Father killed mother but tried to frame ME by saying he saw me holding a knife

HAYLEE Cole, now 31, was just 12 years old when her mother Tami, 41, was murdered by her father Brad Reay, 47.

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

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Here, Haylee exclusively tells her story and how she became a victims’ rights activist

When I woke up and saw that my mother was nowhere to be seen, I felt a great sense of unease. My father told me that she had run off with another man and might be gone for days.

I knew something was terribly wrong because she would never leave me.

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

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

When I was growing up, my father didn’t spend much time with me.

He was only interested in work and fishing, and we didn’t really have a good relationship.

In the meantime, my mother and I had become very close. As an only child, I didn’t know how to go on without her.

A week before my mother’s murder, my parents invited me over and my mother told me they were getting a divorce.

She said it was her decision and she seemed to be doing fine, but her father was upset and in shock.

I couldn’t stop crying because I had no idea it was going to happen.

Dad started acting strangely. He would sit in bed all day without eating or sleeping.

He would take me on car rides and try to turn me against my mother, saying it was all her fault that our family was falling apart.

I felt sorry for him, but I came to realize more and more that the divorce was the best thing for my mother.

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

That afternoon I was called to the principal’s office to talk to my panicked Aunt Raquel on the phone.

Mother spoke to her mother Bonnie every morning without fail, but Bonnie couldn’t reach her that day and she and Raquel were worried.

I told them that I had last seen her the night before and that her purse and phone were still on the counter.

My aunt explained that they had a feeling something was wrong and that they had called the supermarket where mother worked, but she was not there.

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

I was already sick with worry and started to panic.

I was placed in foster care for one night and the next morning a detective visited the foster home and told me that they had opened an investigation into my mother’s disappearance and that my father had been arrested on suspicion of murder, stabbing her 37 times in a horrific attack.

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

I went into shock and couldn’t process what was happening.

When my father was arrested, I never had the chance to confront him.

Within 24 hours, my grandfather Don had driven nine hours to pick me up from our childhood home in South Dakota and I went to live with my mother’s parents in Wyoming, over 500 miles away.

I only had one suitcase full of clothes.

I was completely stunned that my father could have murdered my sweet, caring mother after 13 years of marriage. I had never seen him be violent before, but I later found out that he had been controlling her in a coercive way.

My grandfather told me that my father was obsessed with her, and when he wasn’t working long hours at Walmart, he would “stick” to her like cling wrap, almost as if he were attached to his wife.

My mother’s funeral was the hardest day of my life

Her whole family was completely distraught, but my grandparents tried to stay strong and act strong for me.

Losing my mother in that way was incredibly traumatic, but with the support of my maternal grandparents and aunts – I had no contact with my father’s family – I was determined to become the person I knew my mother wanted me to be.

Father denied killing mother and it took almost a year for the case to come to court.

In January 2007, I walked into court, supported by my grandparents and aunts. My lawyer explained to us that my father blamed me for the murder of my mother.

In the opening statement of the trial, his defense team claimed that he saw me in a trance-like state with a knife at my mother’s bedside after I became angry about the divorce.

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

I was amazed.

I felt used and so angry, but everyone said all I had to do was tell the truth – so I did.

When I had to testify, my father was in his orange jumpsuit taking notes and watching me, trying to intimidate me.

His lawyer kept asking me tough questions and trying to twist my answers, but even though I was scared, I remained strong and determined to get justice for my mother.

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During the trial I also discovered that she had an affair with her colleague Brian and that her father knew about it. That shocked and surprised me enormously.

Fortunately, the jury saw through my father’s lies and found him guilty of murder and sentenced him to life in prison without the possibility of parole.

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

He later tried to appeal this several times, but without success.

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

I was relieved that everything we had been through had been worth it to get justice for my mother.

But I knew I would never forgive him.

I never wanted to see or speak to him again. The last time I saw him was in the courthouse.

Instead, I focused on rebuilding my life and regaining a sense of normalcy.

About a year after the trial, my father and my father’s brother contacted us and we still speak, but they can’t talk about what my father did because it’s too painful.

“I know Mom would have loved being a grandma to my son”

When I was 15, I gave a talk at school about what I had experienced and was overwhelmed by the support of my classmates, who had no idea what had happened.

It inspired me to become a victims’ rights activist and speaker so I could give a voice to my mother and others whose lives were brutally ended.

I met my wonderful husband James in 2012 when he was working at McDonald’s and we had a son who is now six.

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

He knows he had a grandmother, but when he asks where she is, I change the subject, because I can’t tell how she died.

In February, 17 years after my father’s prison sentence ended, I received a phone call from the prison. I assumed he was appealing his sentence again.

When they told me he had passed away, it was a shock.

I felt sad before because he lived such a wasted life.

In addition to my administrative job, I now train law enforcement professionals to work with children who have experienced similar traumas as I have, teaching them that they can make a real difference in their future.

Without my grandparents, I don’t know where I would be now.

I will always be grateful to you.

My grandfather still plays a big role in my life and adores my son.

I often think about my grandmother, who passed away in December at the age of 80.

If I could talk to Mom one more time, I hope she would be proud of what I did to tell her story.