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On June 14th, 2025, at Mount Olivet Baptist Church on Chicago's South Side, 58-year-old Patricia Collins stabbed 30-year-old Briana Hayes, her son's fiancée, in the neck with a kitchen knife. The attack took place at the altar during the wedding ceremony in front of 87 guests. Briana Hayes died on the spot before the ambulance arrived. Patricia Collins did not try to flee and did not resist arrest.
To understand what happened that day in the church, we need to go back 10 years. The Collins family lived in a two-story brick house on 79th Street in the Chatham neighborhood. Patricia worked as a senior nurse at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. 26 years of experience, night shifts, double shifts on holidays. Curtis, her husband, had worked for 30 years as a shift supervisor at a UPS logistics terminal on the west side of the city. Every morning he left home at 5:40 a.m. and returned at 7:00 p.m. The house was paid off, they owned both cars, and there was always a turkey on the Christmas table. They had three children. The eldest, DeAndre, was 25 years old and had already graduated from engineering college and was working as a ventilation system designer at Trane Technologies. The middle child, Monica, 22, was studying accounting at the University of Illinois. And the youngest, Keisha, 17, was a senior at Simeon High School. Keisha wanted to be a nurse like her mother. She had already applied to Malcolm X College for the nursing program and was volunteering at a clinic on Cottage Grove Avenue on Saturdays. Patricia was quietly proud of her in her own way. She didn't praise her to her face, but one evening, when Keisha had gone to her room, she said to Curtis, "She'll make a better nurse than I did. Her hands are softer." Curtis laughed and replied, "Your hands aren't bad either. I've put up with them for 30 years."
On October 3rd, 2015, Keisha was returning home from her evening shift at the clinic. She was walking along the sidewalk on 75th Street, three blocks from her home. At 9:14 p.m., a gray Honda Civic veered onto the sidewalk and struck her. Keisha hit her head on the curb and died instantly. The driver did not stop. Patricia got a call at 9:47 p.m. She was standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes after dinner. Curtis was sitting in the living room watching TV. Patricia answered the phone, listened, put the phone down on the table and said, "Curtis, let's go. Keisha." She didn't say another word until they got to the hospital. The police found the car the next day. It was parked in the courtyard of an apartment complex on 63rd Street and belonged to 22-year-old Leroy Mills. Leroy was arrested and immediately confessed. He said he was driving, had been drinking, and lost control of the car. At the trial, his lawyer asked for leniency. Leroy had no criminal record, worked as a warehouse loader, and supported his mother. The judge sentenced him to 4 years in prison for manslaughter and leaving the scene of an accident. Patricia sat in the front row of the courtroom. When the sentence was read, she looked at Leroy. He stood behind the barrier with his head bowed. Curtis cried quietly beside her. Patricia did not cry. On the way out of the courtroom, Curtis said, "4 years. 4 years for our girl." Patricia replied, "He'll get out. She won't."
From that day on, the house on 79th Street became quieter. Curtis grieved openly, going to the cemetery every Sunday, talking to Pastor Campbell, crying in the kitchen at night. Monica returned to college a month later. DeAndre took 2 weeks off, then went back to work. Patricia couldn't cope. She continued to work shifts, cooked dinner, and do laundry. From the outside, everything looked normal, but she locked Keisha's room and never opened it. On the mantelpiece in the living room were photos of all three children. Next to Keisha's photo, Patricia placed a small vase with fresh flowers and changed them every Saturday, 10 years in a row. Curtis once suggested she talk to someone, a psychologist. Patricia looked at him and said, "I have no one to talk to, Curtis. The person I want to talk to is no longer here." He never suggested it again.
