He Won A Million Dollars At A Casino, K!Lled His Wife, And Got Life In Prison 

…

Three golden sevens in a row.

The numbers on the display seemed unreal.

$1,000,000.

People began to gather around.

Some applauded, some took pictures.

Casino employees approached with documents and congratulations.

Martin stood frozen, staring at the screen.

Sir, congratulations.

This is the biggest win in our casino in the last 3 years, the manager said, extending his hand.

We’ll need to fill out some paperwork.

2 hours later, Martin left the casino with a million dollar check in his pocket.

His hands were shaking.

His heart was pounding so hard he was afraid he was having a heart attack.

This was impossible.

Things like this happen to other people, not him.

At home, Sandra was waiting for him with dinner.

She glanced angrily at her watch.

Where have you been? The food is cold.

Sandra, sit down.

I need to tell you something.

She saw the look on his face and was frightened.

What’s wrong? Did you get fired? Martin took out the check and placed it on the kitchen table.

Sandra looked at the paper, then at him, then back at the paper.

Is this real? A million dollars? I won a million dollars.

Sandra stared at the check silently for a few seconds, then slowly sank into a chair, her eyes filled with tears.

My god, Martin.

My god.

Two weeks had passed since the evening Martin brought home the million-doll check.

During that time, their apartment on Jefferson Avenue had turned into a headquarters for planning their new life.

Stacks of bank documents, investment brochures, and shopping lists that Sandra compiled every evening lay on the kitchen table.

Martin no longer went to the construction site.

On the first Monday after the win, he called Thompson and said he was quitting.

No explanation, no two weeks notice, just the end.

Now, he spent his days studying bank offers and reading articles on how to manage money properly.

“We need a plan,” he told Sandra on Saturday morning, laying out another stack of documents in front of her.

“We can’t just spend money recklessly.

Look at those people who won the lottery and went bankrupt 5 years later.

” Sandra sat in her bathrobe holding a cup of coffee.

She was still working at SaveMart.

Martin had told her to wait to quit until they had sorted out all their financial issues, but her shifts seemed pointless now.

Why stand at a cash register for 8 hours for $100 when they had a million? Maybe we should buy a house, she suggested.

A real house with a yard.

I’ve always dreamed of that.

It’s too soon.

First, we need to get everything in order.

Taxes, investments, then we can think about a house.

Martin spoke with the authority of someone who had studied the subject.

In two weeks, he had read more financial literature than in his entire previous life.

He kept a separate notebook where he recorded all expenses and plans.

Even a trip to the grocery store now required his approval.

Why do we need to buy expensive fish? He asked yesterday, looking at the supermarket receipt.

Tuna at $12 a can is a waste of money.

Sandra didn’t argue, but she felt uncomfortable.

Martin had won the money, so technically it belonged to him.

But weren’t they a family? Didn’t 15 years of marriage mean anything? On Thursday, David Coleman, a family lawyer recommended by the bank, came to see them.

Martin found his contact information online, read the reviews, and made an appointment for financial planning and asset protection.

David was a 45-year-old man with graying temples and an expensive suit.

He arrived in a BMW and carried himself with the professional confidence of someone who was used to dealing with money.

“Congratulations on your win,” he said, sitting down at the kitchen table.

“Cases like this are rare, and it’s important to get everything right from the start.

” Martin showed him all the documents and told him about his plans and concerns.

Sandra sat nearby, mostly silent.

The lawyer asked questions mainly to Martin, occasionally glancing at her.

“The first thing I recommend is to structure the assets in such a way as to protect them from possible claims,” David said.

“Create trusts.

Structure your investments correctly.

” “What about taxes?” Martin asked.

“We can help with that.

There are legal ways to minimize your tax burden.

” Sandra listened to their conversation and felt herself gradually being excluded from the process.

They talked about asset protection and structuring, but no one asked for her opinion.

When she tried to interject a comment about buying a house, David nodded politely, but immediately returned to his conversation with Martin.

“I need to review all the documents in more detail,” the lawyer said before leaving.

“I’ll prepare a preliminary plan and call you in a couple of days.

” He left a gold embossed business card with his cell phone number.

Call anytime if you have any questions.

After he left, Sandra felt a strange irritation.

Not at Martin, not at the lawyer, but at the situation as a whole.

2 hours ago, she had been an equal participant in the conversation about their future together.

Now she felt like an observer.

He seems competent, Martin said, leafing through the brochures David had left behind.

Yes, but maybe we should consult someone else, get a second opinion.

Why? He has excellent references, and the bank recommends him.

Sandra nodded, but something in Martin’s tone bothered her.

He spoke as if he had already made up his mind, as if her consent was a formality.

Elellanar McBride noticed the changes in the Walsh family almost immediately.

In the first week after the win, she saw them buying new appliances, a big TV, a new refrigerator.

Martin stopped leaving for work at 6:00 in the morning, and Sandra started coming back from the store by taxi instead of the bus.

“Something’s happened to them,” she told her friend Dorothy on the phone.

