WHAT MICHAEL MCKEE DID BEFORE ALLEGEDLY KILLING MONIQUE AND SPENCER TEPE

What surgeon Michael Mckee did before allegedly killing Monique and Spencer Tepe – Ohio murders

Shadows Over Columbus: The Teepe Murders

The city of Columbus, Ohio is no stranger to heartbreak, but nothing prepared its quiet suburbs for the tragedy that would unfold in the spring of 2024. In the heart of the city, two lives were snuffed out in a single night—a beloved dentist and his radiant wife, their story forever altered by a single act of violence. The case would soon grip not only their community, but the nation, as the details emerged: a tale of love found, love lost, and the dark shadow of obsession.

This is the story of Dr. Spencer Teepe and Mo’Nique Teepe, a couple whose journey together was marked by resilience and hope. It is also the story of Dr. Michael McKe, Mo’Nique’s ex-husband—a man whose brilliance in the operating room was matched only by the turmoil that followed him outside it.

The Beginning of the End

Mo’Nique Teepe had never imagined her life would end this way. Eight years earlier, she had walked away from a marriage that had become a prison. Her ex-husband, Dr. Michael McKe, was a vascular surgeon: respected, intelligent, but increasingly volatile. Friends and family spoke of the torment she endured—the kind of emotional abuse that leaves scars deeper than any wound.

She rebuilt her life, piece by piece. After years of failed relationships and lonely nights, she met Spencer Teepe. Spencer was everything Michael was not: gentle, loving, devoted to his work as a dentist and even more devoted to Mo’Nique. Their wedding was a celebration of second chances, captured in a video that would later become a haunting reminder of what was lost.

But happiness, as Mo’Nique’s friends would later say, seemed always on borrowed time. “She would say she thought he would never leave her alone for the rest of her life,” one recalled. Even after eight years apart, Michael McKe’s shadow lingered.

The Crime

On a quiet night in Columbus, everything changed. The details, pieced together by investigators and family members, paint a chilling picture.

Dr. Michael McKe entered the Teepe home armed with a gun fitted with a silencer—a weapon chosen not for sport, but for stealth. There was no forced entry; police believe he knew the digital code, perhaps a remnant from when he and Mo’Nique had once shared a home. The couple’s two children, ages four and one, were asleep inside.

The events unfolded quickly and brutally. Mo’Nique was shot in the chest, likely the first target. The sound of the suppressed gunfire may have woken Spencer, who was shot multiple times—perhaps in a desperate attempt to defend his wife. When the police arrived, it was too late. Both Spencer and Mo’Nique were dead. The children, miraculously, were unharmed. The youngest, trapped in his crib, was found crying by family members who had come for a wellness check.

The community was stunned. How could a man who had spent his life saving others commit such a heinous act? Why, after eight years of divorce, would McKe return to destroy the life Mo’Nique had worked so hard to build?

The Investigation

Columbus Police Chief described the murders as an act of domestic violence—premeditated, cold, and calculated. McKe’s arrest followed swiftly. A grand jury indicted him on five counts: four of aggravated murder and one of aggravated burglary. The shell casings found at the scene matched a gun found at McKe’s residence, further sealing the case against him.

But the investigation revealed more than just the crime itself. In the months leading up to the murders, McKe’s life had begun to unravel. Professional troubles haunted him—a malpractice lawsuit in Nevada accused him of failing to supervise a physician’s assistant who left nine inches of a catheter inside a patient’s body. Attempts to serve McKe with the lawsuit failed nine times; he seemed to have vanished, ducking responsibility at every turn.

Family members described Mo’Nique’s desperate attempts to escape him. “She just had to get away from McKe,” her brother-in-law said. Within the family, it was a known fact: Mo’Nique lived in fear, willing to do anything to protect herself and her children.

A Community in Mourning

As the news spread, Columbus mourned. Friends and colleagues remembered Spencer Teepe as a caring dentist, always quick with a smile and a comforting word. Mo’Nique was remembered for her strength—her ability to rebuild, to love again, to find joy after years of sorrow.

But the tragedy was compounded by the fate of the couple’s children. Orphaned in a single night, they were left to the care of extended family. The eldest, just four, had recently said goodbye to her parents—a heartbreak too deep for words.

Echoes of the Past

The Teepe murders were not just a crime—they were the final act in a drama that had played out quietly for years. As investigators pieced together McKe’s movements, a portrait emerged of a man spiraling out of control.

McKe’s colleagues in Nevada described a sudden disappearance. “He just packed up and vanished,” one doctor recalled. The failed attempts to serve him with legal papers were more than just bureaucratic frustration—they were signs of a man running from his own life. The lawsuit, the professional shame, the mounting pressure all seemed to converge in the months before the murders.

Yet, it wasn’t only professional troubles that haunted McKe. Friends of Mo’Nique revealed how she lived in constant fear. Even after eight years, she believed he would never leave her alone. She monitored his social media, blocked him where she could, but knew there were always ways for him to keep tabs on her. The digital age made invisibility impossible; the threat was always just a message, a post, or a friend’s update away.

Dr. Casey Jordan, a criminologist and attorney, would later describe McKe’s actions as the product of arrogance and desperation. “He’s smart enough to make it through medical school, but arrogance made him overconfident,” she explained. “He thought he could outsmart everyone. That’s why he kept the gun, why he left behind evidence. He didn’t believe he’d ever be caught.”

The Evidence Mounts

The physical evidence was damning. Shell casings at the scene matched McKe’s weapon. The use of a silencer spoke of planning, not impulse. Police theorized that McKe used the device to avoid alerting neighbors or waking the children, buying himself precious minutes to carry out his plan.

