Ana Walshe was 39 years old. She had three sons, ages 2, 4, and 6 at the time she disappeared. She worked as a real estate executive for Tishman Speyer in Washington D.C., commuting back and forth to Massachusetts every week to be with her family. She had a smile that lit up rooms, according to friends. She made people feel seen. She brought pastries to colleagues. She rushed to open doors for strangers at open houses. She was, by every account, the kind of person who made the world a little warmer just by being in it.
Today, December 10, 2025, the Commonwealth of Massachusetts rested its case against Brian Walshe, the man accused of murdering Ana in the early hours of New Year's Day 2023. After eight days of testimony, after forensic experts and digital analysts and DNA specialists and family members and friends, the prosecution said: we have nothing more. This is our case. This is what we believe proves beyond a reasonable doubt that Brian Walshe killed his wife.
The defense immediately stood up and asked the judge to throw it all out. Not enough evidence, they argued. Not enough to prove premeditation. Not enough to prove intent. The judge listened. The judge denied the motion. The case moves to the defense.
But before we got to that moment, before the legal arguments and the motions and the rulings, we heard from the people who knew Ana best. We heard from Gem Mutlu, the real estate professional who spent five hours with Brian and Ana on New Year's Eve, drinking champagne and signing bottles with messages of hope for the coming year. We heard from Alyssa Kirby, Ana's self-described "new best friend," who spent six hours with Ana just two days before she vanished, listening to her friend finally break down and admit that everything had become too much.
Day 8 was the day we saw Ana Walshe most clearly as a human being. Not as a victim. Not as evidence. Not as an allegation in a murder indictment. As a person. A wife struggling with a marriage that had lost its intimacy. A mother aching to be with children who lived in a different state. A professional exhausted by weekly commutes and demanding work schedules. A woman who had hit what her best friend called "a breaking point."
And somewhere in the early hours of January 1, 2023, Ana Walshe disappeared. Her body has never been found. The prosecution says Brian killed her. The defense says she died of natural causes and Brian panicked. Eight days of testimony, and that fundamental question remains: What happened to Ana Walshe?
The champagne bottle they signed on New Year's Eve is now evidence in a murder trial. Ana's inscription read: "Wow. 2022. What a year. And yet we are still here. And together, let's make 2023 the best one yet. We are the authors of our lives. Courage, love, perseverance, compassion, and joy." Brian wrote: "Jem, Anna, Brian. New Year's Eve 2023 to the best triumvirate ever. Love, Brian." Gem wrote: "No place I'd rather be but here."
Less than four hours later, according to the prosecution's theory, Brian would beat Ana to death, dismember her body, and begin disposing of her remains in dumpsters across Massachusetts. The champagne had barely gone flat. The ink on those hopeful inscriptions had barely dried. The defense says that timeline is wrong, that Ana died suddenly of natural causes, and that everything Brian did afterward was the desperate act of a man who knew no one would believe him.
The jury will decide. But first, let me walk you through what happened on Day 8, what it means for this case, and what questions you should be asking as we move toward closing arguments.
Gem Mutlu took the stand first. He's a real estate professional who met Brian through a leadership development program called the Boston Breakthrough Academy. Brian sought him out as a "buddy" in the program because Ana had taken the same course the semester before and told Brian that Gem was someone worth knowing. That's how their friendship began: Ana playing matchmaker between her husband and a colleague she respected.
Gem and Ana grew close when she started working for him as director of operations in the summer of 2020. He described her as his "right hand," someone who did everything from managing social media to picking up his dry cleaning. They talked almost every day when she worked for him. She would come to his South End apartment and bring pastries. They would strategize about real estate deals. He saw the Walsh family as his own family. He spent two New Year's Eves with them in three years.
The prosecutor wanted Gem to talk about a phone call he had with Ana on December 29, 2022, just two days before she disappeared. Gem said the call lasted about 45 minutes. He called to congratulate her on closing a deal. But the conversation turned to other things. Ana told him she was having problems. She was seeking counseling. The back-and-forth travel to D.C. was taking a toll. She wasn't seeing the children as much as she wanted. Brian couldn't leave Massachusetts because of his federal case. There were, as Gem put it, "marital issues."