Martin ordered pizza yesterday, expensive pizza with seafood, and they always used to count every dollar.

Ellie was an observant woman.

In her 20 years living in the building, she had learned to notice details that others missed, the intonation of voices behind the wall, the time when the lights came on in the windows, the frequency of arguments and reconciliations.

Over the last few days, something had changed in the rhythm of life in apartment 4B.

Martin and Sandra had started talking more quietly, but more often.

She heard snippets of conversations about money, banks, plans.

Once they had a visitor, a well-dressed man with an expensive car.

On Friday morning, Ellie met Sandra in the elevator.

She looked tired despite her new dress and fresh hairstyle.

“How are you, dear?” Ellie asked.

“Fine.

Everything’s fine.

” Sandra smiled, but the smile seemed forced.

Is Martin not working anymore? He has other things to do now, business plans.

Ellie nodded, but continued to observe.

In her understanding, happiness made people more open, not more secretive, and Sandra had seemed secretive in recent days.

On Saturday evening, Martin sat at the kitchen table with a calculator and a table of investment funds.

Sandra was reading a magazine on the sofa.

David called today, he said without looking up.

He wants to meet on Monday to discuss the details.

Okay.

He also said it would be better not to tell our friends and relatives about the win, at least for now.

Sandra looked up from her magazine.

Why? Safety.

People will start asking to borrow money, coming up with all kinds of schemes.

It’s better to keep it a secret for now.

What about your sister? She should know that we can pay back the debt.

Later, when everything is official, Sandra wanted to argue but held back.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe caution was really important.

But why did she feel like she was part of some conspiracy against her own life? At night, lying in bed, she listened to Martin breathing beside her.

He was sleeping soundly, the sleep of a man who was finally in control of the situation.

She couldn’t sleep, thinking about how quickly everything had changed.

Two weeks ago, they had been a team, fighting difficulties together.

Now he was the captain of the ship, and she was a passenger.

A month later, the Walsh apartment began to resemble an office.

Martin turned the bedroom into a study, installing a new computer and a safe for documents.

Every dollar was now accounted for in a special program that he studied in the evenings.

Sandra was still working at SaveMart, although every day she wondered why.

“Until we get everything sorted out, it’s better not to make any drastic changes,” Martin explained every time she brought up the subject of quitting.

David said that sudden changes in lifestyle could attract unnecessary attention.

“David Coleman now called them three times a week.

Sometimes he came with new documents that needed to be signed.

Martin saw him as a savior from financial illiteracy, but Sandra sensed something more than professional interest in the lawyer.

During his second visit, David lingered after the business part of the meeting was over.

“Martin went to the store to buy beer and they were left alone in the kitchen.

“How are you coping with all these changes?” he asked, putting the documents away in his briefcase.

“Fine, it’s just happening so fast.

” I understand.

Sudden wealth can create tension in a family.

I’ve seen it many times.

Sandra looked at him more closely.

David was an attractive man, well-groomed, confident, completely unlike the workers she had known all her life.

When he spoke to her, he looked her straight in the eye, as if her opinion really mattered.

“Martin thinks he’s in control,” she said more quietly.

But sometimes I feel like he forgets about me.

Money changes people, not always for the better.

When Martin returned with the beer, the moment of intimacy was gone, but something between Sandra and David had changed.

Now she had someone to talk to about her doubts.

A week later, David called her at work.

I have a tax optimization proposal, he said.

But it concerns you personally.

Can we meet and discuss it? They met at a cafe near SaveMart during her lunch break.

David ordered her an expensive salad and explained that some of the assets could be transferred to her name for tax benefits.

Technically, this will give you equal rights to dispose of the money, he said, stirring his coffee.

Martin will be able to make decisions, but so will you.

Will he agree? There’s no need to tell him yet.

It’s standard procedure.

We’ll draw up the paperwork and then present it as a done deal.

Sandra was hesitant.

On the one hand, the idea of having equal rights seemed fair.

On the other hand, acting behind her husband’s back felt like betrayal.

“Think about it,” David said, covering her hand with his.

“This is your future, too.

” His touch was warm and confident.

Sandra didn’t pull her hand away.

Their meetings at the cafe became regular.

Formally, they discussed financial issues, but gradually the conversations became more personal.

David talked about his divorce 3 years ago, about how his ex-wife tried to sue him for half of his business.

I realized then that nothing in marriage is forever, he said.

It’s important to protect your interests.

Didn’t you want to save your marriage? I did, but she changed.

or I changed.

People grow in different directions, and that’s normal.

Sandra thought about these words on her way home.

Hadn’t she and Martin grown in different directions? They used to be a team of poor people who dreamed of a better life.

Now, he had become a man with money, and she remained the same cashier.

David began to hint at the possibility of divorce as a liberation from a toxic relationship.

He didn’t pressure her.

He just told stories of clients who had found themselves after separating from controlling partners.

Under Michigan law, you are entitled to half of all assets accumulated during the marriage, he said during one of their meetings, including lottery winnings.

