My girls, Brailey and Olivia, spent Christmas 2024 with me in Utah.
Their mother and I had divorced about four years earlier so, sadly, I didn't see the girls as much as I wanted. I knew I wanted full custody, but I soaked up every happy moment before the battle I knew was ahead.
We visited a local butterfly conservatory they loved. At the end of a long day having fun, they'd sometimes fall asleep together at home. Brailey always draped her arm protectively across her little sister.
When I took them back to their mother Tranyelle, in Wyoming, where they lived with their stepsisters and stepdad, on January 5, Brailey hesitated to get out of the car.
'Daddy, I don't want to go,' she said tearfully.
I knew if the handover was late there'd be consequences. Tranyelle had a short fuse.
'It's okay, sweetheart,' I forced a smile. 'I'll Facetime tomorrow and see you soon.'
It was heartbreaking.
On February 9, I Facetimed the girls as promised. They seemed fine. The next day I got a phonecall that made my world stop. It was Tranyelle's father. 'Quinn, Tranyelle's done something terrible,' he said. 'Brailey's dead. Olivia may not make it.'
Tranyelle and her new husband, Cliff Harshman, had two girls of their own - Jordan, aged 2, and Brooke, who was turning 3 - she had killed them too, he told me, then shot herself. She was 32.
I couldn't breathe. This can't be real. What kind of mother shoots her children?
I couldn't think straight. I still can't.
There were some signs along the way.
Early on, Tranyelle, whom I met through church friends, mentioned having bipolar disorder.
'I never agreed with the diagnosis,' she added.
Her moods shifted quickly, but nothing concerned me.
We married in 2014. When she fell pregnant, I was overjoyed. A big kid myself, I'd always dreamed of being a father and having a large family.
Brailey was born in November 2015. Tranyelle was a good mother to her and we were both thrilled when, two years later, Olivia arrived.
I fondly recall a moment years later where Brailey and Olivia scrambled across the carport roof collecting toy rockets they'd fired up there.
Brailey, then 7, shuffled cautiously towards me on her bottom. ‘Dad, help me get down,’ she said. I did and then Olivia, 5 yelled, ‘Dad, catch me!’ and threw herself off the roof without warning.
That summed up my girls.
Olivia was fearless, with electric-blue eyes sparkling as she threw herself into every challenge. Brailey was the typical responsible big sister. Both girls were fiery redheads, smart and kind.
Brailey's teachers chose her as a role model for struggling kids. Like me though, she was silly and a joker.
I loved being their dad but Tranyelle was unhappy.
I thought we had both wanted a big family but suddenly she announced she had changed her mind. ‘Two is enough,’ she said, ‘I’m done.’
I was disappointed. There were other issues.
She had a short fuse. Arguments escalated fast. ‘You’re not pulling your weight,’ she snapped if I couldn’t settle Olivia. If I cooked dinner and it wasn’t ready on time, she’d explode. If I was assembling furniture and took too long, she’d snap, ‘I’ll do it,’ and take over.
When Olivia was a few months old, Tranyelle suddenly told me, ‘We’re moving in with my mom.’ There was no discussion.
We stayed with her mother until I got two jobs to support us and our own apartment.
Now, Tranyelle spent weekends away visiting friends, leaving me with the girls.
A big kid myself, I'd always dreamed of being a father and having a large family
One day, after Brailey finished playing with Tranyelle's old phone, I picked it up and saw a message from a man. 'Send me pics of you in that new bra and panties.' She was having an affair.
'You need to lose weight. You could be a better husband and father,' she snapped when I confronted her. I tried to move past it for the girls' sake.
We moved again and went to counselling. My well-paid oil industry job meant that I worked 20 days in the field, then had the next ten back home in Montana.
I thought we'd have family time together on my breaks, but within an hour of me returning, Tranyelle would disappear for days visiting family and friends in Wyoming. Or so she said.
Eventually she confessed what I suspected. She'd met someone else, Cliff Harshman. We were separated - though still married and living together - but her affair ultimately marked the end of our marriage.
She agreed to divorce if I took responsibility for over $9,000 of her debts. Wanting to move on, I agreed.
We divorced in 2020 and a few months later in July, she married Cliff. I met my now-wife Katelynn on-line and moved to be with her in Utah.