The judge stopped Gem multiple times during his testimony. The problem was the difference between what Ana actually said and what Gem felt or understood from the conversation. "You have to have a memory that she actually said what you're discussing," the judge explained, "as opposed to this feeling, this gist." Gem struggled with this distinction. He remembered making a mental note that Ana needed a longer conversation, that she had told him things were hard, that she was seeking help. But the specific words, three years later, were harder to recall.
What came through clearly was Gem's memory of New Year's Eve itself. He arrived at the Walsh home in Cohasset around 8:30 p.m. and stayed until about 1:30 a.m. Brian was cooking. Ana was at the kitchen counter with Gem. The children were asleep upstairs. Champagne was flowing. Everyone was "joyful" and "jovial," as Gem described it. They talked about investments. They talked about books. They signed the champagne bottle with messages of hope. Brian told Gem about Ana's new compensation at Tishman Speyer, around $240,000 base with bonuses pushing it to $300,000. Brian said his own income that year had been $50,000 or $60,000.
At some point during the evening, Brian mentioned that he had misplaced his phone. He said it felt "refreshing" to be away from it for a while. This detail matters because the prosecution has argued that Brian's phone, supposedly lost from December 31 to January 2, was actually being used during that time. Records show the phone was repeatedly unlocked and connected to a power source while Brian claimed it was missing. The prosecution says Brian used the "lost phone" story to create an alibi, to explain why he wasn't contacting Ana, to cover his tracks.
Ana was texting throughout the evening. Gem was sitting right next to her at the kitchen counter. He saw her phone. He believed she was texting Abdullah, Will Fastow, their mutual friend Emily, and others. It was New Year's Eve, after all. Lots of people text on New Year's Eve. At one point, according to Gem, Ana said something like "Let's take a picture and send it to Will." They took a selfie. Gem couldn't remember with precision whether those were her exact words, but he believed that's what she said.
Will Fastow. The name has come up repeatedly in this trial. He's the real estate professional who sold Ana her D.C. house. Ana told multiple friends she had a "crush" on him. She told Brian about the crush. The prosecution has argued that Ana and Will had an intimate affair, and that Brian's knowledge of this affair was one of his motives for murder. The defense has pushed back, noting that witnesses like Alyssa Kirby testified that Ana never told her anything "romantic or intimate" actually happened between Ana and Will.
Gem left the Walsh home at about 1:30 in the morning on January 1, 2023. He stopped at a nearby shopping mall to pick out music for his drive home because he didn't want to be distracted while driving. He sent a text the next day to both Brian and Ana: "I love my necklace." Thomas, the oldest Walsh boy, had given Gem a necklace that night.
The next time Gem heard from Brian was Wednesday, January 4. Brian called him. "Have you heard from Anna?" Brian asked. Gem was incredulous. "What do you mean?" Brian explained that Ana had been missing, that she had left for a work emergency early on New Year's morning, that no one had heard from her. Gem didn't understand. He had just seen them. They were happy. They were signing champagne bottles with messages of hope.
"Did you guys have an argument or something?" Gem asked. "Did you have a fight?" Brian's response stuck with Gem: "No. Did it look like we had an argument? You were there."
But it was Brian's tone that Gem noticed most. "His tone was not panicked," Gem testified. For someone whose wife had been missing for three days, whose community hadn't been alerted, whose children's mother had simply vanished, Brian sounded calm. Even-keeled. Toned down.
The defense cross-examined Gem for a long time. They wanted to establish that the New Year's Eve dinner was genuinely happy, that there were no signs of trouble, that Brian and Ana were laughing together, talking together, serving food together, taking pictures together. Gem confirmed all of it. The night was joyful. Everyone was hopeful. Brian wasn't even the one who told Gem to leave; Gem realized it was late and excused himself.
The defense also drew out that Gem had heard about "marital issues" from Ana a couple days before, but when pressed on specifics, Gem couldn't remember the exact words. And even the issues he did remember, the traveling, the separation from the children, Brian's federal case, weren't necessarily the kind of explosive problems that would lead to murder. They were the ordinary difficulties of a complicated life: a wife commuting weekly to a different city, a husband unable to travel because of legal restrictions, young children caught in the middle.
