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You are here: Home / Crime / Mother and Daughter Found Dead in Las Vegas Hotel Room in Apparent Murder-Suicide

Mother and Daughter Found Dead in Las Vegas Hotel Room in Apparent Murder-Suicide

 by Joe Mcdermott

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The Rio Hotel & Casino in Las Vegas, where police say a woman and her 11-year-old daughter were found dead inside a guest room in what authorities are investigating as a suspected murder-suicide.The Rio Hotel & Casino in Las Vegas, where police say a woman and her 11-year-old daughter were found dead inside a guest room in what authorities are investigating as a suspected murder-suicide. Las Vegas Metropolitan Police responded to a welfare check at the property after the pair failed to appear at a scheduled cheer competition. File photo: Pixel Doc, licensed.
LAS VEGAS, NV – A woman and her pre-teen daughter were found dead inside a hotel room at the Rio Hotel & Casino over the weekend in what police describe as a suspected murder-suicide, authorities said Monday.

Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department (LVMPD) officers responded to a welfare check request at about 10:45 a.m. Sunday after family members expressed concern and the pair failed to appear for a scheduled cheer competition, the department said.

Upon arriving at the room, officers and hotel security knocked and called out several times but received no response, according to police. After they initially left the scene, continued prompting by relatives led security staff to re-check the room in the early afternoon. They forced entry and discovered the two bodies inside, police said.
You are here: Home / Crime / Mother and Daughter Found Dead in Las Vegas Hotel Room in Apparent Murder-Suicide

Mother and Daughter Found Dead in Las Vegas Hotel Room in Apparent Murder-Suicide

 by Joe Mcdermott

The Rio Hotel & Casino in Las Vegas, where police say a woman and her 11-year-old daughter were found dead inside a guest room in what authorities are investigating as a suspected murder-suicide.The Rio Hotel & Casino in Las Vegas, where police say a woman and her 11-year-old daughter were found dead inside a guest room in what authorities are investigating as a suspected murder-suicide. Las Vegas Metropolitan Police responded to a welfare check at the property after the pair failed to appear at a scheduled cheer competition. File photo: Pixel Doc, licensed.
LAS VEGAS, NV – A woman and her pre-teen daughter were found dead inside a hotel room at the Rio Hotel & Casino over the weekend in what police describe as a suspected murder-suicide, authorities said Monday.

Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department (LVMPD) officers responded to a welfare check request at about 10:45 a.m. Sunday after family members expressed concern and the pair failed to appear for a scheduled cheer competition, the department said.

Upon arriving at the room, officers and hotel security knocked and called out several times but received no response, according to police. After they initially left the scene, continued prompting by relatives led security staff to re-check the room in the early afternoon. They forced entry and discovered the two bodies inside, police said.

Evidence Points to Murder-Suicide

Preliminary investigation by homicide detectives suggests the mother shot her daughter and subsequently killed herself late Saturday night, law enforcement officials told reporters. A note was found at the scene, though authorities have not released details about its contents.

Names of the victims were not immediately disclosed by police, but family and community groups identified the pair as Tawnia McGeehan and her daughter, 11-year-old Addi Smith, both from West Jordan, Utah. They had traveled to Nevada to attend a cheerleading competition with Utah Xtreme Cheer, and were last seen late Saturday evening near the New York-New York Hotel & Casino on the Las Vegas Strip, according to posts shared by the cheer organization on social media.

Utah Xtreme Cheer later confirmed Addi’s death in a statement expressing profound grief and asking for privacy for the family. “With the heaviest hearts, we share the devastating news that our sweet athlete Addi has passed away,” the group wrote online.

Discovery and Response

The cause of the fatal shootings has been preliminarily classified as a murder-suicide by LVMPD homicide investigators, who said they believe the incident occurred sometime Saturday night, before the pair was reported missing.

Police officials have described the circumstances as “sad and tragic” and indicated that the investigation remains active, with further details expected to be released when available.

As of Monday, authorities had not released the weapon details or other forensic findings, and it was unclear whether neighboring guests heard any disturbance the night of the incident.

Community Response

Friends, family members and members of the cheer community had earlier circulated missing-persons alerts on social media after the pair did not show up for the event and could not be reached. Their belongings, including vehicle keys, reportedly remained at the hotel, prompting concern.

The tragic deaths have drawn attention to the pressures faced by traveling families and the wider issue of mental health, though investigators have not publicly commented on motive or contributing factors.