But the investigation went deeper. Surveillance footage from the neighborhood revealed a figure moving in a back alley near the Teepe home on the night of the murders. Though not yet confirmed as McKe, the timing and circumstances were suspicious. Investigators combed through hours of video, searching for any sign of his car or presence.

One of the enduring mysteries was how McKe entered the house without forced entry. The digital keypad on the front door may have been programmed with a code McKe knew from his marriage to Mo’Nique. Perhaps he had watched from afar, using a telephoto lens or simply observing from across the street, waiting for the right moment.

The police chief’s statement was clear: this was not a random act. It was calculated, designed, and executed with chilling precision.

The Children Left Behind

While the investigation pressed forward, the fate of the Teepe children weighed heavily on everyone involved. The four-year-old, wise beyond her years, had recently said goodbye to her parents. The one-year-old, found crying in his crib, was too young to understand the enormity of what had happened.

Family members took them in, determined to give them love and stability. But the loss was incalculable. “Maybe the eldest one might hopefully remember her parents,” a cousin said, her voice breaking. “It’s very tragic.”

Support poured in from across the city. A GoFundMe campaign was launched to help the children and their extended family. The community rallied, determined to ensure the children would not be forgotten, even as the investigation continued.

The Psychology of a Killer

As the case moved toward trial, questions swirled about McKe’s state of mind. Dr. Jordan offered insight into the psychology at play. “Compartmentalization is key,” she explained. “McKe’s anger was focused on his ex-wife and her new husband. The children were not part of his vendetta. Even the most emboldened murderer will draw a line at harming children.”

But the underlying traits were clear: arrogance, narcissism, and a desperate need for control. Surgeons, Jordan noted, often walk a fine line between life and death, developing a sense of invincibility. When that sense of control slips—through professional failure, personal loss, or financial ruin—the results can be catastrophic.

McKe’s life was unraveling. Lawsuits, a failed marriage, professional shame—all compounded daily. In his mind, Mo’Nique and Spencer became scapegoats for his misery. Their happiness was a reminder of everything he had lost.

The Road Ahead

With McKe’s extradition to Ohio imminent, the city braced for the next chapter. The grand jury’s indictment was clear: four counts of aggravated murder, one of aggravated burglary. The charges were not just a reflection of the crime, but of the intent and calculation behind it.

As the trial approached, the community waited. Would McKe fight the charges, or would logic prevail and force a plea? The evidence was overwhelming—DNA, the murder weapon, surveillance footage. The defense would have little room to maneuver.

But for the Teepe children and their family, the trial was just another step in a journey marked by loss and resilience.

A City on Edge

As the days passed, Columbus found itself gripped by a strange mix of sorrow and anticipation. The Teepe murders became a touchstone for conversations about domestic violence, mental health, and the hidden struggles of those who seem to have it all. Local news outlets ran nightly updates, and neighbors left flowers outside the Teepe home—a quiet memorial to lives stolen too soon.

For the families, the pain was unrelenting. Mo’Nique’s relatives spoke of her courage, her laughter, her determination to build a better life for her children. Spencer’s colleagues at the dental practice remembered a man who treated every patient with kindness and dignity. Their loss was felt in every corner of the city.

The children, meanwhile, adjusted to their new reality with the help of extended family and a community determined to shield them from further harm. Donations poured in, and counselors volunteered their time, hoping to ease the trauma that no child should ever have to endure.

Inside the Courtroom

Dr. Michael McKe’s return to Ohio was marked by a flurry of media attention. He appeared in court, his face a mask of exhaustion and resignation. The prosecution laid out its case: the planning, the silencer, the shell casings, the digital evidence. Witnesses described McKe’s unraveling career, his attempts to evade responsibility, and the fear that Mo’Nique had lived with for years.

Dr. Casey Jordan, called as an expert, explained to the jury the psychology of control and collapse. “When someone who needs absolute control begins to lose it—whether through lawsuits, divorce, or professional shame—they may act in ways that are completely out of character, even catastrophic.”

The defense struggled to offer an alternative narrative. They suggested McKe had come only to talk, that the murders were not premeditated. But the evidence was overwhelming. The silencer, the lack of forced entry, the surveillance footage, and the connection between the shell casings and McKe’s weapon painted a clear picture.

As the trial wore on, it became clear that the community wanted not just justice, but answers. How could someone who had sworn an oath to save lives become the architect of such tragedy? What signs had been missed? Could anything have been done to prevent it?

Reflections and Reckoning

In the weeks after the verdict, Columbus began to heal. McKe was found guilty on all charges—aggravated murder, aggravated burglary, and the lesser included offenses. He was sentenced to life without parole. For the families, there was relief, but no real closure. Nothing could bring back Mo’Nique and Spencer, or erase the trauma left behind.

The community turned its attention to prevention. Local organizations launched new initiatives to support survivors of domestic violence. Schools and churches hosted workshops on recognizing the signs of abuse. The story of Mo’Nique and Spencer Teepe became not just a cautionary tale, but a call to action.

Mo’Nique’s brother-in-law, who had filmed her wedding, shared a message with the city: “Mo’Nique lived her last years in hope and love. If her story can help even one person find the courage to leave an abusive situation, then her legacy will live on.”

Epilogue: Light After Darkness

Months after the trial, the Teepe children continued to grow, surrounded by family, community, and the memory of parents who loved them deeply. The GoFundMe campaign helped secure their future, but it was the daily acts of kindness—meals delivered, bedtime stories read by cousins, gentle reminders of happier times—that truly sustained them.

Columbus moved forward, forever changed. The Teepe murders would not be forgotten, but neither would the resilience of those left behind. In the quiet moments, as the seasons changed and life returned to the neighborhood, there was a sense that even in the darkest of nights, hope could find a way.