After Gem Mutlu came Marlenny Ramdehal, a senior U.S. probation officer who supervised Brian Walshe from November 2021 until his arrest. Her testimony was short but important. She explained the restrictions Brian was living under: home confinement, meaning he could only leave his residence with pre-approved passes for essential necessities. Employment, education, religion, treatment, attorney visits, court-appointed activities. Groceries. Banking. Grooming. Activities with his children and his mother. That was it. No restaurants without court approval. No deviations from the schedule he submitted every Thursday.
On January 1, 2023, Brian's only approved window was from 3:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. to return his mother to her residence in Swampscott. She had been staying with the family after surgery. That was the only time Brian was authorized to leave his home that day. He did not have permission to go to a restaurant. He did not have permission to go to Home Depot. He did not have permission to go to Lowe's.
The defense made one point on cross: if Brian had wanted to take his wife out to dinner on New Year's Day, he would have needed to file a motion with the federal court, wait for it to be decided, and hope it was approved. It wasn't simple. It wasn't quick. And there was always a chance the request would be denied. Brian was living in a cage of legal restrictions, unable to do ordinary things without permission from the government.
The next witness was Tony Macrina, a district asset protection manager for Home Depot. His testimony was pure foundation: authenticating the surveillance video and receipt from the Home Depot in Rockland where Brian made a purchase on January 2, 2023. The receipt showed $453.54 paid in cash at 5:01 p.m. Among the items: a 12-pound bag of baking soda. The video showed someone matching Brian's description leaving through the "pro exit," the door typically used for lumber and large purchases.
The prosecution has argued that Brian's purchases in the days after Ana disappeared, including cleaning supplies, tarps, and tools, show consciousness of guilt. He was cleaning up evidence. He was preparing to dispose of remains. The defense has argued that these purchases, combined with Brian's subsequent disposal of items in dumpsters, show panic and bad judgment, not murder. He found Ana dead and made terrible decisions. But finding someone dead and disposing of their body, while criminal, is not the same as killing them.
Two more foundation witnesses followed. Kaliroy Palaiologos, a property manager at Chatham West in Brockton, authenticated surveillance video from January 3, 2023, showing activity near the complex's 21 public dumpsters. Christopher Bernasconi from TJ Maxx authenticated video and a receipt from the Norwell store showing a $133.94 purchase on January 4, 2023, paid with a store gift card. The video showed a blurred figure, blurred because the person was a minor.
These witnesses established chain of custody. They authenticated evidence. They weren't dramatic. They weren't emotional. But they were necessary for the prosecution to introduce the surveillance footage and receipts that show Brian's movements in the days after Ana vanished.
And then came Alyssa Kirby.
If Gem Mutlu gave us the portrait of a happy New Year's Eve, Alyssa Kirby gave us the portrait of a marriage falling apart. She was Ana's "new best friend," as they called each other. They lived five minutes apart in the Chevy Chase area of Washington D.C. They had been introduced through Alyssa's brother and sister-in-law. They clicked immediately, "like sisters," Alyssa said. They tried to see each other about once a week. They texted constantly. When Ana was in D.C., they were inseparable.
Alyssa knew about Will Fastow. Ana talked about him all the time. She had a crush on him, Ana admitted. She was interested in him. She talked about their "connection" and what she "wanted to have happen." But Alyssa was careful to note: Ana never told her that anything romantic or intimate had actually happened between them. They talked a lot about Will, but not that "anything had ever actually happened."
Ana had told Brian about the crush. She was open with him about it. And according to Alyssa, Brian "wasn't the jealous type." In fact, Ana kind of wished he was a little more jealous, "in the way that a wife would want a husband to be protective." Their relationship was open and honest, Ana said. They told each other everything.
On Christmas Day 2022, Brian called Alyssa. This was unusual. He rarely or almost never called her. He said he hadn't heard from Ana and was looking for her. Alyssa offered to walk over to Ana's D.C. house and check on her. But within 10 or 15 minutes, Brian texted back: he had gotten in touch with Ana. Everything was fine.
Except everything wasn't fine. Later that day, Ana called Alyssa. She was driving up to Massachusetts for Christmas, and she was furious. She was angry that Brian had called Alyssa and worried her over what Ana felt was nothing. She had only been out of contact for an hour and a half or two hours, and Brian was already calling her friends in a panic. There was "already some strife," Alyssa said, and this had made it worse.
Four days later, on December 29, Alyssa and Ana went out together. They started at a bar across from where they lived, then went to a karaoke dancing bar. They were out for about six hours. And during those six hours, Ana finally broke down.