Half a million minus taxes and expenses, but yes, plus alimony if we can prove that your standard of living has declined after the divorce.

The idea seemed unreal.

Half a million dollars was more than she could earn in the rest of her life.

But the price was the destruction of a 15-year marriage.

I don’t know, she said.

Martin isn’t a bad person.

It’s just that money changed him.

And did it change you? Sandra thought about it.

Yes, she had changed too.

She had started to think more about herself, her needs, and her desires.

She used to sacrifice everything for her family.

Now she wanted something for herself.

Martin began to notice changes in his wife’s behavior.

Sandra started staying late at work more often, citing inventory and unscheduled shifts.

When he called her at the store, her colleagues said she was at lunch even though lunchtime was already over.

One evening, he found David’s business card in her purse with a handwritten cell phone number.

Why do you need his personal number? He asked.

He said to call if I had any questions about the documents.

What questions? We discuss everything together.

Sandra shrugged, but Martin saw her quickly look away.

He had known his wife for 15 years and knew how to read her reactions.

The following Thursday, he decided to follow her.

He took the car they had bought the week before and drove to SaveMart during her lunch break.

Sandra left the store, but instead of going to the staff cafeteria, she headed for the parking lot where David was waiting for her in his BMW.

Martin followed them at a distance.

They drove to a cafe in the city center, an expensive place the Walshes never went to.

Through the window, he could see them sitting at a table, talking and laughing.

At one point, David took Sandra’s hand.

Martin gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

15 years of marriage and she was seeing another man and it was the very lawyer he had entrusted with his money.

He didn’t go into the cafe but drove home.

He spent the rest of the day thinking about what to do.

A direct accusation could lead to a scandal and he had no proof of actual infidelity, only suspicions.

In the evening, Sandra returned at the usual time, talking as if nothing had happened about a difficult day at the store.

How are the papers coming along? She asked.

David said we’ll need to sign something next week.

Do you talk to him often? Sometimes about business.

Martin nodded, but inside he was seething.

He began to plan how to test his suspicions.

The next day, he called David’s office under the pretext of an urgent matter.

The secretary said that Mr.

Coleman was in a meeting with a client.

At the same time, Martin knew that Sandra was stuck at work again.

That evening, he checked her phone while she was in the shower.

Her correspondence with David was cautious, but eloquent enough.

Thanks for lunch.

It was nice to talk.

Me, too.

You deserve better.

I don’t know what to do.

It’s so complicated.

Don’t rush.

We have time to think things through.

Martin felt something break inside him.

Money was supposed to solve their problems, but instead it destroyed their marriage.

His wife was planning to leave him, and the lawyer he trusted was seducing her for access to the million dollars.

On Saturday morning, the tension reached a critical point.

Sandra announced that she wanted to quit her job at the store and focus on herself.

“I’m going to hire a personal trainer and sign up for interior design classes,” she said as she folded the laundry.

I’ve always dreamed of doing that.

Who gave you permission to spend our money on nonsense? Martin, we have a million dollars.

A few thousand for classes is not a waste.

It’s my money.

I want it.

I decide what to spend it on.

Sandra froze with the towel in her hands.

Your money.

And who am I? A servant? You’re my wife.

And you’ll do what I say.

I won’t.

Her voice turned cold.

I’m tired of pretending I like this new version of you.

What version? A greedy controller who thinks money gives him the right to boss me around? Martin took a step closer.

There was something in his eyes that made Sandra back away.

And you think you can secretly meet with a lawyer and plan how to sue for half my money? Sandra pald.

What are you talking about? I saw you at the cafe.

I read your messages.

Do you think I’m stupid, Martin? It’s not what you think.

Then what is it? Business meetings, financial planning consultations? They stood facing each other in the bedroom, and between them hung a silence filled with 15 years of accumulated resentment and disappointment.

I want a divorce, Sandra said quietly.

It won’t happen.

Not for you.

Not for your lawyer lover.

He’s not my lover.

See you later.

But you have plans, right? Sandra didn’t answer, and that was her answer.

Forget it, Martin said.

You won’t get a scent from me.

You won’t get a scent.

Martin stood in the bedroom doorway, blocking Sandra’s way out.

That’s for the court to decide, not you, she replied, trying to walk past him.

Martin grabbed her arm.

There won’t be any court.

No divorce.

Let go of me.

Sandra tried to pull her hand away, but his grip was iron.

15 years of hard physical labor had made him much stronger than her.

First, you’ll tell me the truth.

Are you and your lawyer planning to rob me? Martin, you’re hurting me.

He squeezed her hand tighter.

There was something in his eyes that Sandra had never seen before.

The cold fury of a man who felt betrayed.

For 15 years, I worked my ass off to provide for this family.

For 15 years, you complained that we didn’t have any money.

And now that we do, you decide to leave me and take half of it.

It’s not about the money.

Sandra tried to speak calmly, but her voice trembled.

It’s about the fact that you’ve changed.

You’ve become a different person.

I’ve become richer.

