeking justice.

Beyond the courtroom, the tragedy has sparked renewed calls for reform. Safety advocates argue that every restaurant employee in the United States should receive mandatory training in basic life support, including recognition and management of choking emergencies. Many believe that any internal policy requiring staff to call security before 911 should be outlawed as a matter of public safety.

Some industry leaders have quietly begun reviewing their own emergency protocols in light of the Duncan lawsuit. Others remain silent, waiting to see how the case unfolds.

For the dance community in Ocala, the pain remains raw. Practices continue. Competitions go on. Yet every routine, every award ceremony, carries an unspoken absence. The chair that Duncan used to occupy near the front row stays empty. The camera he always held remains untouched.

His daughter still dances — because that is what her father would have wanted. But the joy is tempered now, shadowed by memories no child should ever have to carry.

The legal battle will likely stretch for months, perhaps years. Depositions will be taken. Internal documents will be subpoenaed. Expert witnesses will testify about hypoxia timelines, corporate training standards, and the foreseeability of choking hazards.

In the end, a jury — or a settlement conference — will decide whether The Boathouse’s actions constituted negligence severe enough to warrant substantial damages.

But no verdict can bring Kevin Duncan back.

No amount of money can erase the image of a father collapsing while his daughter watches helplessly.

What remains is a stark, painful lesson: in places built for celebration, sometimes the smallest delay can steal a life forever.

And once that life is gone, no amount of magic — Disney or otherwise — can make it right.