THE PHONE ON HER BEDSIDE TABLE — A SMALL ACT THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING

The Quiet Symbol: The Tragedy of Monique and Spencer Tepe

If you ask Monique Tepe’s closest friends what changed after she married Spencer, they’ll tell you it was something so small, so ordinary, that most people wouldn’t notice. She started leaving her phone on the bedside table at night. For years, Monique had hidden her phone in drawers, under pillows, or tucked away in her purse before she slept—an act born not of habit, but of necessity.

Her first marriage to Michael McKee, a respected vascular surgeon in Columbus, Ohio, had been marked by rituals that, to outsiders, seemed innocuous. Michael always placed his own phone on the bedside table before midnight, a gesture that, to Monique, meant surveillance and control. She lived in quiet fear that he would check her messages, calls, or location at any hour. The phone became both a lifeline and a liability.

After her divorce in 2017, Monique rebuilt her life. She met Spencer Tepe, a gentle, affable dentist, and in December 2020, they married. With Spencer, Monique found something she hadn’t known in years: a sense of safety. The simple act of leaving her phone out was a declaration—of trust, of peace, of autonomy reclaimed.

Chapter 2: The Life They Built

Family photos from those years show a woman transformed. Monique and Spencer’s home in Columbus was filled with laughter and light—two young children, holiday gatherings, and the kind of everyday joy that comes from feeling secure. Friends recall their evenings spent together in the kitchen, Monique’s easy smile, Spencer’s patience with bedtime stories and spilled milk.

Monique’s wedding vows to Spencer, now echoed in tributes after her death, spoke of “wrong relationships” and a “waterfall of tears.” To those who knew her, these words were more than poetic—they were a veiled reference to the emotional abuse she suffered with McKee. She had survived control, jealousy, and threats, and found the courage to begin again.

Chapter 3: Shadows from the Past

But the past has a way of lingering. According to Rob Misleh, Spencer’s brother-in-law, Monique confided in family about McKee’s threats “many times.” She described feeling constantly watched, her routines dictated, her communications monitored. Misleh remembers her desperation: “She was willing to do anything to get out of there.”

Experts in domestic violence call this “coercive control”—a pattern of subtle, persistent behaviors meant to isolate and intimidate. For Monique, the phone was both a symbol and a shield. Only after marrying Spencer did she feel safe enough to leave it in plain sight.

Chapter 4: The Crime

On December 30, 2025, everything changed. Monique and Spencer were found dead in their Columbus home, victims of a double homicide that stunned the community. Their children, miraculously unharmed, were discovered by family members in the aftermath.

The details of the crime were chilling. There was no forced entry. The weapon—a silenced firearm—suggested a calculated, quiet execution. Surveillance placed Michael McKee near the home that night; ballistics linked the gun to his property. He was arrested days later, fleeing to Illinois.

Police charged McKee with four counts of aggravated murder and aggravated burglary. As the case heads toward trial, prosecutors have painted a picture of a man unable to accept Monique’s happiness, his resentment culminating in violence.

Chapter 5: The Symbolism of Safety

In the weeks since the tragedy, small details have taken on outsized meaning. The phone on the bedside table, once a quiet act of resistance, now stands as a symbol of the life Monique reclaimed—and the heartbreak of its loss.

Friends and family have rallied around the Tepe children, offering support and solace. The community, shaken but resolute, has turned its attention to healing and justice.

Chapter 6: Love and Light in the Tepe Home

The Tepe household was a haven—a place where Monique found the warmth she had longed for. Spencer, known for his gentle humor and unwavering support, became her anchor. Their children, lively and curious, filled the house with energy. Friends recalled weekend breakfasts, impromptu dance parties, and evenings spent reading together in the living room.

Monique’s transformation was evident to all who knew her. She became more open, more confident, and more willing to share her story. With Spencer, she didn’t have to hide her laughter, her tears, or her fears. She spoke openly about her past, not to dwell on it, but to celebrate how far she had come.

Even the smallest gestures—leaving her phone out, inviting friends into her home, planning family vacations—were acts of defiance against the darkness that once threatened to consume her. She was determined to give her children a life free from fear.

Chapter 7: The Lingering Threat

Yet, despite her newfound happiness, Monique could never fully escape the shadow of her previous marriage. Michael McKee remained a distant but persistent presence. Friends and family noticed his attempts to contact Monique, sometimes under the guise of concern for their children, other times more direct and unsettling.

A clerical error in June 2025 briefly reopened their divorce case, sending a shockwave through Monique’s world. Though the error was quickly dismissed, it reignited old anxieties. Spencer and Monique took extra precautions—changing passwords, installing security cameras, and ensuring their children knew how to call for help.

