Editor’s note: Here is the victim statement read into the court record Wednesday by Heather Huelsman Byrnes, the cousin of Anesha “Duffy” Murnane, on behalf of the family. It includes a letter written by Murnane’s mother, Sara Berg, after the arrest of Duffy’s killer. Sara Berg died in January, 2024.

Your honor, my name is Heather Huelsman Byrnes, I am Duffy’s cousin. Our mothers were sisters. I am speaking on behalf of our family today. My cousin Gregory, Duffy’s brother, is also here today, and my uncle Ed, Duffy’s stepdad, as well as my father and several other family members and friends.

I would like to begin my remarks by reading the letter that my aunt Sara — Duffy’s mother — left behind, which she wanted us to read at any sentencing hearing:

I’ve lost my daughter but I have not lost her spirit, she is within me constantly, she drifts in and out of my mind frequently, sometimes she comes roaring in like an angry lion, making me angry, afraid, helpless, confused, I shake, I scream, I cry, I want to be rid of this feeling of utter defeat and emptiness, I want to hold her in my arms and nurture her.

I want peace in my heart. Sometimes she drifts in and brings me joy. I remember her sweetness, her compassion, her calmness, her laughter. Her “Hi Mom.” Luckily after this much time, I have more grateful thoughts than anguish. I can’t imagine living the rest of my life with hatred and anger in my heart, that is not who I am. I am grateful I had such a wonderful daughter and that I could share her with others. She taught me so much, and surrounded me with love, and brought so much joy, friends and adventures into my life.

My kind, sweet, thoughtful, patient, giving daughter. A Montessori teacher, adored by every student and so appreciated by every parent.

Her disappearance was like being thrown into a wall. I knew instantly that she was dead, and I went fairly numb for six months, except, when the lion was visiting, then I was fairly hysterical. My mind never left the questions, how? who? why? where? when? The search for answers never stopped, night or day, 2.5 years we searched, always pushing for more help. The whole town was right behind us, feeding, helping, nurturing.

Our health declined rapidly. My cancer, that was in remission, came right back. 4 months after she was taken Ed had a near death experience, with a dissecting, ascending, aortic aneurysm, luckily, he survived, most don’t. Two months later I collapsed and was flown out for a pacemaker. There is such a thing as a broken heart!

Life as we knew it has changed forever. My health has deteriorated, between cancer and heart failure, to needing help with most activities, even just rolling over in bed.

“My husband watches me struggle daily with the pain and frustration and grief. He has plenty of his own frustrations, with the blindness setting in and being my caretaker.

“On one particular bad bed transfer, with me doing my Lamaze breathing to keep from screaming with the pain, I looked up at my sweet helper and there were tears streaming down his cheeks. We have had to give up our house in Mexico, which Duffy and I both loved dearly. After four years’ absence, due to the abduction, my health had deteriorated enough that I needed more medical care than they could provide. I miss it immensely.

Things changed drastically after Duffy was taken; our house became a search hub for three months, so many people just showed up ready to help, many from out of town.

After that period we used the house to isolate from Covid and wait and wait, following any clues that came our way hoping and hoping our new detective was making headway. He called us often and told us little. We knew it had to be that way but it was so, so hard, we wanted any straw he could give us to have something to hold on to. Would I die with never knowing for sure what happened? 

During this quiet time we were never forgotten by our friends and neighbors, little presents would appear at the door and arrive in the mail.

We love Homer, been living here for 47 years, but it has all changed for us. Before the Duffy abduction we would zip to town all the time, spend some time visiting with friends at the store and zip home, happy for the break and visit.

Going to town is now an ordeal. What time is the store the least crowded? What clothes will make me blend in unnoticed? Do I really need that item? I invariably will see an acquaintance down the aisle ducking out of sight or slipping by pretending they didn’t notice me. They are overcome with emotions, leaving them speechless. There is nothing anyone could ever say to ease my pain. They can’t imagine living with this pain and they are so relieved it wasn’t their child. Others see me from across the store and immediately, every loss they have ever experienced comes rushing into their heads, they burst into tears and run toward me as fast as they can. I am usually not quick enough to escape. We both are now crying, I’m heading for the car, green peppers forgotten. I’m now worried about Covid and the state of my cancer-ridden back, and whether I should pull myself together and return or just give up and go home.

I have lost quite a few friends, many are grieving so much for my Duffy, they are afraid they will pull me down, or they quite frankly cannot think of a thing to say as they have never faced a situation this horrific.

The other group highly impacted by the loss of Duffy are the hundreds and hundreds of children that she will never nurture. She has turned the lives around for so many little ones. Thousands more would have been affected in her lifetime. Endless patience, unconditional love and living in the moment can have a powerful impact on a child’s life.