"She was really upset," Alyssa testified. "She was kind of breaking down because everything had been really hard, which, Anna was always a very strong person, so that was very unusual for her. And she was just really upset about so much. She had really hit a breaking point."
What was Ana upset about? Everything. Her marriage had been strained for a long time. She was exhausted from traveling back and forth between D.C. and Massachusetts. She had found out that Brian's federal case had been delayed, and she believed he was responsible for the delay. She wanted to be with her kids. She felt like she was the one holding everything together while Brian's legal problems dragged on.
Ana wanted Brian to "take responsibility," Alyssa said. She wanted him to accept accountability for the art fraud conviction, even if that meant jail time, so that their family could finally move forward. "We'll be there," Ana had said about herself and the boys. "We'll be waiting for you when you get out." She wanted the uncertainty to end. She wanted to know what their future looked like.
The marriage had lost its intimacy. Ana told Alyssa that she and Brian had not been intimate "for over a year." Brian had been depressed. The strain of the federal case had taken a toll on his mental health and their relationship. Ana felt like her energy was being drained. Brian was calling her several times a day. She felt physically and emotionally exhausted. She had to be "the strong one," and it was wearing her down.
Then there was the psychic. Ana told Alyssa that Brian's mother had gone to a psychic, and the psychic had said Ana was having an affair. Ana thought this was ridiculous. She was upset by it. She felt like Brian's mother had never really liked her, had never wanted her in the picture. The accusation felt like confirmation of something Ana had suspected all along: that her mother-in-law was working against her.
When Alyssa asked how Brian reacted to his mother's psychic accusation, Ana said he thought it was "equally as crazy." He didn't take his mother's side. He didn't believe the psychic. But the fact that his mother had gone to a psychic at all, had sought supernatural confirmation of an affair, suggested a level of family hostility that was taking its toll on the marriage.
The defense cross-examined Alyssa carefully. They wanted to establish that Ana wanted her family together, that she loved Brian despite everything, that she was committed to making the marriage work. Alyssa confirmed that Ana wanted her family together. She confirmed that Ana was willing to wait for Brian even if he went to prison. She confirmed that Ana had never told her anything romantic or intimate had actually happened with Will Fastow.
But then came redirect, and the prosecution asked the question that cut to the heart of the marriage: On December 29, what did Ana tell Alyssa about whether she loved Brian?
Alyssa's answer was devastating. Ana said that Brian would often not tell her he loved her. Instead, he would ask her how much she was in love with him. And this time, Ana answered: "Not as much." Because of everything that had happened. Because of all the strain. Because of the distance and the exhaustion and the delayed federal case and the psychic accusation and the lack of intimacy. Ana was "falling out of love."
Three days later, Ana Walshe disappeared.
After Alyssa Kirby stepped down, the judge read a stipulation to the jury. This is an agreement between the prosecution and defense about certain facts, read into the record so the jury can consider them without needing a witness. The stipulation concerned Brian's federal case:
Brian Walshe was arraigned in federal court on May 11, 2018. On April 1, 2021, he pleaded guilty to wire fraud and interstate transportation scheme to defraud. On October 6, 2021, an initial sentencing hearing took place. Brian was seeking probation and restitution. The government was seeking 30 to 37 months in prison plus restitution of approximately $475,000. As of January 2023, Brian had not been sentenced. The case was still pending.
This is the federal case that had consumed Brian and Ana's marriage for years. The art fraud conviction. The uncertain sentence. The possibility of prison. The financial pressure. It was the backdrop against which everything else in their lives unfolded. And according to the prosecution, it was one of Brian's motives for murder: if Ana disappeared, if she was no longer around to take the children, if Brian could present himself as a single father with sole custody, maybe the federal judge would show mercy. Maybe he could avoid prison.
With the stipulation read, the prosecutor stood up and said the words that marked the end of their case: "Your honor, the Commonwealth rests."
Eight days. Dozens of witnesses. Forensic evidence. Digital evidence. DNA evidence. Surveillance footage. Google searches. And now it was over. The prosecution had presented everything they had. The question was whether it was enough.
The defense didn't think so. Attorney Larry Tipton immediately moved for a required finding of not guilty, a legal motion asking the judge to dismiss the case because the prosecution had failed to present sufficient evidence. It's a motion that's almost always denied, but it's important because it forces the defense to articulate their theory and creates a record for appeal.
