Anthony Joseph Carrell, age 48, of Helena

Anthony Joseph Carrell, ‘Tony,’ died from heart failure in Helena, MT, October 18th, 2025. He was born December 2, 1976 to Patricia and Gary Carrell in Missoula, MT, and grew up in the Helena Valley–the larger-than-life middle brother between Ben and Nick. He tended to dominate conversations with his boisterous personality, commanding presence, constant wisecracks, and a twinkle in his eye.

He played basketball for the Bruins, graduating in 1995. He had stints at the U of M and Phoenix, but returned home to complete an IT degree from Helena College of Technology, before beginning his career as the hero of the help desk with the Montana Department of Transportation.

He married Jeana Lantz, and was father to Wyatt and Landri. He and Jeana would divorce, but remain friendly. His two children would always be the lights of his life.

He told colorful stories and didn’t care that you’d heard them before, or sometimes whether they were true. He was a master of loud but playful posturing around inconsequential positions–like how tall Wyatt is getting, whose dog would win in a fight (first Blue and later Waylon), or whose grass is growing faster and needs more to be mowed (his and not Ben’s).

He was charming, and made friends quickly in every social setting, always seeing the best in people, drawing out their gifts, and making them feel like the only one in the room.

His crazy humor and booming voice showed up at every other social event and relationship. He sang “happy birthday” louder than anyone else. Even in his last days he would get down on the floor with his nieces and nephew to play.

“No matter the situation, he would bring laughter and excitement to the table,” says his older brother Ben. “A great joke, funny story (always exaggerated just the right amount)–and you would never have to look for him in a crowd. You would hear his voice from across the room and know exactly where he was.”

He was the clown, the instigator, the wild rebellious child, holding court among friends and family members to organize adventures and competitions. But beneath the performance was a soft heart that cared deeply for people, and wanted to connect with them and bring them together.

Through the ups and downs of family life, staying connected wasn’t always easy. The same bold spirit that once made Tony the life of every gathering became a difficult cross—but also a thread of love that quietly tied the family together. Even in death, Tony continues to unite us, giving birth to something new among those he loved.

He loved to debate–but only superficially; he never wanted a real fight. He would never stomp off mad, and would always go after you if you took anything personally. He would literally corner you and hug you till you caved.

Whatever struggles were hidden behind the force of his boisterous posturing personality, he rarely shared, even with those who loved him most–except the alcohol abuse that he could not hide in the last five years of his life.

He had a keen eye for the true, good and beautiful, a wannabe fly-fisherman, woodworker, artist, photographer, and–like all the brothers–an avid Chicago Bears, Bulls, and Cubs fan. Just three minutes before the miraculous 2006 Bears comeback against the Cardinals on Monday night football, Tony’s daughter Landri took her first breath. He always said the heavens must’ve opened twice that night—once for the Bears, and once for his little girl. It was a story he told again and again, with the wonder of a man who’d glimpsed the supernatural.

His brothers recall the stories that capture what made him so unique. “So many near death experiences,” says Ben, “like when he smashed his head on the ceiling jumping from the top of the stairs.” The three brothers were home alone and little Nick was scared by how much blood there was. “It’s my brains, stupid,” Tony told him.

He loved giving weird and thoughtful gifts, like the giant glass light-up dolphin for Nick and Beth’s wedding, specifically chosen and personally engraved knives for Christmas, and a red orchid for Beth when Will died, specifically telling her, “its name is Bill.”

When Wyatt moved to Bozeman, he sent him off by ordering the hottest hot sauce on the internet, filming the event–and nearly killed them both.

He had one last good sobriety stint when he spent three months in Turkey with his father, Gary. He ran 5 miles every morning, stopping to spend time with the neighbors (whose language he could not speak) along the way. Once Gary came home to a group of neighbors in the yard, howling at Tony’s antics. That neighborhood in Turkey is now in deep mourning.

At his niece Sam’s recent birthday party, her younger brother Ben sliced his finger on the screen door, and Nick and Beth had to rush to the hospital. Tony stayed to make sure Sammie had an amazing party, reaching out repeatedly for the rest of the night to see how little Ben was holding up.

He was so excited about the walkie talkies he bought for adventures in the wilderness–driving up to Will’s Mission land in a convoy with the family and messing around. The one time they would’ve actually been useful was when he crashed on a dirt bike. But he couldn’t find the right channel, so was unable to communicate with loved ones about his wounds, and had to hike up the mountain alone. Ben went to look for him—just as he always had, and as he always will.

The walkie talkie is still in the glove box of his nephew Joe’s car, forever silenced to the boisterous adventures, competitions, and stories that his family has been robbed of, and of knowledge of what pain was hidden below.

Casey Massengale, an honorary Carrell brother, was perhaps Tony’s truest friend. The two met through church as children, and Casey stood by him through every joy and trial. When the call came that Tony had passed, Casey was in the kitchen, preparing the meatloaf for their weekly dinner together.

Tony was like a father figure to Kylie and Jesse Lantz. He is survived by his parents, Patty & Gary (Umran), brothers Nick (Beth) and Ben (Demari), ex-wife Jeana Ruchert, and children Wyatt & Landri.

Nothing was more important to Tony than his two children. He beamed with love, pride, and admiration when he talked about them. One of the last things he told his father was, “I wasn’t very successful at a lot of things in life. But I really tried to be a good dad.”

And he was.

He tried so hard for his children–up to the end. He would frequently detox at home unassisted, which can be very dangerous. He would suffer nausea, vomiting, and hallucinations. With his daughter’s birthday coming up, he died alone, with no alcohol in the house–fighting till the end for those he cared about most.

Some of his last words in a family group text were these: “we are all in God’s hands.”

As true as it was even then–and is for all of us now–that has never been more true of Tony. His family takes consolation in the God whose mercy is the only hope of us all. They will deeply miss the Tony that they loved–the shenanigans and stories, wisecracks, posturing, and the tender heart beneath that fought deeply to love and connect.

Viewing will be at Anderson Wilke Friday from 3-5, and the funeral will be Saturday at 10am, followed by a reception. All are welcome, to share a story, to laugh and to cry as we remember his life.

Service Schedule

Visitation

3:00pm to 5:00pm

Friday October 24, 2025

Anderson Stevenson Wilke Funeral Home

3750 N Montana Ave.

Helena, Montana 59602

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Funeral Service

10:00am

Saturday October 25, 2025

Anderson Stevenson Wilke Funeral Home

3750 N Montana Ave.

Helena, Montana 59602

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Graveside Service

Following the Funeral Service

Saturday October 25, 2025

Resurrection Cemetery

3685 N Montana Ave.

Helena, Montana 59602

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Reception

Following the Graveside Service

Saturday October 25, 2025

Anderson Stevenson Wilke Funeral Home

3750 N Montana Ave.

Helena, Montana 59602

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