Don’t you like that? You’ve become greedy and suspicious.

You control my every move.

Martin pushed her onto the bed.

Sandra fell, hitting her back against the headboard.

And you’ve become a lying [ __ ] who [ __ ] lawyers with my money.

I didn’t sleep with him.

Sandra shouted, getting up from the bed.

We just talked.

About what? About how to rob me.

About how I have rights, that I’m not your property.

Martin stepped toward her and Sandra saw something in his face that truly frightened her.

This was not the man she had married.

This was a stranger with the eyes of a predator.

“You have no right to my money,” he said slowly.

“And you never will.

” Sandra tried to get around him, but Martin blocked her way.

She pushed him in the chest, trying to break free.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her so hard that her head jerked back.

Stand still.

Don’t touch me.

Sandra slapped him across the face with her open palm.

Martin froze for a second, touched his cheek, then punched her.

Sandra fell, hitting her head on the edge of the nightstand.

Blood flowed from the wound on her temple.

“Look what you’ve done to me,” he said, looking at the blood on his knuckles.

Sandra tried to get up, holding her head.

Blood ran down her face onto her white night gown.

Martin, please stop.

But something in him had broken completely.

Maybe it was the sight of blood.

Maybe it was the realization that he had already crossed the line.

He grabbed the heavy lamp from the nightstand.

This is all your fault, he said almost calmly.

“You made me do this.

” Sandra raised her hands, trying to defend herself, but the base of the lamp struck her temple.

She fell and did not get up again.

Martin stood over his wife’s body, breathing heavily.

The lamp slipped from his hands and fell onto the carpet.

Silence rained in the room, broken only by the ticking of the alarm clock on the nightstand.

For the first few minutes, he couldn’t believe what had happened.

Sandra lay motionless, her eyes open, but there was no life in them.

Blood slowly spread across the carpet, forming a dark stain.

Sandra,” he called softly, as if she could answer.

Reality came in waves.

First, the realization that his wife was dead.

Then, the realization that he had killed her.

Then, panic at the thought of the consequences.

He was a murderer.

He would go to prison.

A million dollars, a new life, all his plans, all gone in a second.

Martin paced around the apartment, not knowing what to do.

Should he call an ambulance, say it was an accident? But who would believe him? The bruises on Sandra’s arms, the broken lamp, their argument yesterday that the neighbors might have heard.

Half an hour later, his panic turned into a desperate plan for survival.

He couldn’t stay and explain to the police what had happened.

He had to run.

Martin hastily packed a bag with clothes and documents.

He took all the cash that was in the house, about $3,000.

He left his bank cards behind.

They could be traced.

Before leaving, he took one last look at Sandra.

She was lying in the same position, the blood already beginning to darken and clot.

Martin felt nausea rising in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and quickly left the apartment.

In his haste, he forgot to lock the door.

The door remained a jar, swaying in the draft from the hallway.

Elellanar McBride noticed the open door of apartment 4B around 2:00 in the afternoon.

She was returning from the grocery store and saw that the Walsh door was open about a quarter of the way.

It was strange.

Martin and Sandra always locked the apartment carefully.

At first, Ellie thought they were airing out the place or taking out the trash, but half an hour passed and the door remained open.

The hallway was quiet with none of the usual sounds of life.

Television, conversation, footsteps.

“Sandra,” she called, moving closer to the door.

“Martin, is everything okay?” There was no answer.

Ellie pushed the door open and peaked into the hallway.

Everything looked normal.

Shoes were neatly arranged on the rug.

Jackets were hanging on the coat rack, but there was an uneasy silence like in an empty house.

Sandra, it’s Mrs.

McBride.

Your door is open.

She walked into the living room.

The TV was off and there were unwashed cups from the morning coffee on the kitchen table.

Ellie sensed that something was wrong.

There was a strange smell in the air, metallic, familiar, but she couldn’t figure out what it was.

The bedroom door was a jar.

Ellie went over and peeked inside.

What she saw made her scream.

Sandra was lying on the floor between the bed and the nightstand in a bloodstained night gown.

Her eyes were open but empty.

A broken lamp lay nearby.

There were splatters of blood on the carpet and walls.

Ellie recoiled, pressing her hand to her mouth.

She had seen death many times in her life.

But this was different.

This was not a natural death from illness or old age.

This was violence.

With trembling hands, she took out her cell phone and dialed 911.

Emergency services.

How can I help you? I need the police, Ellie said, trying to control her voice.

There’s a dead woman in the apartment.

I think she’s been murdered.

What is your address? 1247 Jefferson Avenue, apartment 4B.

Don’t touch anything at the scene.

The police will be there in 10 minutes.

Ellie went out into the hallway and sank to the floor near the open door.

Her hands were shaking.

Her heart was pounding.

After 20 years of living in this building, she thought she knew all her neighbors.

But who could have done this to sweet, quiet Sandra? The first police car arrived 8 minutes later.

Two patrol officers went up to the fourth floor where Ellie met them.

“I found her,” she said, pointing to the open door.