Tipton's argument was focused and sharp. He said the prosecution's entire case rested on a "three-pronged approach" to motive: financial interest, using the children to avoid prison, and the affair. But none of these prongs, Tipton argued, had been proven with sufficient evidence to support an inference beyond a reasonable doubt that Brian premeditated murder or manifested specific intent to kill.
Financial interest? Not established. Using the children to avoid prison? Not established. The affair? Even if the prosecution had proven Ana had an affair with Will Fastow, they had failed to prove Brian even knew about it. The witnesses testified that Brian wasn't jealous when Ana told him about her crush. He didn't react with rage or violence. He thought his mother's psychic accusation was "equally as crazy." Where was the evidence that Brian knew about an affair and was driven to murder because of it?
The prosecutor responded methodically. She pointed to the evidence that Brian was the only adult in the house after Gem Mutlu left. She pointed to Ana's fitness and health, demonstrated by her vigorous exercise class at Bar Method on December 31. She pointed to the bloody slippers, bloody bath towels, bloody carpet, and broken Gucci necklace. She pointed to the Google searches about cleaning blood from wood floors. She pointed to the purchases of cleaning products. She pointed to the cut on Brian's thumb and his purchase of band-aids and antibiotic cream.
As for Brian's knowledge of the affair, the prosecutor argued there was evidence. Brian told police he monitored the Chase credit card statement. That statement included a plane ticket to Dublin over Thanksgiving 2022. Brian told police Ana had only gone to Serbia to see her mother, but the credit card showed a trip to Dublin. He searched Will Fastow's name on December 25. He researched emergencies in buildings Ana managed in D.C. The evidence, the prosecutor argued, was sufficient for the jury to find that Brian was aware of Ana's relationship with another man.
And then there was the missing phone. Brian told Gem Mutlu on New Year's Eve that he had misplaced his phone, that it felt "liberating" to be without it. But records showed the phone was repeatedly unlocked and connected to a power source during the time it was supposedly missing. The prosecutor argued Brian was using the missing phone as an alibi, explaining why he wasn't contacting Ana, covering his tracks for the trips to Lowe's and the dumpster behind the liquor store.
Finally, there was the elaborate web of lies. Brian told friends, family, and police that Ana had left for a work emergency in D.C. on New Year's morning. That was false. He lied about his movements. He lied about his purchases. He lied about everything. The prosecutor argued these lies were evidence of consciousness of guilt, evidence sufficient for the case to go to the jury.
The judge agreed. Applying the Latimore standard, which requires viewing all evidence and reasonable inferences in the light most favorable to the Commonwealth, the judge found the evidence sufficient for the case to proceed. The motion for required finding of not guilty was denied. The defense would now have the opportunity to present their own case.
Tomorrow, the defense begins presenting their case. They can call witnesses if they choose. They can present evidence. They can try to create reasonable doubt in the minds of the jurors. Given their strategy of conceding disposal while contesting murder, they'll need to give the jury something to hold onto, some explanation that makes sense of Brian's horrific conduct without making him a murderer.
The defense has already previewed their theory: Ana died of sudden natural causes, possibly related to the exhaustion and sleep changes Alyssa Kirby testified about, and Brian panicked. He found his wife dead, knew he was already facing federal prison, knew how it would look, and made the worst decisions of his life. He disposed of her body. He lied to everyone. But he didn't kill her.
It's a bold theory. It requires the jury to believe that a healthy 39-year-old woman who had just completed a vigorous exercise class simply died in her sleep. It requires them to believe that Brian's response to finding his wife dead was to research body disposal, buy cleaning supplies and tools, dismember her remains, and scatter them across Massachusetts. It requires them to believe that the Google searches starting at 4:55 a.m. on January 1, including "how long before a body starts to smell" and "how to dispose of a 115 pound woman's body," were the desperate searches of a panicked husband, not the research of a man planning a murder.
But remember: the defense doesn't have to prove any of this. They don't have to prove Ana died of natural causes. They don't have to prove Brian didn't kill her. They don't have to prove anything at all. All they have to do is create reasonable doubt. If even one juror looks at the evidence and says, "I think he probably did it, but I'm not certain beyond a reasonable doubt," that's enough for a hung jury. And if all twelve jurors have that doubt, that's an acquittal.