Years passed. Monica graduated from college, got a job at an accounting firm, got married, and had a daughter. DeAndre was promoted to lead engineer. The family continued to live, not because the pain had gone away, but because there was no other choice. In March 2021, DeAndre met Briana Hayes at a mutual friend's birthday party at a restaurant on Michigan Avenue. Briana was 26 and worked as a customer service manager at Allstate Insurance. She was tall with short hair and a broad smile. She laughed loudly and spoke quickly, and DeAndre, who was used to weighing every word, realized that evening that he didn't need to choose his words carefully around her. She did the talking for both of them. Briana grew up on the west side of Chicago. Her father, Raymond Hayes, owned a small electrical contracting firm, and her mother, Diane, worked as an office manager at a law firm. Briana graduated from the University of Illinois at Chicago with a degree in business administration, worked at a call center for 3 years, and then moved to Allstate. No one in DeAndre's circle knew where she had lived before or who she had dated in her 20s. Briana said she had moved from Englewood to Hyde Park for work. That was true, but not the whole truth.
DeAndre brought Briana home 2 months later. Curtis accepted her immediately, asking her about her job, joking, getting lemonade from the fridge. At dinner, he asked, "Where are you from, Briana?" She replied, "Englewood, but I left there a long time ago." Curtis nodded. "Right. Those who can leave." Patricia was polite. She shook her hand, asked where she worked, and nodded. She was mostly silent during dinner. When Briana and DeAndre left, Curtis said, "She's a good girl, lively." Patricia replied, "She's nice. Time will tell." Time showed that Briana fit in. She came for Sunday dinners, helped Patricia in the kitchen, brought Curtis cigars for his birthday, and gave Monique's daughter a set of books for Christmas. Once in the kitchen, Briana was chopping onions for baked beans and asked Patricia, "Ms. Collins, do you always add cumin?" Patricia replied, "I've been adding it for 30 years, and call me Patricia. Enough already." Briana smiled. "Okay, Patricia." From that evening on, she began to call her by her first name.
In December 2024, DeAndre proposed to Briana. He chose the ring with Monica, white gold with a small diamond. Briana said yes right away. The next day, DeAndre called his mother. "Mom, she said yes." Patricia paused and said, "I'm happy for you, son. When's the wedding?" "In the summer at our church." "Okay. I'll talk to Pastor Campbell." The wedding was set for June 14th, 2025. The preparations went smoothly. Briana chose her dress at a salon on State Street. Tiffany Wallace, her best friend, became her maid of honor. Jerome Sanders, an old friend of DeAndre's, agreed to be the best man. Patricia helped with the reception, calling catering companies, agreeing on the menu, and approving the seating arrangements.
In March 2025, 3 months before the wedding, Patricia received an unexpected visitor. Saturday morning, Curtis had gone out for groceries. Patricia was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee. The doorbell rang. On the porch stood a woman in her 60s, thin, wearing a worn coat, her face gray. Patricia didn't know her. "Mrs. Collins, my name is Gladys Mills. I am Leroy Mills' mother." Patricia didn't answer right away. She stood in the doorway and looked at the woman whose son had killed her daughter 10 years ago. Then she stepped aside and let her in. Gladys sat down at the kitchen table. She declined coffee. She put her hands on her knees. "Leroy died 3 weeks ago. Cirrhosis. He was 32." Patricia was silent. "Before he died, he told me something. I didn't want to come, but he asked me to. He said, 'Mom, go to her and tell her the truth because I can't die with this.'" Gladys looked up at Patricia. "He wasn't driving that night. His girlfriend was driving. Briana Hayes." Patricia sat motionless. The cup of coffee stood in front of her, but she didn't touch it. Gladys told her everything Leroy had said. Briana was coming back from the club that night. She had been drinking, but insisted on driving. Leroy gave her the keys. On 75th Street, she didn't see the girl on the sidewalk. When they got out and saw that the girl wasn't breathing, Briana started screaming. Leroy told her to leave. She left. He got behind the wheel, drove the car home, waited for the police, and took the blame because he loved her, because she had a clean record and he had nothing. He said she never called him once in the 4 years he was in prison. Not once. Not a single letter. Patricia asked, "Are you sure he wasn't delirious?" Gladys shook her head. "He was lucid. He gave her full name, Briana Hayes. Said she lives on the north side now. Works in insurance." Gladys stood up. "I told you what he asked me to tell you. I'm sorry I came. And I'm sorry about my son. About everything." Patricia walked her to the door and closed it behind her. She returned to the kitchen. The coffee had gone cold. She poured it down the sink and sat back down at the table. She sat there for 3 hours until Curtis returned. He put the bags on the table and asked, "Everything okay?" Patricia said, "Yes. Just tired after my shift." She didn't tell her husband. She didn't tell Deondre. She didn't tell Monica. Instead, Patricia checked for herself. She found Leroy's old Facebook account. The photos hadn't been deleted. An archive from 2014 and 2015. In several photos, there was a young woman next to him. One photo, dated August 2015, showed Leroy hugging a girl in front of a gray Honda Civic. The same one. The girl was smiling at the camera. It was Briana. 3 months before the wedding.