“Sandra Walsh.

She’s in the bedroom.

The officers examined the crime scene, confirmed the death, and cordined off the apartment with yellow tape.

One of them called for detectives and a medical examiner.

Detective Michael Rodriguez arrived half an hour later.

At 48, he had been with the Detroit Police Department for 22 years and had seen it all.

Family murders were among the most painful cases.

They destroyed not only the lives of the victims, but entire communities.

Rodriguez was a short, stocky man with a graying mustache and attentive brown eyes.

His colleagues respected him for his methodical approach and his ability to find the truth even in the most confusing cases.

Who found the body? He asked the patrol officers.

A neighbor, Eleanor McBride, 70 years old, lives in the apartment across the hall.

She says she noticed the door was open and decided to check.

Rodriguez approached Ellie who was sitting on a chair in the hallway wrapped in a blanket.

Mrs.

McBride, I’m Detective Rodriguez.

Can you tell me what happened? Ellie repeated her story.

How she noticed the open door, called her neighbors, went into the apartment, and found Sandra.

When was the last time you saw Mr.

and Mrs.

Walsh? Last night.

Martin came home around 6:00.

Sandra was already home.

I saw the lights on.

They were talking loudly, almost shouting about what? I’m not sure.

Something about money and about some lawyer.

Rodriguez wrote this down in his notebook.

A family quarrel over money was a classic motive for domestic murder.

And this morning, I didn’t see them, but it’s strange.

Martin usually went out to the car around 9:00 in the morning.

He didn’t go out today.

The detective entered the apartment where forensic experts were already at work.

The medical examiner was examining the body and the photographer was taking pictures of the crime scene.

“What do you think?” Rodriguez asked the medical examiner.

“A woman 35 to 40 years old, multiple blunt force trauma to the head.

The murder weapon was probably this lamp.

Time of death: approximately between 9 and 11 in the morning.

” Rodriguez examined the bedroom.

Signs of a struggle were evident.

An overturned chair, blood splattered on the walls, the victim’s torn night gown.

There were bruises on Sandra’s arms.

Someone had held her down by force.

In the living room, he found documents related to a large lottery win.

Bank statements showed that a million dollars had been deposited into the family’s account a month ago.

So, a lot of money came in, the detective muttered.

Where’s the husband? The search for Martin Walsh began immediately.

His description was sent to all patrol cars and local hospitals and motel were checked, but Martin seemed to have vanished.

His car was found in the parking lot of the bus station.

Video cameras showed him buying a bus ticket to Chicago, departing at 11:30 am “So, we have a time frame,” Rodriguez said to his partner, Detective Johnson.

The murder happened between 9 and 11.

At 11:00, he was already boarding the bus.

“Panic! He killed his wife and ran right away.

The question is where he ran to.

You can go anywhere from Chicago.

” Rodriguez contacted the Chicago police and asked them to check the bus station cameras.

He also sent a request to banks about attempts to withdraw money from Martin’s cards.

While the search for the fugitive was underway, detectives continued to gather evidence.

Neighbors confirmed that loud voices had been heard coming from the Walsh apartment the night before.

Sandra’s colleagues at SaveMart reported recent changes in her behavior.

She had become pensive and often took long lunch breaks.

Sandra’s phone contained correspondence with lawyer David Coleman.

The messages were cautious but suggested a close relationship and plans for divorce.

By evening, the picture was becoming clearer.

Martin Walsh had a motive.

His wife was planning a divorce and claiming half of their new wealth.

He had the opportunity.

They were alone at home on Saturday morning.

And he had a propensity for violence as evidenced by the bruises on the victim’s body.

All that remained was to find him.

Monday brought Detective Rodriguez the first serious results of the investigation.

At the Detroit Police Department, he met with David Coleman, a lawyer whose contact information was found in the victim’s phone.

David came voluntarily, but he was clearly nervous.

The usually impeccably dressed lawyer looked troubled, his tie was crooked, and he had dark circles under his eyes.

Mr.

Coleman, tell me about your relationship with Sandra Walsh.

Rodriguez began the interrogation.

I’m their family lawyer.

I advised them on financial matters after they won the lottery.

Just advised them? David paused before answering.

Rodriguez could see the lawyer weighing his words.

In recent weeks, Sandra has been coming to me for advice on personal matters.

Her marriage was going through a rough patch.

What kind of rough patch? Martin became controlling after receiving the money.

Sandra felt excluded from all decisions.

She asked about her rights in the event of a possible divorce.

Rodriguez showed him printouts of messages from Sandra’s phone.

You wrote to her.

You deserve better.

Is that professional advice from a lawyer? David pald as he read his own messages.

I may have become too emotionally involved in her situation.

Sandra was unhappy in her marriage.

As a lawyer, I’ve seen many similar cases.

And as a man, a long pause.

Sandra was an attractive, intelligent woman who found herself in a difficult situation.

Yes, we developed feelings for each other, but we never crossed any lines.

What lines? You met with her alone.

Business meetings discussing the divorce.