Day 8 ended with the prosecution's case complete and the defense's case about to begin. The champagne bottle with its hopeful inscriptions sits in evidence. Ana's words, "We are the authors of our lives," echo through the courtroom. She couldn't have known, when she wrote those words around midnight as 2023 began, that she had less than four hours to live. She couldn't have known that the man standing next to her, the man who wrote "Love, Brian" on that same bottle, would be charged with her murder.
She couldn't have known, when she wrote those words, that she had less than four hours to live. The champagne bottles were signed around midnight as the new year arrived. Gem Mutlu left at 1:30 a.m. By 4:55 a.m., someone was searching on the family's devices for how long it takes a body to start smelling. Ana never saw the sunrise of the year she hoped would be "the best one yet."
Or maybe she did know something was wrong in her life, even if she couldn't have imagined this ending. Maybe that's why she hit a "breaking point" on December 29. Maybe that's why she told her best friend she was "falling out of love." Maybe that's why she was exhausted and drained and contemplating taking the children to D.C. Maybe Ana Walshe knew her marriage was ending, one way or another.
The question for the jury is how it ended. Murder or sudden death. Premeditation or panic. Guilt beyond a reasonable doubt or reasonable doubt that prevents conviction. That's what they'll be asked to decide after closing arguments.
Day 8 was strategically essential for both sides, though for very different reasons. The prosecution needed to close their case on an emotional note, reminding the jury that Ana Walshe was a real person with real friends who loved her. The defense needed to establish that the marriage, while troubled, wasn't the kind of explosive situation that leads to murder.
Consider what the jury has absorbed over these eight days. They've seen crime scene photos and forensic analysis. They've heard about Google searches and surveillance footage. They've watched DNA experts explain statistical probabilities and chain of custody. It's been a lot of science, a lot of data, a lot of clinical detail. By Day 8, there's a risk that Ana Walshe has become an abstraction: "the victim," "the deceased," "the biological material found on the hatchet."
Gem Mutlu and Alyssa Kirby brought Ana back to life. They reminded the jury who she was: a friend who brought pastries, a mother who ached to be with her children, a wife who signed champagne bottles with messages of hope, a woman who finally broke down and admitted she had hit a breaking point. These witnesses served the same function as victim impact statements, except they came in the middle of the evidentiary case rather than at sentencing.
The prosecution's decision to end on this emotional note was deliberate. They wanted the jury to feel Ana's absence when they went home that night. They wanted the jurors to think about those three boys who lost their mother. They wanted the "falling out of love" testimony to echo in jurors' minds, a marriage deteriorating, a wife pulling away, a husband who might have decided that if he couldn't have her, no one would.
Gem Mutlu gave the prosecution something valuable: the contrast between the "joyful" New Year's Eve and Brian's "not panicked" tone three days later. If your wife had been missing for three days, wouldn't you be frantic? Wouldn't you have called everyone you knew immediately? Wouldn't your voice betray desperation and fear? Brian's calm, as Gem perceived it, suggests either that Brian already knew Ana wasn't coming back, or that Brian is simply a person who doesn't show emotion the way most people do. The prosecution wants the jury to believe the former. The defense would argue the latter.
This is actually a subtle but important point about human nature and how we judge others. Some people respond to trauma with visible distress. They cry, they panic, they fall apart. Others respond with what appears to be calm, a kind of emotional shutdown that can look like indifference to outsiders but is actually a different way of processing shock. The prosecution is betting that the jury will interpret Brian's calm as the calm of a guilty man who already knows what happened. The defense would say it's the calm of a man in denial, a man who hasn't yet processed the reality of the situation, a man whose emotional responses don't match what we expect because people are, as Gem himself said, "complex."
But Gem also gave the defense something valuable: confirmation that New Year's Eve was genuinely happy. Brian and Ana were laughing together. Talking together. Taking pictures together. Serving food together. There was no argument. No tension. No warning signs. If Brian was planning to murder his wife in a few hours, he was hiding it extraordinarily well. And if he was capable of hiding murderous intent that effectively, why wasn't he capable of hiding it when the police came asking questions? Why did he make so many obvious mistakes afterward?