We left Homer for six months to seek better medical care, and quite frankly, returning, was a decision that was a little hard to make. In Homer, I see sorrow in everyone’s eyes and I see my daughter in every house and store, remembering where every banner was placed and every vigil held. However we felt we needed to return to our hometown as I have entered hospice care and I want to die and be buried amongst friends. We are here but we will never be the same, she is in every breath we take.

That concludes my aunt’s letter. My aunt Sara Berg died January 24, 2024.

I will begin my own remarks now.

Even 44 years on, I remember very distinctly the day that my cousin Duffy was born and how she looked the first time I held her. She was a beautiful baby, with serene blue eyes and the sunniest disposition I’ve ever encountered in an infant. Our mothers were sisters with a close relationship, and Duffy was much more like a younger sister to me than a cousin. She was the flower girl at my wedding and came to help me when my own daughter was born. Even today it is hard to avoid memories of her – her beautiful, handmade gifts are in virtually every room of our house.

What was done to her, what was done to our family, is so painful that I can barely bring myself to speak and to be in the same room with her murderer. But, I do not want any other family to go through what mine has since October 2019, and therefore, I am finding the courage to address you here today and describe the hell that we have lived through these past years.

The initial phase we suffered was utter panic. We knew immediately, those of us who knew Duffy well, that she would never have left in that sudden fashion of her own volition. She was utterly reliable and risk-averse. So, we were certain from the beginning that something terrible had happened to her. Our hope (however small) was that she had been abducted but not murdered and that if we searched effectively enough, we could find her in time.

For my part, I got the first available flight from Washington, D.C., to Homer and began looking as soon as I landed. I went across Homer, Anchor Point, Ninilchik and Soldotna handing out flyers, asking stores and restaurants to put them up. I called local churches to ask if they could hand out flyers to parishioners at Sunday masses and services. I stopped at local schools and gave flyers to school bus drivers thinking that one of them might have seen something on their daily route. Our relatives and friends – both from Homer and from around the country converged here and did the same, pursuing any possible avenue to find Duffy.

When we had done all the logical things we could think of to find her, we began to try things we knew deep down were not going to locate Duffy, because we were so desperate. People came to us with theories or hunches as to where she might be, and even when we knew they were unlikely to be true we had to look. As one example, a psychic told us Duffy was being held in an abandoned school bus, so my aunt and I visited every stationary school bus in this part of Alaska.

During the years that Duffy was missing, before her murderer was arrested, we never stopped thinking about her, hoping we could find her. Like the rest of the family, I found myself constantly scanning any crowd on a bus or an airport or walking across a shopping center – in case I might catch a glimpse of her even after we transferred back to service overseas. I knew it wasn’t logical, but I couldn’t help myself. 

When I got the news that an arrest had been made and learned the details of what the murderer did to my sweet cousin, I felt as if I was looking into a black abyss. It was days before I felt I could even breathe normally. I didn’t know how to break the news to my children. Many nights I have suffered from nightmares that were so vivid I woke up screaming. The rest of the family has suffered in the same way, as have Duffy’s friends and neighbors.

At the same time, the fact that I am standing here today, the fact that we are at a sentencing hearing at all is a testament to the fact that even such depraved, utterly evil acts as those done by this man to our sweet Duffy, our family and our community, are not the last word. 

We are standing here today because in the face of this evil, not one, not a handful but hundreds and even thousands of people surged to help. Law enforcement – including detective Matt Haney, and here we owe a big debt of gratitude – spent countless hours painstakingly chasing down leads and putting together evidence. As the family, we don’t know all the details of your work but we know it was immense, and we appreciate it.

The prosecutor’s office and the judicial system – although sometimes we wished the process had gone more quickly – we also know the important role you played in this and the hours you put in behind the scenes to ensure justice. 

People across Alaska and across the country joined the Bring Duffy Home Facebook page – especially our community of sorrow, the other families of missing and murdered women in Alaska, who offered us their solidarity and support. We think of them especially today because many will never have a day like this in a courtroom.

Finally, last but certainly not at all least, the community of Homer. After what happened to Duffy here one would think I would hate coming here but I don’t. I can’t imagine a community being more supportive, more committed, more ready to help than the people in Homer, Alaska. You are the best. Not just the best of Alaska but – and I’ve lived in seven countries so far in my life so I have some basis of comparison – the best in the world. You don’t wait for help from outside, you don’t just confine your efforts to your own family and small circle of friends, you see evil and you respond with good. You support those who are grieving, you work to protect the community and you work for justice.

Your Honor, great evil has been done, great suffering has been caused to many people by this heinous crime. We ask that the person who did this stays in prison until he is at least 85 years old, until he can no longer harm anyone else.