Mr.

Coleman, we are searching the entire country for the husband of a brutally murdered woman.

If you are hiding something, it’s better to say so now.

David wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Okay.

Yes, I was in love with Sandra and she had feelings for me, too.

We planned to start a relationship after her divorce, but we didn’t sleep together.

I swear.

and the divorce.

Sandra was entitled to half of all assets, including the winnings.

Under state law, that’s about $500,000 plus alimony.

Rodriguez wrote down every word.

The motive was becoming clearer.

Did Martin know about this? I suspect so.

Last week, Sandra said he had become suspicious and was following her.

After questioning the lawyer, Rodriguez met with Ellie McBride at her apartment.

The 70-year-old woman had recovered from the shock, but still looked shaken.

“I’ve known this family for 5 years,” she said, offering the detective tea.

“Martin was always a quiet, hardworking man, and Sandra was such a sweet girl.

Did you notice any changes in their behavior after they won?” Of course.

At first, they were happy.

They bought new things and made plans.

But then something went wrong.

Ellie recounted her observations from the last few weeks.

How Martin had become gloomy and suspicious.

How Sandra had started to look unhappy.

In the last month, they often argued.

They didn’t shout, but they spoke tensely.

And that lawyer came too often for business meetings.

What do you mean? Well, he’s a handsome man, and Sandra is a woman.

I saw her combing her hair before his visits.

Ellie turned out to be a valuable witness.

Her testimony confirmed the version of a family conflict over money and possible infidelity.

Meanwhile, bank documents revealed the full picture of the financial motive.

A million dollars was indeed in the couple’s joint account, but Martin had made most of the investments in his own name.

In a divorce, Sandra could claim a maximum of3 to $400,000, but even that was an unacceptable loss for Martin.

On the third day of the investigation, news came from Chicago.

Bus station cameras had captured Martin buying a ticket to Milwaukee.

The Wisconsin police joined the search.

On Thursday morning, Martin Walsh was arrested in a cheap motel on the outskirts of Milwaukee.

He was sitting in his room watching the news about his own manhunt and drinking whiskey from a plastic cup.

He did not resist arrest.

“I knew you would find me,” he told detectives upon his arrest.

Rodriguez flew to Milwaukee to personally escort the suspect back to Detroit.

On the plane, Martin was silent, staring out the window at the clouds.

“Would you like to tell us what happened? What’s the point? You already know everything.

Your version may help in court.

Martin smiled bitterly.

My version? I worked like a dog for 20 years to provide for my family.

I won a million dollars and my wife decided to leave me for a lawyer in a suit.

That’s my version.

Why did you kill her? A long pause.

I don’t know.

I just snapped.

She said she was taking half the money and I realized I was going to lose everything.

the money, my wife, my future, and I just snapped.

The trial began 6 months later.

The defense tried to get him convicted of manslaughter, citing emotional distress and family problems, but the evidence was irrefutable.

Ellie McBride testified as a key witness.

Despite her advanced age, she clearly and in detail told the court how she found the body and what she had observed in recent weeks.

Martin changed after winning.

She said he became greedy and suspicious and Sandra became unhappy.

David Coleman admitted to an emotional connection with the victim but denied physical intimacy.

His testimony confirmed Sandra’s plans to divorce and her right to half of the winnings.

Experts reconstructed the murder from physical evidence.

Bruises on Sandra’s arms, blood spatters, a broken lamp.

Everything pointed to a violent murder during a domestic dispute.

Martin did not deny his guilt, but asked the court to take into account his remorse and lack of a criminal record.

In the dock, he looked like a broken man who had lost everything.

“I loved Sandra,” he said in his final statement.

“We were a family for 15 years.

I didn’t want to kill her.

I just couldn’t let her go.

” The jury deliberated for 4 hours and returned a verdict of guilty of first-degree murder.

The judge sentenced Martin Walsh to life in prison without the possibility of parole.

“You took the life of a woman who lived with you for 15 years,” the judge said as he handed down the sentence.

“No amount of money can justify such cruelty.

” “The million-doll jackpot became the subject of lengthy legal disputes.

By law, the money should have gone to Sandra’s closest relatives, her sister Linda, but part of the money went to pay for lawyers, court costs, and compensation for victims.

In the end, Linda received about $600,000.

She used part of the money to give her sister a dignified funeral and to establish the Sandra Walsh Domestic Violence Victim Assistance Fund.

David Coleman left Detroit after the trial.

The scandal damaged his reputation and he opened a small practice in another state.

In an interview with a local newspaper, he said, “I still blame myself.

If I hadn’t advised her to file for divorce, she might still be alive.

” Ellie McBride became a local celebrity after the case was covered in the press.

Journalists called her a guardian angel who helped catch the killer, but she herself did not see anything heroic in her actions.

I was just a good neighbor, she said.

It’s just a shame I couldn’t help sooner.

In prison, Martin spent his days reading books and working in the library.

He wrote several letters of apology to Sandra’s sister, but she did not respond.