This is the paradox at the heart of the prosecution's case. They're arguing that Brian was cunning enough to plan and execute a murder while appearing completely normal to a dinner guest, but stupid enough to search for body disposal on devices connected to his Google account, make purchases that could be traced, and leave biological evidence scattered across multiple locations. The defense can argue that these two portraits, the calculating murderer and the bumbling amateur, don't fit together. Either Brian was smart enough to fool Gem Mutlu on New Year's Eve, or he was dumb enough to leave a trail of evidence a mile wide. It's hard to be both.
The probation testimony established the cage Brian was living in. He couldn't leave his house without permission. He couldn't go to a restaurant. He couldn't take his wife out for New Year's dinner without filing a court motion and hoping it was approved. This matters because it shows how constrained Brian's life had become. The prosecution might argue this constraint was a motive: Brian was trapped, facing prison, watching his wife build a separate life in D.C. while he was stuck in Massachusetts. The defense might argue it shows how carefully Brian was following the rules, how much he had to lose by doing anything that might jeopardize his freedom.
But there's something else in this testimony that deserves careful attention. Brian requested that January 1st window, the 3:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. pass to return his mother to Swampscott, back on December 22nd. Nine days before Ana disappeared. Nine days before, according to the prosecution, he would need a window of time to leave his home and dispose of evidence.
Here's a theory worth considering: What if that December 22nd request was evidence of premeditation? Brian has been monitoring Ana's credit card. He's seen the Dublin trip over Thanksgiving. He's searched Will Fastow's name on Christmas Day. He knows, or believes he knows, that his wife is having an affair. He's facing federal prison. His world is collapsing. And he decides: New Year's Day. That's when it happens.
So he files for the window. He knows his mother won't actually need transport on January 1st, she left on December 29th, but the request gives him cover. It gives him a reason to be out of the house. It gives him opportunity. Then Gem Mutlu comes over for New Year's Eve, and the dinner becomes part of the alibi. Look how happy we were. Look how joyful. Look how in love. Why would I kill her after a night like that?
The problem with this theory is obvious, and the defense will hammer it. If Brian planned this murder for nine days, why the Google searches? A man who premeditated murder for over a week doesn't search "how long before a body starts to smell" at 4:55 a.m. on the day of the killing. He already knows. He's already figured out his disposal plan. He's already bought his supplies, quietly, over time, in ways that can't be traced.
And who watched the kids? If Brian killed Ana in the early morning hours, the three boys were asleep upstairs. Did he leave them alone while he cleaned up? Did he dismember his wife's body while his children slept above him? And why didn't they see anything? Why wasn't there a bloody crime scene when they woke up?
And why was he so careless afterward? If this was planned, why the trail of evidence? Why the receipts? Why the surveillance footage? Why the Google searches tied to his account? Ana was gone for weeks at a time in D.C. If Brian wanted to plan a murder, he had ample opportunity to research, prepare, and execute without leaving a digital trail a mile wide.
All of this speaks to something sudden. Either a sudden argument that escalated to violence, a rage killing rather than a planned execution. Or sudden unexpected death, Ana's body giving out after the exertion of her exercise class, the champagne, the late night, the exhaustion she'd been feeling for weeks. The question the jury will ultimately have to answer is whether the prosecution has proven premeditated murder beyond a reasonable doubt, or whether some other explanation, planned or unplanned, intentional or accidental, remains possible.
The retail witnesses were necessary but not dramatic. They authenticated evidence. They established chain of custody. They put Brian at Home Depot and documented his purchases. The prosecution needs this foundation to argue that Brian was buying supplies to clean up a murder scene. The defense doesn't dispute that Brian made these purchases; they just dispute why. Cleaning up after a murder is very different from cleaning up after finding your wife dead.
Alyssa Kirby was the most important witness of the day. She gave the prosecution evidence of a marriage in crisis: no intimacy for over a year, Ana feeling drained, the psychic accusation from Brian's mother, Ana hitting a "breaking point," Ana "falling out of love." These details paint a picture of a relationship that had deteriorated to the point where something had to give.
The prosecution's theory has always been that Brian had motive to kill Ana. They've offered multiple theories: financial gain from life insurance, avoiding prison by remaining the primary caregiver, and rage over the affair. Alyssa Kirby's testimony strengthens all three. A marriage without intimacy, a wife contemplating taking the children to D.C., a mother-in-law accusing Ana of infidelity, a wife who admitted she was "falling out of love" with her husband, all of this creates a portrait of a man who might have felt his marriage, his family, his entire life slipping away.