🚨 They sIapped cuffs on a female SEAL sniper in open court — called her a coward, blamed her for three dead Marines… and thought it was over. Then a four-star admiral walked in, took one look at the chains on her wrists, and the entire courtroom stopped breathing. At Naval Station Norfolk, the air inside the courtroom felt colder than the wind off the harbor. Fluorescent lights hummed over polished wood as Lieutenant Kara Wynn, 28, sat in dress whites at the defense table — posture flawless, face unreadable, hands pressed flat like even a tremor would betray her. Across the aisle, the prosecutor didn’t hold back. He said she abandoned her overwatch near Kandahar. He said she froze. He said three Marines died because she failed to pull the trigger. The gallery murmured. Families stared. Journalists scribbled. The headline had already been written: Female SEAL cracks under fire. They called her a fraud. Said her record was padded. Said the Navy needed to “send a message.” Kara didn’t flinch. Until the bailiff stepped forward with metal cuffs. Her attorney objected — no flight risk, base-restricted, decorated operator. The judge didn’t hesitate. “Standard procedure.” The click of steel around her wrists echoed louder than the accusations. Cameras zoomed in. Someone in the back whispered, “So much for elite.” And then— The courtroom doors opened. Not casually. Not quietly. Deliberately. Every officer in the room straightened at once. An older man in full dress uniform entered, chest heavy with ribbons that silenced the room faster than a gavel ever could. Conversations died mid-breath. Even the judge shifted. Because this wasn’t an observer. It was a four-star admiral. And he wasn’t looking at the prosecutor. He wasn’t looking at the press. He was staring directly at the cuffs on Kara Wynn’s wrists like they were a personal insult. He stopped beside her table. The air felt electric. And in a calm, controlled voice that carried to the back row, he said: “Remove those cuffs. Right now.” Why would a four-star risk his career to interrupt an active court-martial — and what evidence did he bring that could flip the entire case upside down? 👇 Part 2 in the comments.
🚨 They sIapped cuffs on a female SEAL sniper in open court — called her a coward, blamed her for three dead Marines… and thought it was over. Then a four-star admiral walked in, took one look at the chains on her wrists, and the entire courtroom stopped breathing. At Naval Station Norfolk, the air inside the courtroom felt colder than the wind off the harbor. Fluorescent lights hummed over polished wood as Lieutenant Kara Wynn, 28, sat in dress whites at the defense table — posture flawless, face unreadable, hands pressed flat like even a tremor would betray her. Across the aisle, the prosecutor didn’t hold back. He said she abandoned her overwatch near Kandahar. He said she froze. He said three Marines died because she failed to pull the trigger. The gallery murmured. Families stared. Journalists scribbled. The headline had already been written: Female SEAL cracks under fire. They called her a fraud. Said her record was padded. Said the Navy needed to “send a message.” Kara didn’t flinch. Until the bailiff stepped forward with metal cuffs. Her attorney objected — no flight risk, base-restricted, decorated operator. The judge didn’t hesitate. “Standard procedure.” The click of steel around her wrists echoed louder than the accusations. Cameras zoomed in. Someone in the back whispered, “So much for elite.” And then— The courtroom doors opened. Not casually. Not quietly. Deliberately. Every officer in the room straightened at once. An older man in full dress uniform entered, chest heavy with ribbons that silenced the room faster than a gavel ever could. Conversations died mid-breath. Even the judge shifted. Because this wasn’t an observer. It was a four-star admiral. And he wasn’t looking at the prosecutor. He wasn’t looking at the press. He was staring directly at the cuffs on Kara Wynn’s wrists like they were a personal insult. He stopped beside her table. The air felt electric. And in a calm, controlled voice that carried to the back row, he said: “Remove those cuffs. Right now.” Why would a four-star risk his career to interrupt an active court-martial — and what evidence did he bring that could flip the entire case upside down? 👇 Part 2 in the comments.

“TAKE THOSE CUFFS OFF—RIGHT NOW.” They Handcuffed a Female SEAL Sniper in Court—Then a Four-Star Admiral Walked In…

I’m Captain Lena McAdams, U.S. Army. I’ve led convoys through places where the roads were more dangerous than the enemy. I’ve trained soldiers twice my size. I’ve watched scared twenty-year-olds become leaders in weeks because survival demanded it. Yet somehow, in my own hometown, I was still just “the awkward little sister.” I took four days of leave in June to handle something personal. Quietly. On my terms. Ethan and I aren’t the flashy, post-everything kind of couple. We’re steady. We met three years ago in a dusty joint training environment full of acronyms, 0500 wake-ups, and coffee that tasted like regret. What started as respect turned into something rare: a love built on shared grit. We didn’t make some viral engagement announcement. No staged photos. No dramatic kneeling in public. But I wanted to choose something meaningful for him while I was home. Something that said, I see you. I choose you. Out loud. So I made one mistake. I told my family. By the time we walked into that jewelry store, Danielle was already on edge. My older sister has always been the center of gravity — loud, charming, perfectly curated. House. Husband. Kid. Committees. A Facebook life that looks flawless if you don’t zoom in. Me? I chose discipline over applause. Service over spotlight. And apparently, that was unforgivable.
I’m Captain Lena McAdams, U.S. Army. I’ve led convoys through places where the roads were more dangerous than the enemy. I’ve trained soldiers twice my size. I’ve watched scared twenty-year-olds become leaders in weeks because survival demanded it. Yet somehow, in my own hometown, I was still just “the awkward little sister.” I took four days of leave in June to handle something personal. Quietly. On my terms. Ethan and I aren’t the flashy, post-everything kind of couple. We’re steady. We met three years ago in a dusty joint training environment full of acronyms, 0500 wake-ups, and coffee that tasted like regret. What started as respect turned into something rare: a love built on shared grit. We didn’t make some viral engagement announcement. No staged photos. No dramatic kneeling in public. But I wanted to choose something meaningful for him while I was home. Something that said, I see you. I choose you. Out loud. So I made one mistake. I told my family. By the time we walked into that jewelry store, Danielle was already on edge. My older sister has always been the center of gravity — loud, charming, perfectly curated. House. Husband. Kid. Committees. A Facebook life that looks flawless if you don’t zoom in. Me? I chose discipline over applause. Service over spotlight. And apparently, that was unforgivable.