Sometimes he thought about how things could have been different if he hadn’t gone to the casino that night.

If he had won less money, if he had managed to keep his family together instead of destroying it.

But these thoughts only led to more pain.

A million dollars was supposed to be the beginning of a new life, but it became the end of everything he had.

In cell number 247 of the Michigan State Penitentiary, former construction worker Martin Walsh spent his days reflecting on the price of a dream that had turned into a nightmare.

Outside the prison walls, life went on.

And in Detroit, new families dreamed of big money.

Unaware of the destructive power that sudden wealth could have, the story of Martin and Sandra Walsh serves as a warning that winning the lottery does not always mean winning in life.

Sometimes the greatest luck can turn into the worst tragedy.

According to ABS data, that’s the Australian Bureau of Statistics, an estimated 2.

7 million Australians have experienced being stalked.

When you drill down into those numbers a little deeper, and it turns out 1 in five women and one in 15 men have been stalked, with women almost eight times more likely to be stalked by a man, while men are stalked similarly by both genders.

The types of women who are most likely to be stalked are young, who are students, who rent their home, and those experiencing financial stress.

Over three quarters of those women who reported having been stalked knew the man who was following them.

The most common perpetrator is an intimate partner, both current and former.

Half of the women who were stalked by a male intimate partner were assaulted or threatened with assault.

The majority received unwanted contact via the internet, phone, or in the mail.

60% experienced their stalker just turning up wherever they were.

52% were followed or tracked.

Samantha Stites experienced all of these things.

And then, despite attempts to stop it, it got much, much worse.

I’m Claire Murphy and this is True Crime Conversations, a podcast exploring the world’s most notorious crimes by speaking to the people who know the most about them.

Samantha Stites fit all the criteria you just heard for a woman most likely to be stalked.

She was young, a student at Grand Valley State University in Michigan.

She rented an apartment with one of her good friends and until she met Christopher Thomas was planning a future of adventure, of career goals and exploring her faith.

But a meeting at a Christian group would change her life for the next 13 years.

While Samantha lived her life, Christopher watched.

While she ate, slept, worked, celebrated, grieved, no matter what life event she experienced, Christopher Thomas watched it.

His obsession with the girl he thought he’d one day marry, persisting even through a long-term restraining order.

Then one day in 2022, Christopher took his obsession to a whole new level, breaking into Sam’s home and taking her prisoner.

What Samantha endured in the hours she spent locked in a soundproof box in a storage facility not far from her home is shocking.

But her resilience and ability to think straight in the face of horror would see her not only be set free, but finally show the system that had failed her that she would not allow Christopher Thomas to beat her.

Samantha joins us now.

Thanks for joining us here in Australia.

>> Yeah, pleasure.

Pleasure to be here.

It’s I know your morning there, my evening here in the US, but happy to be here.

Thanks for the conversation.

>> First of all, we want to say thank you for actually being here, being here, because there was a moment in your life where you didn’t know if you would be here speaking to me today as you are.

So, thank you for surviving what you’ve survived and living to tell the tale and using that opportunity to help us understand the dangers of stalking a little bit better.

We really do appreciate it.

I guess we should start from the beginning.

Can you take us back to when you’re in college and you join a Christian group? Like, what was Sam like then? What were your hopes and dreams for the future? What was your life looking like before Christopher stepped into it? >> Yeah, I let’s see.

College.

I am 33 now.

So, this was um I graduated high school in 2009.

So, started college kind of right off the bat from there.

Um I wasn’t sure what I wanted to study.

I thought something kind of in the math and science realm.

I was always a big athlete.

Um, and in college I chose to go to like a larger university and and not play sports and just focus on academics and, you know, do some inter mural sports on the side, things like that.

I had a really hard time kind of finding a social group when I first started college.

Uh, my freshman year was really difficult.

Um, and then by my sophomore year, I had found this Christian group on campus.

I didn’t identify as a Christian.

Um, but the people I met were just so genuine and caring.

Um, that I kind of got, you know, swept up into their group and learning, you know, about what they believed and I kind of joined this Christian group and it sort of became a, you know, a big cornerstone of my, you know, education experience in college.

So, a lot different than a lot of university students that are, you know, partying and drinking all the time.

I was leading Bible studies, you know, going to church.

We were playing Frisbee on the weekends or um like American football, things like that.

Um, and I met Christopher my must have been my junior year.

I was there for five years, so I kind of get confused sometimes which year was which, but must have been my third year when I met him um in the fall.

We had been just playing frisbee at my off-campus apartment um in some green space there and um he had come out and joined us to play.

There were I don’t know maybe six of us.

Um, and so we kind of introduced one another and you know, what’s your name, what are you studying, kind of the basics.

Um, and I could tell he was significantly older than me.

Like he wasn’t a traditional student.

He was, you know, six or eight years older than me.

Um, which automatically you think somebody is going to have a harder time, you know, fitting in.

So, we were all about trying to make ourselves and our campus welcoming for new students and, you know, if they’re interested in our group to, you know, promote that as well.