Patricia continued to live as usual. She went to work. She cooked dinner. She called catering companies. She discussed the seating arrangements. When Briana came over for Sunday dinners, Patricia served her a plate and smiled. When Briana talked about dress fittings and choosing flowers for the bouquet, Patricia nodded and said, "White lilies will be beautiful." When Deondre asked, "Mom, how are you?" Patricia replied, "I'm fine, son. Just a lot of work." Curtis didn't notice anything. Deondre didn't notice anything. Monica didn't notice anything. A week before the wedding, Patricia sat alone in the living room. Curtis was at work. She looked at the mantelpiece, a photo of Keisha next to a vase of fresh carnations. Then she looked at the refrigerator, where a wedding invitation was attached with a magnet. A white envelope, gold letters. Deondre and Briana. June 14th, 2025.
On the morning of June 14th, Patricia woke up at 6:00 a.m. Curtis was still asleep. She took a shower, drank coffee, and ironed the dark blue dress she had bought for her son's wedding. She put it on. She looked in the mirror. Then she opened the kitchen drawer, took out a knife with a wooden handle, 16 cm of blade, and put it in her purse. The ceremony was scheduled for 2:00 p.m. Mount Olivet Church was an old brick building on Stony Island Avenue, with wooden pews, stained glass windows, and the smell of polish and fresh flowers. By half past 1:00, almost everyone had gathered. 87 guests, relatives from both sides, colleagues, friends. Women in bright dresses and hats, men in suits, children in fancy clothes ran between the pews. Someone placed baskets of rose petals along the aisle. Diane Hayes, the bride's mother, hugged her relatives at the entrance and wiped away tears with a handkerchief. Tears of happiness. Patricia sat in the front row on the right, next to Curtis. Her purse was on her lap. Curtis leaned over to her and said quietly, "Everything turned out beautifully, Pat." She nodded. Deondre stood at the altar in a dark gray suit. Next to him was Jerome Sanders, the best man, broad-shouldered, in the same suit, but with a different boutonniere. Pastor Campbell, dressed in white, leafed through the Bible. Deondre was nervous, adjusting his tie and shifting from foot to foot. Jerome patted him on the shoulder and said, "Relax, bro. It's not an exam." Deondre smiled. At 2:00 p.m., the march began. The hall stood up. The doors at the end of the aisle opened, and Briana walked out arm in arm with her father. A white dress, a veil, a bouquet of white lilies. Raymond Hayes walked slowly, holding his daughter by the elbow, and it was clear that he was trying not to cry. Briana smiled. Tiffany Wallace, standing at the altar in her lavender bridesmaid's dress, whispered, "My God, she's beautiful." One of the older relatives in the back row said aloud, "God bless her." Briana reached the altar. Raymond gave her hand to Deondre, nodded to him, stepped back to the pew where Diane was sitting, and sat down next to his wife. Pastor Campbell raised his hand and began, "Beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony." Patricia looked at Briana, at the white dress, at the lilies in her hands, at her smile. The pastor spoke of love, of fidelity, of vows before God. Deondre looked at Briana the way his father had looked at Patricia 35 years ago in this same church. The guests smiled. Diane was crying. Monica held her daughter in her arms and whispered to her, "Look, it's Uncle getting married." Pastor Campbell turned to Briana. "Briana, do you take Deondre to be your lawful husband? Do you promise to love and care for him?" Patricia stood up. Curtis turned his head. He thought his wife was feeling ill. She had been pale all day. He reached for her hand, but Patricia had already walked into the aisle. She walked toward the altar, calmly, with steady steps. Her purse was open. Her right arm hung down at her side. In her hand was a knife. Briana turned to her. She was still smiling. She thought her mother-in-law wanted to say something, perhaps to bless them. Deondre turned, too. Pastor Campbell stopped mid-sentence. Patricia came up close. She looked Briana in the eyes and said quietly, so that only those standing at the altar could hear, "This is for Keisha." She stabbed Briana in the neck with the knife. Briana swayed. The bouquet of lilies fell to the floor. She took a step back and fell. Deondre screamed. Jerome rushed to Briana. Diane Hayes in the third row stood up and started screaming. Curtis sat in the front row and didn't move. He looked at his wife and didn't understand what he was seeing. Patricia dropped the knife. It fell to the floor next to the bouquet. She turned, walked back down the aisle to her pew, and sat down. She put her hands on her knees. Her dark blue dress was splattered with blood. Briana Hayes died on the floor of Mount Olivet Church 2 minutes later. She was 30 years old.