My Sister Slapped Me At The Jewelry Store — Then An Army Colonel Said: Touch Her Again My…

My sister slapped me in the middle of a jewelry store and called me “toy soldier.” She didn’t know an Army Colonel was standing three feet behind her. I was home on leave in Charleston, quietly picking out an engagement gift for the man I planned to marry. No announcement. No spotlight. Just something meaningful. Danielle couldn’t stand it. She’s the golden child — perfect house, perfect posts, perfect life. I’m just the one who joined the Army at eighteen and never asked for applause. The second she realized I was buying something for an engagement, her smile tightened. “Oh wow,” she said loudly, eyeing my uniform. “Did he outrank you, or are you just playing house now, toy soldier?” I ignored it. I’ve handled worse under fire. But when I asked the clerk to show me a band from the locked case, Danielle grabbed my arm and hissed, “You really think you deserve this?” Then she slapped me. In front of strangers. In uniform. The store went silent. Before I could even react, a calm, controlled voice cut through the air. “Touch her again,” he said evenly, “and see what happens.” Danielle turned. Standing behind her was a full-bird Army Colonel — a man she’d been flirting with moments earlier, not realizing who he was to me… or what he’d just witnessed. Her face drained of color. And what he said next — about rank, respect, and exactly who I was — shut her down in a way our family never had. That’s when I realized this wasn’t just sibling jealousy. It was years of resentment about to explode. Full story in the first comment ⬇️
My sister slapped me in the middle of a jewelry store and called me “toy soldier.” She didn’t know an Army Colonel was standing three feet behind her. I was home on leave in Charleston, quietly picking out an engagement gift for the man I planned to marry. No announcement. No spotlight. Just something meaningful. Danielle couldn’t stand it. She’s the golden child — perfect house, perfect posts, perfect life. I’m just the one who joined the Army at eighteen and never asked for applause. The second she realized I was buying something for an engagement, her smile tightened. “Oh wow,” she said loudly, eyeing my uniform. “Did he outrank you, or are you just playing house now, toy soldier?” I ignored it. I’ve handled worse under fire. But when I asked the clerk to show me a band from the locked case, Danielle grabbed my arm and hissed, “You really think you deserve this?” Then she slapped me. In front of strangers. In uniform. The store went silent. Before I could even react, a calm, controlled voice cut through the air. “Touch her again,” he said evenly, “and see what happens.” Danielle turned. Standing behind her was a full-bird Army Colonel — a man she’d been flirting with moments earlier, not realizing who he was to me… or what he’d just witnessed. Her face drained of color. And what he said next — about rank, respect, and exactly who I was — shut her down in a way our family never had. That’s when I realized this wasn’t just sibling jealousy. It was years of resentment about to explode. Full story in the first comment ⬇️

My Sister Slapped Me At The Jewelry Store — Then An Army Colonel Said: Touch Her Again My…

I won $18.6 million… and I didn’t tell a single soul. Not even my husband. Instead, I sent one text: Emergency. I’m in trouble. Can you help me? My mom didn’t ask if I was okay. She sighed. “Don’t drag us into your mess.” My brother laughed. “Sell something.” My sister sent one emoji. When I showed my husband a fake overdue notice, he barely looked up. “You handle the bills. Don’t dump this on me. Ask your family.” That’s when it hit me. I wasn’t their daughter. I wasn’t their sister. I wasn’t even their partner. I was the safety net.
I won $18.6 million… and I didn’t tell a single soul. Not even my husband. Instead, I sent one text: Emergency. I’m in trouble. Can you help me? My mom didn’t ask if I was okay. She sighed. “Don’t drag us into your mess.” My brother laughed. “Sell something.” My sister sent one emoji. When I showed my husband a fake overdue notice, he barely looked up. “You handle the bills. Don’t dump this on me. Ask your family.” That’s when it hit me. I wasn’t their daughter. I wasn’t their sister. I wasn’t even their partner. I was the safety net.

I won millions in the lottery—and I told no one. Not my mom. Not even my “ride-or-die” siblings….