“I’ll See You on Friday…”: Mother’s Final Words to 7-Year-Old Echo in Court as Chilling Details Surface in Sentencing Hearing

A quiet promise between a mother and her child—ordinary, loving, and routine—has now become one of the most heartbreaking moments revisited in a courtroom filled with grief.

On Wednesday, Maitlyn Gandy took the stand during the sentencing phase in the case surrounding the death of her 7-year-old daughter, Athena Strand. Standing just feet away from the man convicted in the case, she shared the final words she ever spoke to her child—words that now carry an unimaginable weight.

“I told her that I loved her and that I would see her on Friday.”

That was the last goodbye.

At the time, there was nothing unusual about it. Athena was visiting her father, and like many parents in shared custody arrangements, Gandy expected to see her daughter again in just a few days. There was no warning, no sign that this simple exchange would become their final moment.

But in the courtroom, those words landed with devastating force.

Gandy, dressed in pink—her daughter’s favorite color—and with her hair dyed to match, stood as both a witness and a symbol of enduring love. Every detail of her appearance seemed intentional, a tribute to the child whose presence still filled the room in absence.

Across from her sat Tanner Horner, already convicted in connection with Athena’s death. His prior statements to investigators and the court have painted a chilling picture of the events that followed that final goodbye—details that have left jurors and observers shaken throughout the trial.

Yet it was not only what happened, but what came after, that defined the emotional core of Gandy’s testimony.

She described the moment no parent should ever face: being called to identify her child.

“When I got to her, she was so cold… and she didn’t like the cold,” Gandy told the court, her words capturing both heartbreak and maternal instinct. “I wanted to make sure she was dressed. I wanted to make sure she had one of her bows.”

Even in that unimaginable situation, her thoughts were focused on comfort—on making sure her daughter was cared for in the smallest, most personal ways. A bow, a detail that might seem insignificant to others, became a symbol of identity, of love, of a life that had been full of personality and warmth.

But the pain did not end there.

Back home, another difficult reality awaited. Athena’s younger sister, just three years old at the time, began asking questions—questions that had no easy answers.

Gandy admitted to the court that she wasn’t ready to tell the truth.

“I didn’t know how to tell her, and I didn’t think I was strong enough,” she said.

So instead, she created a version of reality that would protect her child, at least for a while.

“I would tell her that she was just staying with her daddy for a little bit longer,” Gandy explained. “When she asked to call her or FaceTime her, I would say she was at school… or sleeping.”

Those small reassurances carried the weight of a mother trying to hold her family together in the aftermath of something unthinkable.

For nearly a year, the younger child lived without knowing the full truth. It wasn’t until recently that Gandy found the strength to explain what had happened—another painful step in a long journey of grief.

As the sentencing hearing unfolds, prosecutors have continued to reference forensic findings that raise serious concerns about the circumstances of Athena’s death. While not all details have been fully outlined in court, officials indicated that certain evidence was discovered in locations that should never be associated with a child, leaving lingering questions that add to the case’s emotional gravity.

Meanwhile, the defense has shifted its focus to mitigation.

Attorneys representing Horner have argued that his mental and developmental background—including a diagnosis on the autism spectrum—should be taken into account as jurors consider sentencing. They have emphasized that while these factors do not excuse the crime, they believe they are relevant in determining whether the most severe punishment should be imposed.

This contrast—between the deeply personal loss described by the family and the clinical arguments presented by experts—has created a courtroom atmosphere that is both emotionally charged and legally complex.

Throughout it all, Athena’s family has remained present.

They sit quietly, listening to every word, reliving moments they cannot change, waiting for a sense of closure that may never fully come. Their presence serves as a powerful reminder that behind every legal argument is a life that mattered—a child who was loved, cherished, and taken too soon.

And at the center of the case, echoing through every testimony and every argument, are those final words:

“I’ll see you on Friday.”

Words spoken with love. Words spoken with certainty. Words that now linger as a heartbreaking reminder of a future that was never realized.