In a heartbreaking tragedy that shocked a small town, police found the bodies of a mother and her three young daughters inside their Wolcottville home. What began as a simple welfare check turned into a nightmare that left an entire community grieving.
On the morning of September 17, 2024, Wolcottville Police were called to a home on South Main Street. Concerned neighbors had grown worried after they hadn’t seen or heard from the family.
At around 11:20 a.m., officers stepped inside the house—and made a discovery no one was prepared for. Inside were the lifeless bodies of 32-year-old Rebecca Hughes and her three daughters: 8-year-old Evalynn, 6-year-old Allison, and 5-year-old Amelia.
Police quickly contacted the Indiana State Police to handle the investigation. Autopsies were performed, but the official causes of death are still pending as toxicology results haven’t been released. For now, investigators have only said there is no threat to the public, but the mystery surrounding what led to the tragedy remains.
While police continue to search for answers, the girls’ father, Jonathan Newell, has spoken openly about his pain. His world changed in an instant, and he is still struggling to make sense of what happened.
Jonathan explained that before he knew the truth, he had convinced himself Rebecca had taken the children somewhere. “I had prepared myself to think that she had ran with the kids,” he admitted in an interview. “She didn’t show up. She’d done some other stuff that made me think she wasn’t going to go along with it.”
Jonathan had been fighting hard in court just to spend more time with his daughters. He worked three shifts a day at his job, yet never missed a court date. His request was modest: just one hour, twice a month, to be with his little girls.
On the morning of September 17, Jonathan had just come home from his third shift and fallen asleep when his mother suddenly called him in a panic. Exhausted, he tried to reassure her. “Don’t worry, she’s fine. The kids are fine,” he told her. But deep inside, something didn’t feel right.
Moments later, he noticed disturbing posts on Facebook about Rebecca and the children. Alarmed, he tried calling the police himself, but they refused to give him details over the phone.
Desperate for answers, Jonathan decided to go straight to Rebecca’s house. But before he could leave, there was a knock on his own front door. Two officers were waiting outside. It was then that Jonathan’s worst nightmare became real. His daughters were gone.
Looking back on that moment, Jonathan described his feelings in raw honesty: “Sometimes you’re mad. Sometimes you’re sad. Other times you’re so dissociated you don’t even feel like you’re there.”
He explained how his mind often tricked him into thinking his girls were still alive. “It feels like they’re just at their mom’s house. Like I could drive down the road and see them. But then reality hits me—they’re not there anymore.”
The grief has been crushing. Jonathan even admitted that he feels guilty for grieving because, in his mind, sadness is a “me emotion.” “What I get most is the guilt,” he confessed. “I feel like there’s a lot that can be blamed on me.”
He torments himself with endless “what-ifs”—what if he hadn’t been so tired from work, what if he had said something different, what if he had done more?
Meanwhile, the small town of Wolcottville has come together to mourn. Outside Rebecca’s home, a memorial has grown with stuffed animals, flowers, and heartfelt notes for the girls.
One church friend, Pam Laughlin, broke down while speaking about the tragedy. “I threw up my breakfast because my heart hurt for these kids,” she said, wiping away tears. “I wish it could’ve been me instead of the girls.”
Pam remembered them as three sweet, kind sisters who always smiled. Many others in the community echoed the same.
Neighbor Greg Williams also shared his shock. Just days before, he saw Rebecca mowing the lawn. “The next thing you know, the whole family’s gone,” he said quietly, still stunned. He added, “I just feel sorry for the kids’ dad.”
Jonathan has felt that support deeply. When he started a GoFundMe to raise money for his daughters’ funerals, the community stepped in right away. His goal was $30,000, but within just 12 hours, donations had already passed that amount. The total has now reached over $45,000.
Through tears, Jonathan said, “This is really the last thing I get to do for them.” He was overwhelmed that even strangers had donated. “People who didn’t even know me or my kids started giving money and sending messages,” he said.
Wanting to thank everyone personally, Jonathan wrote an emotional note: “Thank you all, this is way more than I could ask. If any of you need help ever, I’m there for you. Please don’t be offended if I haven’t got to you yet. There’s a lot I have to do today for the girls.”
But amidst the sorrow for the children, not everyone wanted Rebecca to be forgotten. Her friend, Ashley McAtee, spoke up on Facebook. “Since I’ve not seen one post with Rebecca Hughes’ picture or anyone showing respect for her being gone as well as her 3 daughters, I’m gonna post a couple I have found.”
Ashley urged people not to jump to conclusions about what happened. “It’s a tragic situation, and no one knows exactly why or what was going on in detail.” She reminded others that Rebecca did love her kids, but may have been silently battling mental and emotional struggles.
She described Rebecca as quiet and shy with strangers, but funny and bubbly with friends. Ashley’s hope was simple—that Rebecca had found peace, along with her little girls.
Now, Jonathan is trying to channel his grief into helping others. He wants his daughters’ deaths to at least inspire more awareness about mental health, especially for mothers who may feel alone.
“If you feel like you’re struggling at all, get help,” Jonathan urged during one interview. “You can call me. I’ll answer. We’ll talk it out.”
In another, he pleaded, “If you are a parent, and you have kids, and you need help, then get it. Because you don’t know when it’s going to be the last time you can.”
The tragedy has left a deep scar on Wolcottville, but it has also brought people together. For now, the community stands by Jonathan, waiting for answers while holding tightly to the memories of three little girls who left the world far too soon.