Detective Croft received the call at 2:21 p.m. as he was finishing his lunch break in the cafeteria on the first floor of the Chicago Police Department headquarters on 35th Street. The dispatcher reported a stabbing at Mount Olivet Baptist Church on Stony Island Avenue. The victim, a 30-year-old woman who died at the scene. The suspect detained and inside the church building. Croft finished his coffee, grabbed his jacket, and walked out to his patrol car. He arrived at 2:38 p.m. Two patrol cars and an ambulance were parked at the church entrance. Guests crowded the parking lot. Women in bright dresses, men in suits, some crying, some talking on the phone. A child in fancy clothes sat on the curb and silently watched the flashing lights. Sergeant Kimberly Ross, a 38-year-old patrol officer with 12 years of experience, met Croft at the door. "The victim is the bride, Briana Hayes, 30 years old. Stab wound to the neck, one blow. The suspect is Patricia Collins, 58 years old, the groom's mother. She's sitting inside in the front pew. She didn't resist. The knife is on the floor by the altar. We haven't touched it." Croft entered the church. Briana's body lay on the floor in front of the altar, covered with a white tablecloth that one of the guests had taken from the gift table. Next to it on the floor was a bouquet of white lilies and a kitchen knife with a wooden handle. Patricia Collins sat in the first pew on the right, handcuffed, her hands on her knees. Her dark blue dress was splattered with blood. She stared straight ahead. Croft approached her. "Mrs. Collins, I'm Detective Croft, Homicide Division. Do you understand what happened?" Patricia looked up at him. "I understand." "Do you want to say anything?" "No. Not now." Croft nodded and walked away. Forensic scientist Eric Davenport was already working at the altar, photographing the body, the knife, and the blood stains on the floor and steps. When he was done, he called Croft over. "One wound, right side of the neck, carotid artery damaged. Kitchen knife, blade approximately 16 cm long, wooden handle. The blow was delivered from the front with the right hand, from top to bottom. The victim was standing facing the suspect. Death occurred within 2 to 3 minutes from blood loss. The medical examiner will confirm this, but it's pretty obvious." Croft examined the altar. Rose petals mixed with blood lay on the floor. Pastor Campbell's Bible remained open on the pulpit. On the first pew on the left was the bride's handbag, white with a purple clasp. On the first pew on the right, next to where Patricia had been sitting, was her dark handbag, open. Croft looked inside. Wallet, keys, phone, handkerchief, a pack of mints. She had taken the knife out beforehand. Medical examiner Grace Tanaka arrived at 3:05 p.m. and confirmed Davenport's conclusion. A single penetrating wound to the right side of the neck with damage to the carotid artery. Death from massive blood loss occurring between 2:12 and 2:16 p.m.
