It was 5:18 a.m. on December 1st, 2023, when my world crumbled. I’m Emma Brice, Kali’s little sister, and that morning, I was the first to learn the devastating truth—my vibrant sister Kali had been brutally murdered, her unborn daughter Freya taken with her, and her joyful son Zeke missing, all by the hands of someone we trusted to protect her.
I’ll never forget calling my mother, my voice breaking as I told her that her daughter was gone, that Freya was lost, and that Zeke was missing. Her screams still echo in my mind, a sound that haunts my sleep, fills the silence, and cuts deep every time I look at my daughter Lainey and realize how fragile life is.
Kali was more than my sister, she was my cheerleader, bold and motherly, always speaking the truth I needed to hear. We were new moms together, raising Lainey and Zeke side by side, our parenting styles different but our bond unbreakable. We shared almost daily video messages, capturing the mundane joys of our lives—moments I’ll treasure forever.
Zeke was pure joy, his smile melting stone, his laugh a melody in your bones. He should be running now, learning words, helping Kali bake bread, dancing in the kitchen, exploring mountains with Lainey and Freya as cousins and mischief-makers. Instead, that future was torn from us.
Since that day, anxiety grips me. I wake from nightmares, question everything, and live sadder, more guarded, feeling it in my body, my parenting, my relationships. The Emma before that morning died with Kali, and I’m left learning to live with a hole that never fades.
I share this to keep Kali’s laughter, Zeke’s joy, and Freya’s promise alive. This is for them—for Kali, Zeke, Freya, and all of us who carry them every day.
-Emma