I was 12 when dad murdered mum but tried to frame ME – he said he’d seen me holding a knife over her corpse

HAYLEE Cole, now 31, was only 12 years old when her mum Tami, 41, was killed by her dad Brad Reay, 47.

He then tried to blame his only child for the stabbing.

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AP

Here, Haylee exclusively tells her story and how she went on to become a victims’ rights activist 

Waking up to find Mum nowhere in sight, I felt a deep sense of unease as Dad told me she’d run off with another man and might be gone for days.

I knew something was terribly wrong, because there was no way she’d have left me.

Dad walked me to school, which he never did, and whispered: “Don’t tell anybody your mum is missing, it’s personal.”

I agreed, but had no idea that on that cold morning in February 2006, aged just 12 years old, I was about to lose both my parents and my life would become a living nightmare. 

When I was growing up, Dad never spent much time with me.

He only cared about work and fishing, and we didn’t have much of a relationship.

Meanwhile, Mum and I had been extremely close – as an only child, I didn’t know how I was going to go on without her.

A week before Mum’s murder, my parents had sat me down and Mum had told me they were getting a divorce.

She said it was her decision and she seemed OK, but Dad was upset and in shock.

I couldn’t stop crying, because I’d had no idea it was coming.

Dad began acting strangely, sitting in bed all day, not eating or sleeping.

He took me for drives, where he tried to turn me against Mum, saying it was all her fault our family was splitting up.

I felt sorry for him, but I came to realise that the divorce was for the best for Mum.

But now she was gone – and I had no idea what had happened.

That afternoon, I was called into the headteacher’s office to speak to my panicked aunt Raquel on the phone.

Mum spoke to her mother Bonnie every morning without fail, but Bonnie hadn’t been able to get hold of Mum that day and she and Raquel were concerned.

I told them that I had last seen her the previous evening and that her purse and phone were still on the kitchen counter.

My aunt explained they had a feeling something was wrong and had called the supermarket where Mum worked to find she wasn’t there.

After speaking to her manager Brian and telling him they were worried, he’d called the police. 

Already sick with worry, I began to panic.

I was taken into foster care overnight, and the next morning a detective sat me down at the foster home and told me they’d launched an investigation into Mum’s disappearance, and that Dad had been arrested on suspicion of murder, by stabbing her 37 times in an horrific attack.

A police helicopter had found her naked body dumped in a remote location. 

I went into shock, unable to process what was happening.

As my dad was taken into custody, I never got the chance to confront him.

Within 24 hours, my grandad Don had driven nine hours to pick me up from our family home in South Dakota and I started living with Mum’s parents in Wyoming, more than 500 miles away.

I had just one suitcase of clothes to my name.

I was totally bewildered at how my dad could have killed my kind, caring mum after 13 years of marriage – I’d never seen him be violent before, however I later learned that he had been coercively controlling her.

My grandad told me Dad was obsessed with her, and when he wasn’t working long hours at Walmart, he’d be on her “like cling film”, almost as if he was  attached to his wife. 

Mum’s funeral was the hardest day of my life

All her family were totally devastated. but my grandparents tried to put on a brave face and be strong for me.  

Losing Mum in that way was incredibly traumatic, but with the support of my grandparents and aunties on my mum’s side – I had no contact with Dad’s family – I was determined to become the person I knew Mum wanted me to be.

Dad denied murdering Mum, and the case took nearly a year to get to trial.

In January 2007, I walked into the courthouse, supported by my grandparents and aunts, where my lawyer explained to us that my dad was blaming me for Mum’s murder. 

In the opening statement of the trial, his defence team claimed he’d seen me in a trance-like state holding a knife at Mum’s bedside after I’d become upset about the divorce.

He said he’d dumped her body and covered up the murder to protect me. 

I was stunned.

I felt used and so angry, but everybody said that all I had to do was tell the truth – so that’s what I did. 

When I took the stand, Dad sat in his orange jumpsuit, taking notes and watching me, trying to intimidate me.

His attorney kept throwing difficult questions at me, trying to twist my answers, but although I was scared, I stayed strong, determined to get justice for Mum.

During the trial, I also found out that she’d been having an affair with her co-worker Brian and that Dad knew about it, which really shocked and surprised me. 

Thankfully, the jury saw through Dad’s lies and he was found guilty of murder and  sentenced to life in prison without parole.

When his sentence was read out in court, my family and I all sobbed and hugged the prosecutors

He later tried to appeal this several times, but was unsuccessful. 

When his sentence was read out in court, my family and I all sobbed and hugged the prosecutors.

I felt relieved that everything we’d gone through had been worth it to get justice for Mum.

But I knew I’d never forgive him.

I didn’t want to see or speak to him ever again – the courthouse was the last time I saw him. 

Instead, I focused on rebuilding my life and getting back to a sense of normality.

Around a year after the trial, my dad’s father and brother got in touch and we still speak today, although they are unable to talk about what Dad did, as it’s too painful.

‘I know Mum would have adored being a grandma to my son’

Aged 15, I gave a talk to my school on what I had been through, and was overwhelmed at the support from my classmates, who hadn’t had a clue what had happened.

It inspired me to become a victims’ rights activist and public speaker, giving a voice to Mum and others whose lives had been cruelly cut short. 

I met my wonderful husband James in 2012, working in McDonald’s, and we had a son, now six.

Mum would have adored him, and it breaks my heart that she never got to meet him and see me become a mother.

He knows he had a grandma, but when he asks where she is, I change the subject, unable to tell him how she died. 

In February, 17 years into Dad’s sentence, I got a call from his prison, which I assumed was to tell me he was appealing his sentence again.

So when they told me he had died, it was a shock.

If anything, I felt sad because he lived such a waste of a life.

Now, alongside my job in administration, I train law enforcement professionals to deal with children going through similar traumas to mine, teaching that they can make a real difference to their future. 

If it wasn’t for my grandparents, I don’t know where I’d be today.

I’ll always be grateful.

My grandad continues to play a big part in my life and worships my son.

I often think of my grandma, who died aged 80 in December.

If I could talk to Mum again, I hope she’d be proud of what I’ve done to tell her story.