Croft began questioning witnesses. First, he spoke with Deondre Collins. The 35-year-old man was sitting on the steps of the side entrance to the church. His suit was unbuttoned, his tie removed. His hands were covered in blood. He had tried to staunch the wound on Briana's neck while waiting for the ambulance. Jerome Sanders stood nearby smoking silently. "Mr. Collins, did you hear what your mother said before she struck her?" Deondre stared at the ground. "She said, 'This is for Kesha.' Who is Kesha?" "My sister. My younger sister. She was hit by a drunk driver 10 years ago. She died." "What did your fiancée have to do with this?" Deondre looked up. "Nothing. I don't understand what happened. Briana had nothing to do with it." Croft made a note and moved on to Curtis Collins. The 62-year-old man stood by the patrol car, pale, his hands shaking. When Croft asked him a question, he replied, "I don't know why she did it. Pat never showed any aggression toward Briana. Never. I don't know what's going on. Kesha died 10 years ago. What does Briana have to do with it?" Croft interviewed five more witnesses, Pastor Campbell, Tiffany Wallace, Raymond and Diane Hayes, and Monica Collins. All the testimonies coincided. Patricia got up from the pew, walked up to the altar, said, "This is for Kesha," and stabbed the bride. No one tried to stop her. It all happened in a matter of seconds. No one understood the connection between Kesha Collins and Briana Hayes.
Croft returned to the office and started with a 10-year-old case. He quickly found it in the database. October 3rd, 2015. Pedestrian struck on 75th Street. Victim, Kesha Collins, 17 years old, died at the scene. The driver, Leroy Mills, 22 years old, was driving a gray Honda Civic while intoxicated. Fled the scene of the accident, was arrested the next day, and pleaded guilty. Sentence, 4 years imprisonment. Croft checked Leroy Mills' status. Released in 2019. He died on February 28th, 2025 at Stroger Hospital of cirrhosis of the liver. 32 years old. Next were his closest relatives. His mother, Gladys Mills, 60 years old, lived on 63rd Street. Croft went to see her the next morning. Gladys Mills opened the door of a small apartment on the second floor of a residential complex. Croft showed his badge and explained that he was investigating a murder at Mount Olivet Church. Gladys turned pale at the name Patricia Collins. "I visited her 3 months ago. I told her what Leroy said before he died." "What did he say?" Gladys recounted. "Before he died, Leroy confessed that it wasn't him behind the wheel that night, but his girlfriend, Briana Hayes. Leroy took the blame because he loved her. Briana never visited him or wrote to him during his 4 years in prison." "Did you believe him?" Croft asked. "He was dying. Why would a dying man lie? Why did you go to Patricia Collins instead of the police?" Gladys paused. "The police put my son in prison for 4 years. No one bothered to find out who was driving. Leroy confessed, and that was it. I went to her because Leroy asked me to. He said he wanted the girl's mother to know the truth. I didn't think she would." Gladys fell silent. Croft checked her words. He pulled up the case files from 2015. Leroy Mills was arrested on October 4th, 2015, confessed, and stated that he was the only one driving. The test confirmed alcohol in his blood, 1 and 2 per mille. But Croft noticed a detail. When he was arrested, Leroy was sitting in the passenger seat of the car, not the driver's seat. The report explained that he had moved after parking. 10 years ago, no one bothered to dig deeper. Croft checked social media. He found Leroy Mills' old Facebook account. Photos from 2014 to 2015. In several pictures, a young woman was next to him. A photo from August 2015. Leroy is hugging a girl in front of a gray Honda Civic. Croft compared the face with a photo of Briana Hayes from the driver's license database. It was a match.
On the second day after her arrest, Patricia Collins agreed to testify. Croft and his partner, Detective Lauren Fishbourne, 39, with 13 years of experience, entered the interrogation room. Patricia's lawyer, public defender Stephen Randolph, sat nearby. Patricia spoke calmly, without emotion. She told them about Gladys Mills' visit, about how she checked and found the photos, about the 3 months she lived with this knowledge. "Why didn't you tell your husband?" Croft asked. "Because Curtis would have told Deondre. Deondre would have called off the wedding. And she would have just left. She would have left and moved on with her life. Just as she had lived for 10 years, peacefully, with a good job, with a clear conscience." "Why didn't you go to the police?" "With what? With the words of a dead drug addict? Leroy is dead. The evidence is a photo on Facebook. The case has been closed for 10 years. No one would have revisited it." "Did you plan to kill Briana Hayes?" "I took the knife in the morning and put it in my purse. Yes, I planned it." "Did you understand what you were doing?" Patricia looked at Croft. "Detective, I've been a nurse for 26 years. I know where the carotid artery is. I knew where I was stabbing. I knew she would die." Randolph put his hand on the table. "My client will not answer any more questions." Croft turned off the recording. The interrogation lasted 41 minutes. The case was transferred to Cook County Court. Patricia Collins was charged with first-degree murder, premeditated murder.