And, um, I can just noticed he was a really awkward guy, would have trouble making friends.

I just kind of offered kindness to him.

And I don’t really remember a lot about meeting him.

I just thought this is some guy who lives at this apartment complex and I, you know, it’s possible I’ll see him again at the bus stop, but I didn’t really think, you know, too much about it.

>> Had you had many like high school relationships with boys or like what was your experience like before Christopher? What was your understanding of like relationships between men and women and and negotiating that? Had you had any experience in that area before? >> Yeah, I had been in a couple relationships.

I guess the longest was like a year.

Um, you know, I was really focused on academics.

I wasn’t, you know, super into dating in college.

I was pretty focused.

Um, I, you know, he wouldn’t have been anyone I ever would have had interest in, um, you know, based on his looks or his personality really any of it.

you know, I had zero romantic interest.

Um, and it didn’t take too long really before I found out that he, you know, either he thought that he could be a friend to me or we could be friends or maybe more than that.

I could see that there was interest on his end.

Um, after a while, you know, back in that day in 2011, 2012, especially on a college campus, you’d add somebody on Facebook once you met them and, you know, kind of build your social connections that way.

Um, and I noticed after a few days he had messaged me um, on that platform, which I thought was kind of weird, but I’m like, I don’t know, people who aren’t very social in person sometimes have an easier time, you know, messaging behind a keyboard.

And, um, it was just very like, “Hey, how’s your day going? It was really nice meeting you the other day.

” Kind of really basic things, but I didn’t I didn’t think too much of it.

I mean, he was kind of an awkward guy, so, you know, I gave him a pass.

And maybe compared to other people, I maybe would have been more dismissive, but to him, I was like, he’s just awkward, doesn’t really know social cues very well.

I was trying to be kind to him.

>> That’s the reason I asked because you were very diplomatic in your dealings with Christopher at the beginning because he was very persistent.

And in the documentary, you can see how many messages he sent and how many times he asked you to either go somewhere with him or um you know have a date with him and you very kindly and politely dismissed those advances and it seems like it didn’t matter what you said and at the beginning it seemed like you would kind of put him off rather than completely cut him off which I know that a lot of women struggle with because you don’t want to sometimes outright say no to somebody because you don’t know how that will impact them or how they might respond to that.

Was there ever a feeling when you were trying to kind of let him down easy that was it more just like you were being kind to someone who was socially awkward or was there anything in the back of your mind, any red flags that you can look back on potentially now that made you think maybe I shouldn’t confront this person in that way? >> There really weren’t any red flags to me, you know, at that time, you know, thinking I was 20 maybe 20 years old.

Um, you know, this was before the Me Too movement.

This was like in sort of a Christian setting where I felt like I had to be kind and welcoming to newcomers and be, you know, a nice, polite person, which I was trying to do, you know, regardless.

Um, I didn’t really, it didn’t strike me as he was, you know, that this would ever go down this path of stalking.

It was just somebody who doesn’t really have friends, is new on campus, doesn’t really get social cues.

So, I’m not going to, you know, shut him down hard at the beginning and have somebody, you know, I don’t want to be labeled, you know, a [ __ ] or, you know, something like that.

I want to, you know, be kind to people and, you know, give him respect if I’m not interested.

He does ask me out, you know, do it in as many ways to say, you know, I’m busy.

he must get the picture.

I don’t ever want to spend time with him.

I always have an excuse, you know, and then I start saying, you know, I’m not interested um more clearly.

And it takes some time really before I realize that it’s not just that he’s socially awkward and doesn’t get it, but that he’s ignoring my wishes.

And that’s kind of where things start to go a little sideways and really where I start to notice that it’s more irritating.

Um, at the beginning for me, it was more irritating than frightening.

I think >> you remember when that shift happened like what was he doing? There was a lot of messaging on Facebook.

In the documentary, you explain an experience where he’s kind of come to your workplace with flowers, even though you’d made it very clear that you were not interested in him in any way, shape, or form.

Like, where did it start to turn from you being kind to someone who wasn’t quite understanding to it being this is not right? Um, I would say it was that kind of altercation at the bus stop we had where he showed up to my um, workplace in college with flowers after my grandpa had died.

He had heard through the grape vine or potentially social media or something that, you know, my grandpa had passed away.

And at this point, I had blocked him his phone number.

I had blocked him on email and like multiple mediums.

I had told him very clearly in person and you know via text or messaging like I I’m not interested.

Please leave me alone.

Um and then he shows up again in person.

Um and I just think I’ve told you so many different ways that I like I’m I’m speaking English like you’re understanding me.

This isn’t somebody who’s not getting it anymore.

it’s somebody who doesn’t care to listen to what I’m asking them.

Um, and I that was really the first time I had kind of experienced that where, you know, it’s different than like a sibling or a friend like put your dirty dishes in the dishwasher.

It’s like you’re asking personal space and for someone to leave you alone and they’re not doing that.

And it’s not that they’re not understanding the clues you’re trying to put.

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