05/07/2026
LOCAL 12, WKRC-TV Liz Bonis Local 12 News
There are many beautiful tributes being shared about Liz, and like so many of you, I’ve been trying to process this loss. I initially wrote something much longer, but wanted to bring together my personal thoughts with what she meant to our entire Advanced family.
I’ve known Liz for more than 15 years. She attended the Rochester Institute of Technology (RIT) for her undergraduate degree, where her father was a professor. My son attended RIT as well, so we often shared stories about the university and those connections. She later went on to the Newhouse School of Communications at Syracuse University—a place that also holds meaning for me, as I earned my degree in molecular biology and biochemistry there. From the very beginning, there was a natural connection—our friendship and trust in each other started on day one.
Liz was truly one of a kind—fearless in her pursuit of meaningful health reporting and deeply committed to telling the stories that mattered most. For more than 15 years, she trusted us to be part of that mission, featuring our team in her “What’s Happening in Health” segments and beyond. We were honored to stand alongside her in educating and informing our community.
She was incredibly generous with her time and insight. Whether it was Botox and fillers, hair transplants, facelifts, eyelid rejuvenation, rhinoplasty, hormone replacement, weight loss therapies, COVID, current events, or evolving surgical techniques, Liz always wanted to understand—and to help others understand. She supported our team, offered her perspective freely, always constructively, and always with kindness. She had her preferences—organized, methodical—but above all, she was warm. Always.
She also held herself—and everyone around her—to a very high standard. Liz was incredibly detail-oriented and took real pride in her productions. I remember the first time we went live from our virtual set—I hadn’t run it by her beforehand and wasn’t sure how she would react. Her producer joined just before the segment and said, “cool set.” We went live, and later Liz texted me to say how much she liked it—even joking that it might be nicer than the station’s. From that point on, she would always introduce us as “live from Advanced Cosmetic Surgery & Laser Centers’ virtual set.” That was Liz—precise, thoughtful, and also incredibly generous in how she supported and elevated others.
There were moments that captured just how much she cared. I remember Liz and James walking back into our office one day and noticing a clip from another station on one of our monitors. Liz immediately made a protective comment—as if to say we were her team, her experts. I remember feeling a little caught off guard, but James quickly stepped in with a smile and said something along the lines of, “Liz, take it easy—they have stories to share.” It was lighthearted, even funny—but underneath it was something real. She was loyal. She took pride in the people she worked with, and she genuinely wanted to support them.
There were so many occasions when I would wake up in the middle of the night—3 or 4 a.m.—and notice that Liz had already sent over a new idea for a story, along with links and thoughtful questions. I used to tease her that no matter what time it was, Liz was always up working. And while I joked about it, I will truly miss those middle-of-the-night messages. That was her—always thinking, always curious, always committed.
Over the years, Liz and James truly became part of our Advanced family. We loved seeing them so often. I still smile thinking about James coming into the office during COVID asking for masks—he loved how they looked on him. He was always kind, whether we were in the Channel 12 studio or here in our office.
They were both so comfortable in our world—coming back into the OR, reporting and filming while we operated. And when it came to patient interviews, no one made patients feel more at ease than Liz. She listened. She cared. And it showed.
What makes her impact even more profound is the quiet strength she carried. While continuing to shine a light on the health of others, Liz was courageously battling colon cancer for the past four years—something she did with remarkable grace and privacy. Even just 10 days ago, she was in our office. Looking back, it was the first time I felt that Liz wasn’t quite herself—but she still showed up, still reported, still followed through. That was who she was.
I reached out to her because I sensed something wasn’t right, hoping she might share more. That message went unanswered.
The loss of James was devastating to her—understandably so. I was fortunate to spend a few hours with her during his funeral. She was heartbroken, and yet surrounded by an incredible community of friends and colleagues who loved her deeply. That same love is so evident now.
On a personal level, Liz was there for me during difficult times in my own life. More recently, when my mother passed, her words were kind, gentle, and meaningful in a way that truly helped ease that loss. In recent years, she shared more of her own philosophy, her reading, her perspective on life—conversations I will always value.
There’s a line from a Grateful Dead song that has stayed with me as I’ve thought about Liz: “strangers stopping strangers just to shake their hands.” That was her. She met people with genuine warmth. She connected easily, listened deeply, and made people feel seen and cared for. She wasn’t just reporting on the community—she was truly part of it.
We are heartbroken. There is a void here that cannot be filled.
We are incredibly grateful to have known her, to have worked with her, and to have been part of the stories she told so beautifully.
Liz will always be a reminder of what it means to be a champion for others.
She will be deeply missed.
Jon E. Mendelsohn