The trial began on September 8th, 2025. Presiding was Judge Caroline Ashford, a 57-year-old woman with 20 years of experience on the bench. The prosecution was represented by Assistant District Attorney Dwight Parish, 50 years old, a thin man with thin-rimmed glasses. The defense was led by Stephen Randolph. Parish was brief in his opening statement. 3 months before the murder, Patricia Collins learned information that she believed linked Briana Hayes to the death of her daughter 10 years earlier. She did not go to the police, did not consult a lawyer, did not talk to her family. Instead, she spent 3 months planning the murder, chose the time and place, her own son's wedding, and stabbed her with a knife, knowing exactly where to strike. This was not a crime of passion. This was not a breakdown. This was an execution. Randolph built his defense on something else. 10 years of grief, he said. 10 years of an unhealed wound. And then, the discovery that the woman who killed your child is sitting at your dinner table, calling you by name, and about to become part of your family. Randolph did not deny the fact of the murder or dispute its premeditation. He asked the jury to consider the circumstances, the prolonged psychological impact, the post-traumatic stress disorder, the inability to obtain justice through legal means.
The first witness for the prosecution was Croft. He outlined the chronology, Gladys Mills' visit, 3 months of silence, the knife in the purse on the morning of the wedding, a single precise blow to the carotid artery. Randolph asked in cross-examination, "Detective, did you verify Gladys Mills' statement about Briana Hayes' involvement in the 2015 car accident?" Croft answered in the affirmative and mentioned a detail from Leroy's arrest report, the passenger seat, and photos from social media. Medical examiner Tanaka confirmed the cause of death. A single penetrating wound to the right side of the neck, damage to the right common carotid artery. Death from acute blood loss within 2 to 3 minutes. Pastor Willie Campbell testified about what happened at the altar. "I was reading the wedding text. Patricia stood up, and I thought she wasn't feeling well. She walked over to Briana. She said something quietly. Then I saw the knife. It all happened very quickly. 3, maybe 4 seconds." Campbell paused. "I've known this family for 30 years. I baptized Kesha, and I buried Kesha. I don't understand how God could allow this to happen twice in one family." Tiffany Wallace, a friend of the bride, cried as she testified. "Briana never told me about any Leroy, or any accident. I knew her for 8 years. She was my best friend. She was a good person." Parish asked, "Do you admit that Briana could have hidden such information?" Tiffany replied, "I don't know. I don't know anything anymore." Gladys Mills testified via video link. She repeated Leroy's words verbatim. Randolph asked, "Mrs. Mills, did your son name a specific name?" "Yes, Briana Hayes. He said she was driving, and I took the blame for it. Was he delirious? Was he under the influence of drugs? No. The doctor said he was lucid. He knew he was dying and wanted to tell the truth." Deondre Collins testified for 40 minutes. He sat upright, spoke slowly, pausing between sentences. "I loved my sister. I loved Breonna. I loved my mother. Now one is dead, another is in prison. And the third, it turns out, killed the first 10 years ago and didn't tell me. And I have to live with that." Parish asked, "Did you know about Breonna's relationship with Leroy Mills?" "No, she never mentioned that name." "Do you believe Breonna was driving that night?" Randolph objected. The question required an assumption. Judge Ashford struck the question. Raymond Hayes, Breonna's father, testified standing. He refused to sit down. The 56-year-old man in a black suit gripped the witness stand so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "My daughter was supposed to get married. I walked her down the aisle. I gave her hand to her groom. 