Gheonna Lacy had just finished her overnight shift caring for residents at a group home in Racine, Wisconsin. It was still dark on the morning of January 16, 2026 when she stepped outside near Golf Avenue and Windsor Drive to start her car and head home to her two young children—and the third one she was carrying. In those few quiet moments before dawn, two hooded figures appeared without warning. One gripped a baseball bat. What happened next was captured in fragments on a neighbor’s doorbell camera: the attackers closing in swiftly, Lacy’s piercing screams filling the frigid air, and the repeated, sickening impact of the bat against her body. The blows were not random. They were directed straight at her pregnant belly in what she believes was a deliberate attempt to kill her unborn child.

Lacy reacted with pure maternal instinct. She dropped to the ground and curled tightly around her abdomen, absorbing strike after strike to protect the life inside her. “They knocked me down immediately and just kept swinging that bat,” she said in a trembling hospital interview with WISN 12 News, speaking through FaceTime from her bed. “They stomped on me, hit me everywhere—but mostly they went for my stomach, for my baby.” The attackers fled only after she was left battered on the pavement. Somehow, despite excruciating pain and bleeding, she managed to reach her phone and call for help.

Paramedics arrived quickly and rushed her to the hospital. Doctors soon delivered the news that offered a sliver of hope amid the horror: her baby is stable and expected to survive. Lacy herself was not so fortunate. She suffered serious injuries including heavy bruising, possible broken bones, and deep psychological trauma. She remains hospitalized with a long and uncertain recovery ahead. Returning to the night-shift job she once loved now feels impossible; the simple act of walking to her car alone fills her with dread.

Racine Police Department’s Violent Crimes Unit launched an immediate investigation. As of January 18, 2026, no arrests have been made. Lacy told detectives she recognized the voice and build of one attacker—a woman who had been stalking and harassing her for months over a bitter relationship dispute. The second assailant, a man, is unknown to her. Police continue to analyze the doorbell footage, interview potential witnesses, and search for any additional video or vehicle descriptions that could identify the suspects. They are asking the public for any information, no matter how small.

This was no random crime. The assault stemmed directly from ongoing stalking that had escalated to lethal violence. Lacy says the female suspect had sent unwanted messages, appeared unexpectedly at places she frequented, and made increasingly menacing comments—all fueled by jealousy and rage tied to a past romantic connection. When Lacy became pregnant, that obsession apparently turned deadly. Targeting her unborn child was not an accident; it was the ultimate expression of control and vengeance.

Stalking statistics paint a grim picture. Across the United States, millions of people—most of them women—experience stalking each year. Pregnancy frequently heightens the risk, as abusers or obsessive individuals sometimes view an unborn baby as a permanent obstacle or a symbol of everything they have lost. In Wisconsin, intentionally causing harm to a fetus is a separate felony, often carrying penalties equal to or greater than those for injuring the mother. If prosecutors can establish a pattern of prior harassment and prove intent to kill the child, the female suspect could face charges including attempted homicide, aggravated battery, battery to an unborn child, and stalking while armed with a dangerous weapon.

The choice of weapon—a baseball bat—adds another layer of personal brutality. Unlike a gun or knife, a bat requires close proximity and sustained effort. Each swing was an act of raw anger. Yet the consistent focus on Lacy’s abdomen suggests chilling premeditation: the attackers wanted to end the pregnancy by force.

Lacy’s life revolves around caring for others. At work she spends long nights supporting vulnerable residents who need reliable, compassionate help. At home she raises her two children with fierce devotion, and now she fights every day to bring her third safely into the world. Friends describe her as someone who always puts family first. That same protective instinct is what kept her baby alive during those terrifying minutes on the cold ground.

The community has responded with an outpouring of support. A GoFundMe campaign launched by loved ones has already collected donations to help pay for medical bills, lost income, and future security measures she may need. Messages of encouragement flood the page: expressions of admiration for her strength, prayers for her healing, and calls for swift justice. Local news stations have kept the story in the spotlight, airing her hospital interview and urging viewers to come forward with tips.

This case forces difficult conversations about women’s safety, especially for those working late hours or facing persistent harassment. Night-shift employees often walk alone to dark parking lots with little protection. Many stalking victims report feeling dismissed by authorities until violence occurs. Advocacy groups stress the importance of documenting every unwanted contact—texts, calls, sightings—and seeking protective orders without delay. Workplaces are being encouraged to improve lighting, offer escort policies, and provide personal alarms for staff leaving at odd hours.

Gheonna Lacy’s survival is already a victory. She protected her child when every instinct screamed danger. Now she faces months of physical therapy, emotional healing, and the anxiety that comes with knowing her attackers remain free. Yet she refuses to stay silent. By sharing her story she hopes to warn others: stalking is never harmless jealousy. When ignored or minimized, it can explode into life-threatening violence—especially against pregnant women.

Racine police continue their urgent search for leads. Detectives emphasize that even the smallest detail—a suspicious vehicle, a familiar face, a overheard conversation—could break the case open. The public is asked to contact the department directly with any information.

In the hospital, surrounded by family and friends, Gheonna focuses on the two miracles that keep her going: her baby’s strong heartbeat and the unbreakable love she has for her children. She did not just survive that morning; she fought with everything she had to ensure her third child would have a chance at life. Her courage in those terrifying seconds, and her willingness to speak out now, stand as powerful reminders of what a mother will endure to protect her own.

Anyone with information about this assault is urged to reach out to the Racine Police Department immediately. Gheonna Lacy’s recovery continues one day at a time—supported by a community that refuses to let this crime go unanswered.