🚨 TRAGEDY AT THE HOSPITAL Authorities confirm a 19-year-old man fatally shot his wife moments after she gave birth. 😢 The victim’s mother collapsed in tears while revealing the real reason behind the horror — nothing like the rumors spreading across social media…

Husband Fatally Shot Wife at Hospital Moments After She Had Baby, Then Turned Gun on Himself

Brookwood Hospital.Credit : WVTM 13 News/YouTube

An Alabama man fatally shot his wife shortly after she gave birth before turning the gun on himself in an apparent murder-suicide.

Police in Homewood, Ala., said they responded to a shooting at Women’s Center of Brookwood Hospital on Sunday, March 1.

Once there, officers discovered that a woman, who was a patient at the hospital, and a man had both died from gunshot wounds. No one else was injured.

Police believe the incident was a murder-suicide.

WVTM, WBRC, and AL.com reported that the two deceased were identified as Precious Johnson, 24, and her husband, Kynath William Terry Jr., 19.

Citing a coroner’s report, WVTM reported that Johnson, who was shot multiple times by Terry, had just had a baby.

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The outlet spoke to Terry’s mother, who said the couple had been having marital issues but that she didn’t know her son was violent.

Danne Howard, the president of the Alabama Hospital Association, spoke to WBRC in the aftermath of the incident.

“There are a few places in our world where we should feel safe — at church, our hospitals, and our homes,” Howard said, per the outlet. “Unfortunately, things happen and we do not feel safe anymore. We want to assure the public that our hospitals and our health care providers consider safety just as important as providing quality health care.”

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On My Birthday, My Husband And Children Handed Me Divorce Papers And Eviction Notices. The House, The Business, The Company, Everything—Gone. My Daughter Sneered, Calling Me Pathetic, As They All Laughed. I Smiled, Signed Without Trembling, And Quietly Left. Within A Week, My Phone Lit Up With 42 Desperate Calls. Karma Had Arrived Faster Than Expected. The first thing I noticed was Sophia’s laugh. It came up through the heating vent in my bedroom floor, bright and careless, the way it used to sound when she was sixteen and sneaking out to meet boys in the church parking lot. Except this time there was no sweetness in it. There was only appetite. I was on my knees beside the bed, looking for a missing earring, when I heard my own name. “She really thinks tomorrow is a party,” Sophia said, and then she laughed again. I went still so fast my hip barked at me. The metal vent was warm under my palm. Below us, Elijah’s home office sat directly under our bedroom, and every winter the old ductwork carried sound the same way it carried heat. I’d complained about it for years. That morning it saved me. Nathan’s voice joined hers, flatter and cooler. He always sounded like he was billing someone by the hour, even when he was asking for mashed potatoes. “Dad, are you sure the eviction notice holds up? If she challenges it, I don’t want any mistakes.” “We’re covered,” Elijah said. I had been married to that voice for thirty-two years. I knew every grain of it. I knew how it sounded when he was tired, when he was lying, when he wanted something. Right then, through the dust-smelling vent, he sounded pleased with himself. “The house deed, the business transfer, the divorce papers,” he said. “Marcus will witness. She signs tomorrow, and by tomorrow night she owns nothing except that ancient Honda she refuses to sell.” Sophia snorted. “Honestly, that car is embarrassing.” I sat back on my heels so hard the carpet burned through my pajama pants. For a second my brain tried to hand me other explanations. Surprise party. Tax issue. Some complicated legal thing Nathan had exaggerated. But then Elijah said Patricia’s name. “And Patricia is ready to move as soon as Abigail is out,” he said, in a tone so warm it made my scalp prickle. “She already moved a few things into the storage unit.” There are moments in life when the room doesn’t spin, doesn’t tilt, doesn’t go dramatic and cinematic. It just becomes brutally clear. The winter light falling across my dresser stayed exactly the same. The air smelled like cedar from the sachet I kept in the top drawer. Outside, a blue jay landed on the fence and flicked its tail. Everything ordinary remained ordinary while my life split clean down the middle. Nathan cleared his throat below. “The language is airtight. As long as she signs voluntarily, there’s no coercion claim. We present it during the birthday breakfast, let emotions work in our favor, and record everything.” “I’ll get her face,” Sophia said. “I want to remember it.” The sound that came out of me didn’t feel human. It was too small to be a sob and too raw to be breath. I clamped a hand over my mouth and waited until the office chairs scraped back, until footsteps moved away, until the house settled into silence again. Then I stood up. My knees shook. My fingers didn’t. That was useful. I crossed to the closet and reached for the small hard-shell suitcase on the top shelf, the one I used for overnight work trips. I packed without letting myself think in big words like marriage or children or betrayal. Big words were useless. I focused on objects. Two pairs of slacks. Three blouses. My mother’s pearl necklace in its frayed blue box. The watch I bought myself with my first real paycheck at twenty-three, when I was still Abigail Hart and knew the price of every gallon of gas in town. A photo album from college. My passport. The brown leather notebook where I kept project numbers and side calculations nobody in the office ever bothered to understand. I left the diamonds Elijah had given me for our twentieth anniversary. He could have them. They had always felt heavy. At the bottom of the suitcase I slid an envelope of cash I kept tucked behind my old nursing textbooks. Not secret money exactly. Just private money. Money from consulting jobs Elijah had thought were too minor to chase, small commercial remodels and cost analyses I handled under my maiden name. Forty thousand dollars spread over three years, saved because somewhere inside me, before I was ready to admit it, I had stopped trusting the life I was standing in. Continued in the first c0mment

On My Birthday, My Husband And Children Handed Me Divorce Papers And Eviction Notices. The House, The Business, The Company, Everything—Gone. My Daughter Sneered, Calling Me Pathetic, As They All Laughed. I Smiled, Signed Without Trembling, And Quietly Left. Within A Week, My Phone Lit Up With 42 Desperate Calls. Karma Had Arrived Faster Than […]

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