3 minutes later, she was lying on the floor in a pool of blood. I built a business for 30 years so that my children could have a better life than I did. I had one daughter. One. And this woman stabbed her to death in a church like an animal." His voice trembled. "They tell me your daughter may have been at fault in the accident. Maybe. Maybe not. Leroy Mills is dead. There's no way to prove it. But even if it's true, she was 20 years old. 20. She deserved a trial, not a knife to the throat at her own wedding." Diane Hayes, Breonna's mother, was unable to testify. She took the stand, looked at Patricia, and began to speak. But after the first two sentences, she broke down in tears and was unable to continue. Judge Ashford announced a 15-minute recess. After the break, Diane said only, "I want the killer to spend as much time in prison as I have left to live so that I know that as long as I breathe, she is behind bars." Monica Collins spoke on behalf of the defense. She talked about her mother, about how Patricia was unable to recover after Keisha's death, about the closed room, about the vase of flowers that had been changed every Saturday for 10 years, about how Patricia had never seen a psychologist and never complained. "Mom kept everything inside, always. When Keisha died, she didn't cry. She didn't scream. She just closed the door to her sister's room and went on with her life. Dad cried. I cried. Deondre cried. Mom didn't. I thought she was strong. Now I realize she just broke down and no one noticed." Curtis Collins gave a brief statement. The 62-year-old man looked as if he had aged 10 years in 3 months. "Patricia didn't tell me anything. If she had, I would have talked to Deondre. We would have called off the wedding. We would have figured it out. I don't know why she didn't tell me." He paused. "No. I know. She didn't want to figure it out. She wanted someone to pay for Keisha. No one had paid for 10 years and she decided she would make Brian pay." Patricia Collins' final statement. She stood behind the barrier, prison uniform, hands shackled, thinner, no makeup, short cropped hair with thick gray streaks. "People tell me I should have gone to the police. With what? The words of a dead man? The case has been closed for 10 years. Leroy Mills was convicted and died. No one would have reviewed it." She fell silent. "People tell me I could have told my son. I could have. Deondre would have called off the wedding. Breonna would have left. So what? I would have gone on living just as I had for 10 years, quietly, with a good job, with my insurance company. And Keisha would be lying in the cemetery and no one would care. I'm 58 years old. I've been giving IVs to strangers for 26 years. I've been living with one man for 35 years. I raised three children, buried one, and every Saturday for 10 years, I put flowers on the shelf because I can't go to the cemetery every day. And then this woman is sitting in my kitchen, cutting onions, calling me by name, about to give my son grandchildren, and I know it's her. She got drunk and drove. She hit my girl. She let someone else's boy go to jail for it. And she didn't think about him or Keisha for 10 years." Patricia looked at Deondre. He was sitting in the third row, staring at the floor. "Son, I'm sorry. I know you won't forgive me. But I couldn't watch her stand at the altar in a white dress in the church where I buried Keisha." She turned to the judge. "I have nothing else to say."
The jury deliberated for 7 hours. The verdict, guilty of first-degree murder. Premeditation was established. The knife had been taken from the house on the morning of the wedding day. And the blow was delivered to a spot that the defendant knew from her professional training. Judge Ashford sentenced her to 32 years in prison without the possibility of parole for the first 20 years. "The court recognizes that the defendant acted under the influence of years of grief," Ashford said. "The court also recognizes that the circumstances surrounding the death of Keisha Collins warrant review. However, nothing gives a person the right to pass the death sentence in a church in front of their own son. The law exists to prevent this from happening even when the law is late." Patricia was led out of the courtroom. Curtis sat in the front row. He did not look after her. He looked at his hands folded on his lap and did not move. Deondre left the courtroom through a side exit. In the parking lot, he got into his car and closed the door. On the passenger seat was an envelope, a wedding invitation he had never put away, a white envelope with gold lettering. He picked it up, held it for a moment, and put it back. Raymond and Diane Hayes came out through the main entrance. Diane held her husband's arm. At the porch, a reporter with a microphone approached them and asked if they were satisfied with the verdict. Raymond looked at him and replied, "I still have the wedding gift box in my car, an iron. She wanted a good iron." He turned away and they walked to the parking lot.
At Oakwood Cemetery in section 214, there is a gray granite stone with the inscription, "Keisha Collins, 1998 to 2015. Beloved daughter and sister." No one came to the grave on Saturday after the sentencing. There were wilted carnations in a vase, the ones Patricia had placed there on the last Saturday before the wedding.