Three days before Christmas, in a quiet suburban home in Highland City, Polk County, Florida, the festive glow of twinkling lights and wrapped presents under a beautifully decorated tree masked a brewing storm that would erupt into unthinkable violence. On the night of December 22, 2025, what began as a petty dispute over changing the TV channel during a Monday Night Football game between the San Francisco 49ers and the Indianapolis Colts escalated into a murder-suicide that left a mother dead, her 13-year-old daughter fighting for life after being shot in the face, and a family irrevocably destroyed. Jason Kenney, a 47-year-old man who had been drinking heavily, allegedly shot his wife, Crystal Kenney, in the head, turned the gun on his stepdaughter despite her desperate pleas, and later took his own life as deputies closed in. This heart-wrenching tragedy, detailed in a somber press conference by Polk County Sheriff Grady Judd, has shocked the nation, highlighting the deadly intersection of domestic tension, substance abuse, and easy access to firearms during what should have been a season of joy.

The Kenney household on Lemon Avenue appeared, from the outside, to embody the American dream—a blended family with a sparkling Christmas tree laden with gifts, symbolizing hope for the holidays. Jason and Crystal shared a one-year-old daughter, while Crystal’s children from a previous relationship—a 12-year-old boy and 13-year-old girl—rounded out the home. Social media glimpses and neighbor accounts painted occasional pictures of normalcy: family outings, children’s smiles, and the routines of suburban life. But beneath this veneer lurked unspoken struggles. Investigators discovered a handwritten note from Crystal to Jason, left open in the home, pleading with him to seek help: “You’re drinking, you’re using cocaine again. This is not the way the family should be. You need God.” Relatives later confided to deputies that Jason had a history of abusive behavior toward Crystal, though no prior police calls or charges existed. Sheriff Judd lamented the irony: “The entire family was destroyed. Our homicide detectives are distraught. When you go in there, there is a beautiful Christmas tree with lots of Christmas presents under it, just like the nuclear family should be.”

The evening unfolded with deceptive calm. Jason had retreated to a shed behind the house, a common spot for him to unwind, where he drank while watching the NFL game. As the matchup neared its conclusion, he entered the living room, insisting on finishing it on the main television. Crystal, perhaps weary from the day or simply wanting a change, suggested turning it off or switching channels. This minor suggestion ignited a fierce argument. Voices rose, tensions flared, and Crystal, recognizing the danger in Jason’s intoxicated state, acted swiftly to protect her children. She urgently told her 12-year-old son to run to a neighbor’s house and call 911. The boy, terrified but obedient, bolted out the door. As he fled, he heard the first gunshot—a sound that would echo in his nightmares forever.

Deputies from the Polk County Sheriff’s Office responded in under five minutes to the frantic 911 call placed just before 11 p.m. What they encountered was a scene of devastation. In the living room, Crystal Kenney lay dead from a single gunshot wound to the head. In a nearby bedroom, her 13-year-old daughter was found bleeding profusely, having suffered two gunshot wounds: one to the shoulder and a far more horrific one to the face. The bullet had struck the bridge of her nose, traveled upward through her skull, and exited the top of her head—a trajectory that medical experts describe as extraordinarily rare for survival. Yet, against staggering odds, the girl was conscious, alert, and able to speak. Their one-year-old half-sister slept peacefully in her crib, miraculously untouched by the chaos.

Sheriff Judd, visibly moved during his December 23 press conference, shared the girl’s chilling account after speaking with her in the hospital. “She said, ‘I begged him, don’t shoot me, don’t shoot me, don’t shoot me, and he shot me anyway,’” Judd recounted, his voice heavy with the weight of her words. This plea, ignored in a moment of blind rage, underscores the betrayal felt by a child toward the man who was her stepfather. Rushed to Lakeland Regional Health, the teenager remains in critical but stable condition, her recovery hailed by Judd as “a Christmas miracle.” Neurosurgical insights suggest that the bullet’s path avoided critical brain centers by mere millimeters—a one-in-a-million fluke that spared her life and preserved her ability to communicate.

Meanwhile, Jason Kenney had fled the scene in his truck before deputies arrived. In a final, ominous act, he called his sister in upstate New York, confessing, “I have done something very, very bad,” and warning that it would be the last time they spoke—he’d soon be on the news. He drove to his late father’s home in Lake Wales, a property still in probate, and barricaded himself in a shed. Deputies, tracking his movements, quickly surrounded the location and called for his surrender. As commands echoed—”Come out!”—a single gunshot rang out from within. Entering the shed, they found Jason dead from a self-inflicted wound to the forehead. Judd later remarked starkly: “Quite frankly, I don’t want to sound sinister, but the only thing he did right that night was shoot himself after those horrible deeds.”

This tragedy resonates deeply because it exposes how everyday frustrations, amplified by alcohol and underlying issues, can spiral into irreversible horror. Domestic violence experts note that holidays often exacerbate tensions—financial stress, family obligations, and increased drinking create a perfect storm. According to the National Domestic Violence Hotline, incidents spike around major events like sports games or celebrations. Firearms in the home compound the risk: The CDC reports that guns are involved in over half of intimate partner homicides, with women like Crystal disproportionately victimized. Crystal’s note reveals a woman who tried to intervene, urging her husband toward redemption, yet found herself trapped in a cycle that ended fatally.

The surviving children—now orphans—face an unimaginable future. The 12-year-old boy, whose quick escape and 911 call likely prevented further catastrophe, the critically injured 13-year-old girl, and the innocent one-year-old have been placed with their maternal grandparents. Trauma specialists warn of long-term effects: PTSD, survivor’s guilt, and trust issues that therapy can mitigate but never fully erase. Community support has surged, with vigils for Crystal and fundraisers for the children’s care, but nothing can restore what was lost.

Sheriff Judd’s words cut to the core: “How does an argument over a television program end up with a murder, an attempted murder, and a suicide? This should never happen.” His plea echoes broader calls for awareness—recognizing red flags like controlling behavior, substance abuse, and isolation. Organizations like The Spring of Tampa Bay note heightened domestic risks during holidays, urging victims to seek help.

In the aftermath, as 2025 closes amid lingering holiday cheer elsewhere, the Kenney case stands as a grim cautionary tale. A mother’s protective instinct saved one child and summoned help; a daughter’s unimaginable resilience preserved her life; a young boy’s bravery alerted authorities. Yet, Jason’s actions obliterated a family poised for Christmas morning magic. The girl’s survival offers a sliver of hope—a “Christmas miracle” amid profound loss—reminding us of human fragility and the urgent need for prevention. As Judd concluded, this destruction was senseless, leaving three children to navigate a world forever altered by one night’s rage.