To minimize disruption for the girls, I let Tranyelle and Cliff take the lease on my apartment. I was trying to keep things civil and thought we'd soon work out a fair custody arrangement.
But when I asked for two weeks over Christmas, Tranyelle snapped, 'That's not happening. Me and Cliff want our first Christmas as a family.'
I got eight days in January. Eventually, I went to court and mediation.
I was granted six weeks over summer, increasing to eight; every other Christmas; every spring break.
I could also visit the girls whenever I wanted with notice; Facetime them five days a week. But Tranyelle often had objections to my visits.
In February 2022, she and Cliff had a daughter, Brooke.
When Katelynn and I were planning our wedding, I wanted Brailey and Olivia as flower girls. It was a midweek wedding; the school approved time off. I was so excited. But Tranyelle was furious. ‘You should have told me first,’ she screamed. ‘You’re trying to kidnap the girls!’
Ultimately, the girls didn’t attend.
In January 2023, Tranyelle and Cliff had another daughter, Jordan. Soon after, Tranyelle was diagnosed with post-partum depression.
In early 2023, when my grandfather was dying of cancer, I asked her if the girls could see him one last time. She refused - I was heartbroken for both my girls and for him.
In February 2024, there was joy in our lives as Katelynn and I welcomed a son, Hudson.
One day, after Brailey finished playing with Tranyelle’s old phone, I picked it up and saw a message from a man. She was having an affair
I met my now-wife Katelynn (pictured with Brailey and Olivia) on-line and moved to be with her in Utah
But by then, I was increasingly worried about the girls.
Our scheduled Facetime calls usually happened in mall car parks, all four girls alone in the car while Tranyelle was in the stores. Brailey often ended up soothing her baby sisters. Tranyelle didn't make the girls wear seat belts either.
When I asked for more time with my daughters, suddenly child support became an issue. The court ordered me to pay more, plus back payments, despite already having paid Tranyelle's debts. 'I was too trusting,' I admitted to Katelynn.
That summer, Katelynn's family planned a big nine-day camping reunion. I was taking the girls but two weeks before, Tranyelle refused. 'I don't feel good about it,' she said by way of explanation.
By the end of 2024, I had reached my breaking point. I decided I wanted full custody. Katelynn vowed to support me.
I thought I would be spending more of my life with my girls - I looked forward to it and steeled myself for the battle I knew it would take. I relished our time over that last Christmas completely oblivious to just how little time I had left with them.
It's been over a year since Tranyelle murdered my daughters along with Jordan and Brooke.
Brailey was killed immediately but Olivia clung to life. She was transferred from Wyoming to hospital in Utah and Katelynn and I rushed to her side.
Olivia had been shot in the head and a dressing covered the wound. The surgeons said they would do an exploratory operation to clean it out and patch up the entry and exit.
I held her hand before surgery and told her I loved her.
Though she was in a coma, I knew my little girl was still there. 'I have to be strong for her,' I choked to Katelynn.
The surgery was successful and we were optimistic. But Olivia's brain swelled. Drugs controlled it temporarily. I never left my baby's bedside, singing to her and praying.
As the days went by Olivia's condition worsened. 'Your daughter is very sick. She needs a miracle,' the surgeon told me.
Hoping it might help, doctors gradually brought Olivia out of her coma. She had massive brain seizures. There was no hope. I knew it was time to let her go.
I cradled Olivia like a baby as life support was withdrawn. Her breathing slowed, then stopped.
I said a quiet prayer: 'Lord, let her be with her sister.' It was February 15th.
Knowing my girls were together gave me some peace though physically they were still apart. Brailey was in a funeral home hundreds of miles away where her mother lived. It took six days for Brailey's body to be transported to our local one.
Seeing her was like being punched in the face. Makeup covered the damage but she was badly bruised.
My girls had been inseparable in life so I chose for them to be in one casket.
Before the funeral, Katelynn dressed them in white; painted their nails pink and purple; added butterfly stickers.
Olivia was laid in the casket first. When Brailey was placed beside her, her arm fell across her sister, just like when they slept.
'Leave them like that,' I choked.
At the graveside, we pressed our palm prints onto the casket and released hundreds of pink and purple balloons.