It was 5:18 a.m. on December 1st, 2023, when my world crumbled. I’m Emma Brice, Cali’s little sister, and that morning, I was the first to learn the devastating truth—my vibrant sister Cali 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. The air drained from my chest as I stood there, my mind reeling, unable to comprehend that Cali, who deserved only love and safety, had died trying to shield her children from such a monster.
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. As I paced my home in a panic, calling my brother and husband, choking out, “Our sister is gone,” the words tasting like ash. Later, I would have to tell her Zeke too had been maliciously murdered, and the grief in her voice shattered me.
Cali 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. Now, Lainey will grow up without her Auntie Cali, and I dread the day she learns the brutal truth of how her aunt, who loved her so fiercely, was stolen away.
Zeke was pure joy, his smile melting stone, his laugh a melody in your bones. He should be running now, learning words, helping Cali bake bread, dancing in the kitchen, exploring mountains with Lainey and Freya as cousins and mischief-makers. Instead, that future was torn from us. The man who did this didn’t just kill three lives—he destroyed our safety, shattered our peace, and rewrote our family’s story.
My mom’s grief runs bone-deep; I’ve seen her soul transform, struggling to support us when she had nothing left. My father’s pain is a storm he can’t escape and watching him falter leaves me wordless. My brother has been our pillar, managing legal battles and horrific details with grace, hiding his own breaking heart. My husband has been my rock, holding me through breathless breakdowns, carrying his grief for our family alongside mine.
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 Cali, and I’m left learning to live with a hole that never fades.
This loss touched us all. I share this to keep Cali’s laughter, Zeke’s joy, and Freya’s promise alive. Though justice can’t heal us, I hope it honors their memory and the lives forever changed. This is for them—for Cali, Zeke, Freya, and all of us who carry them every day.
-Emma