Spencer’s family became a fortress for Monique, offering protection and reassurance. Rob Misleh, Spencer’s brother-in-law, was particularly vigilant, often reminding Monique that she wasn’t alone.

Chapter 8: The Power of Community

News of Monique and Spencer’s deaths spread quickly, shaking Columbus to its core. The community response was immediate and heartfelt. Vigils were held, candles lit in memory of the couple whose kindness touched so many lives. Neighbors delivered meals, organized fundraisers, and created a support network for the Tepe children.

Local media covered the story with sensitivity, focusing not only on the tragedy but on Monique’s courage and resilience. Experts spoke about the dangers of coercive control, using Monique’s story to raise awareness and encourage others to seek help.

The outpouring of support gave the Tepe family strength. Though grief was ever-present, they found solace in the collective embrace of friends, neighbors, and strangers alike.

Chapter 9: The Investigation Unfolds

As detectives pieced together the events of December 30, the evidence against Michael McKee mounted. Surveillance footage placed him near the Tepe home in the hours before the murders. Ballistics matched the silenced firearm to a weapon found on his property. Witnesses reported seeing a car matching McKee’s parked nearby.

Investigators uncovered a pattern of behavior that pointed to premeditation. There was no sign of forced entry, suggesting that McKee either knew how to access the home or was let in. The children, left unharmed, indicated that the crime was targeted—personal, calculated, and chillingly quiet.

The prosecution prepared its case, determined to seek justice for Monique and Spencer. The trial promised to be emotional, with family and friends ready to testify about the years of control, intimidation, and ultimately, violence.

Chapter 10: Echoes of Control

As the trial approached, Monique’s story resonated far beyond Columbus. Domestic violence advocates cited her experience as a stark example of how emotional abuse and coercive control can escalate into tragedy. Media outlets interviewed friends, family, and experts, drawing attention to the subtle warning signs that often go unnoticed—the hidden phones, the dictated routines, the quiet fear.

Spencer’s family became outspoken about the need for change. Rob Misleh, who had witnessed Monique’s struggles firsthand, urged lawmakers to strengthen protections for survivors and increase resources for those escaping abusive relationships. “Monique did everything right,” he told reporters. “She got out, she rebuilt her life, but the system didn’t do enough to keep her safe.”

The Tepe children, now living with relatives, became the focus of community support. School counselors, neighbors, and extended family worked together to provide stability and comfort, determined to shield them from the worst of the media attention and ensure their emotional well-being.

Chapter 11: The Trial

When Michael McKee finally faced a jury, the courtroom was packed. Prosecutors presented a meticulous timeline: surveillance footage, forensic evidence, and testimony from Monique’s confidants. The defense struggled to counter the overwhelming case, painting McKee as a man undone by jealousy and regret.

Monique’s own words played a powerful role. Her wedding vows to Spencer—referencing “wrong relationships” and “a waterfall of tears”—were read aloud, bringing many in the courtroom to tears. Friends described the transformation they witnessed in her life with Spencer, and the lingering fear she carried from her time with McKee.

McKee’s demeanor throughout the trial was cold and detached, further fueling public outrage. The verdict, when it came, was swift: guilty on all counts. The judge’s sentence reflected the gravity of the crime, ensuring McKee would never again threaten another family.

Chapter 12: Remembering Monique and Spencer

In the aftermath, the community mourned but also celebrated Monique and Spencer’s legacy. Memorials were held at their church and children’s school, with hundreds attending to share stories, offer prayers, and pledge support for the Tepe children.

Local organizations launched new initiatives to combat domestic violence, inspired by Monique’s courage and resilience. Her story became a catalyst for change, encouraging others to speak out and seek help.

Family photo albums, once filled with laughter and light, became cherished reminders of the love Monique and Spencer created. The phone on the bedside table—a symbol of reclaimed trust—remained in the Tepe home, a quiet tribute to Monique’s journey.

Epilogue: The Quiet Symbol

Monique Tepe’s life was defined not by tragedy, but by the strength she found in the face of adversity. Her decision to leave her phone out at night was more than a habit; it was a declaration of freedom, a refusal to be controlled by fear. Spencer Tepe’s unwavering support gave her the space to heal, to dream, and to build a future for her children.

Though their lives were cut short, Monique and Spencer’s story endures—in the hearts of those who loved them, in the advocacy sparked by their loss, and in the hope that one day, every survivor will find the safety and peace they deserve.

The Tepe children, surrounded by love and resilience, carry forward their parents’ legacy. The community, forever changed, remains vigilant—reminded that behind every quiet symbol, there is a story worth telling, and a life worth protecting.