A heartbreaking tragedy has shaken the small town of Wolcottville, Indiana. Police discovered the lifeless bodies of a mother and her three little girls inside their home, leaving the entire community in shock and grief.
It all began on the morning of September 17, when Wolcottville Police officers were asked to perform a welfare check at a house on South Main Street. Concerned friends and neighbors hadn’t heard from the family, and something felt wrong.
At 11:20 a.m., officers entered the home—and what they found was devastating. Inside were the bodies of 32-year-old Rebecca Hughes and her three daughters: Evalynn, 8, Allison, 6, and Amelia, 5.
The Indiana State Police quickly took over the case, and the Noble County Coroner confirmed their identities. Autopsies have been completed, but toxicology results and the official cause of death are still pending. Police have said there is no danger to the public, but the full story of what happened remains a painful mystery.
A Father’s Unimaginable Loss
The girls’ father, Jonathan Newell, opened his heart about the tragedy. He explained how, before learning the horrible truth, he had convinced himself that Rebecca might have simply taken the girls and left.
“I had prepared myself to think that she had just ran with the kids,” Jonathan admitted. “She didn’t show up, and she’d done some other stuff before that made me think she just wasn’t going to go along with things.”
Jonathan had been fighting for more time with his daughters, asking the court for just one hour of visitation twice a month. Despite working three exhausting shifts a day, he never missed a court date. His dream was simple—he just wanted to be a dad to his girls.
On the morning of the tragedy, Jonathan had finally fallen asleep after his third shift when his phone rang. It was his mother, panicked and crying. Half-asleep, Jonathan tried to calm her.
“Don’t worry, she’s fine. The kids are fine,” he told her.
But then, Jonathan noticed troubling posts appearing on Facebook. His stomach dropped. Something wasn’t right. He called the police for answers, but they wouldn’t tell him anything. Desperate, he decided to go to Rebecca’s house himself.
Before he could leave, there was a knock at his door. Two police officers stood outside. Jonathan’s world shattered in that moment as they told him his daughters were gone.
Living With the Pain
In an interview just days later, Jonathan tried to explain the storm of emotions he was facing.
“Sometimes you’re mad. Sometimes you’re sad. Other times you’re so dissociated you don’t even feel like you’re there,” he said quietly.
He admitted that sometimes it still felt like his daughters were simply at their mother’s house, waiting for him to visit. But then the harsh truth would hit again—they weren’t coming back.
Jonathan also spoke about the crushing guilt he carried.
“What I get most is the guilt,” he confessed. “I feel like there’s a lot that can be blamed on me.”
He replayed endless “what ifs” in his mind—what if he had been less tired after work, what if he had done something differently? Those haunting thoughts gave him no rest.
A Town in Mourning
The tragedy has deeply scarred Wolcottville, a place where neighbors know each other by name. Outside the Hughes’ home, people created a memorial, leaving flowers, stuffed animals, and handwritten notes.
One of the mourners, Pam Laughlin, who attended church with Rebecca and the children, broke down as she tried to speak.
“I threw up my breakfast because my heart hurt for these kids,” Pam admitted, her voice trembling. “I wish it could’ve been me instead of the girls.”
She remembered them as “sweet and kind, the kind of children everyone loved.”
Neighbor Greg Williams also struggled to process the loss. He remembered seeing Rebecca just days before her death, mowing the lawn.
“The next thing you know, the whole family’s gone,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I just feel sorry for the kids’ dad.”
Community Rallies Behind Jonathan
Despite his grief, Jonathan still wanted to give his daughters the burial they deserved. He set up a GoFundMe page, hoping to raise $30,000. The response was overwhelming. In just 12 hours, donations passed the goal, and today, the fund has exceeded $45,000.
Tears filled Jonathan’s eyes as he spoke about the kindness of strangers.
“People who didn’t even know me or my kids started just giving money and sending messages,” he said.
On the GoFundMe page, he shared a heartfelt thank-you:
“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 thanked you personally yet—I’ve had so much to do for the girls.”
Remembering Rebecca Too
While most of the community focused on the children, Rebecca’s friend, Ashley McAtee, took to Facebook to remind people that Rebecca was also gone.
“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 wrote.
She asked people not to jump to conclusions. “It’s a tragic situation, and no one knows exactly why or what was going on in detail,” she said.
Ashley remembered Rebecca as a “quiet and shy” woman to strangers but “funny and bubbly” with her friends. She believed Rebecca truly loved her children but may have been struggling silently with mental and emotional pain.
Turning Grief Into a Mission
Now, in the wake of unimaginable loss, Jonathan has decided to turn his grief into a message. He wants to raise awareness about mental health struggles, especially among mothers.
“If you feel like you’re struggling at all, get help,” Jonathan urged. “You can call me. I’ll answer. We’ll talk it out.”
In another emotional plea, he said: “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.”
For now, the cause of death remains under investigation. The community of Wolcottville continues to grieve, holding tightly onto the memory of three little girls whose lives ended far too soon, and a mother whose struggles may never be fully understood.