But here's what's important to understand about motive evidence: it proves nothing by itself. Motive is not an element of murder. The prosecution doesn't have to prove why Brian killed Ana, only that he did. And just because someone has a motive doesn't mean they committed the crime. Millions of marriages end in divorce every year. Millions of spouses feel their partners pulling away, feel their relationships deteriorating, feel the pain of lost intimacy and broken trust. Almost none of them commit murder. Having a motive to do something is very different from actually doing it.
The defense can argue that the prosecution is inviting the jury to engage in speculation. Yes, Brian might have had reasons to want out of the marriage. Yes, the marriage was troubled. Yes, Ana was contemplating changes that would have affected Brian's relationship with his children. But none of this proves he killed her. It just proves he had a difficult life, a complicated marriage, and real problems. Welcome to the human condition.
But Alyssa also gave the defense ammunition. Ana wanted her family together. She was willing to wait for Brian even if he went to prison. She never told Alyssa that anything romantic or intimate actually happened with Will Fastow. Brian wasn't jealous when Ana told him about her crush; he thought his mother's psychic accusation was "equally as crazy." And Ana had been feeling exhausted, sleeping differently, hitting a wall of physical and emotional depletion. The defense can use this to support their sudden death theory: Ana was burned out, her body was giving out, and on New Year's morning it finally failed.
The exhaustion testimony is particularly important for the defense. Alyssa described Ana as someone who was usually very energetic, passionate, staying up late and getting up early. But toward the end of December, there was a shift. Ana was falling asleep earlier. She was sleeping later. She told Alyssa she felt tired and burnt out. She had cancelled plans on December 20th because she wasn't feeling well. The defense can argue this wasn't just emotional exhaustion; it was physical. Ana's body was telling her something was wrong. And on New Year's morning, whatever was wrong finally caught up with her.
Is this theory plausible? Medically, yes. Sudden unexplained death in adults does happen. Cardiac arrhythmias can kill without warning. Pulmonary embolisms can strike healthy people. Undiagnosed conditions can take lives suddenly and without explanation. The question is whether the jury finds it more plausible than the alternative: that Brian killed her.
The motion to dismiss was expected and its denial was expected. But the arguments are important because they preview what both sides will emphasize in closing. The defense will hammer on the lack of evidence that Brian knew about an affair. They'll argue the prosecution's motive theories are speculation, not proof. They'll remind the jury that motive isn't an element of the crime, and that speculating about why someone might have done something doesn't prove they actually did it.
The defense's argument is worth understanding in detail. They identified what they called a "three-pronged approach" by the prosecution: financial motive, using the children to avoid prison, and the affair. Then they systematically attacked each prong.
Financial motive: The prosecution has suggested Brian stood to gain from Ana's life insurance and financial accounts. But the defense argues this hasn't been proven with sufficient specificity. What exactly would Brian inherit? How much? And more importantly, where's the evidence that Brian knew about these financial benefits and calculated that murder was the best way to access them?
Using children to avoid prison: The prosecution has suggested Brian believed that remaining the primary caregiver would help him avoid prison time. But the defense argues there's no evidence Brian thought this way. Where are the conversations, the emails, the searches showing Brian was calculating how to use his children as a get-out-of-jail-free card?
The affair: This is where the defense argued most forcefully. Even if Ana had an affair with Will Fastow, even if the prosecution has proven that, they have not proven that Brian knew about it in a way that would provoke murderous rage. The witnesses testified that Brian wasn't jealous. He thought his mother's psychic accusation was crazy. He didn't confront Ana or Will. He didn't react with anger. Where's the evidence of a man driven to murder by jealousy?
The defense isn't saying these motives don't exist. They're saying the prosecution is asking the jury to infer premeditation and intent from speculation about motive, and that's not the same as proof beyond a reasonable doubt. You can speculate about why someone might commit murder all day long. But speculation isn't evidence. And inference upon inference doesn't add up to certainty.
The prosecution will emphasize the totality of the evidence: the bloody items, the Google searches, the purchases, the lies, the disposal of remains. They'll argue that taken together, these facts point to only one conclusion: Brian killed Ana and tried to cover it up. They'll remind the jury that circumstantial evidence can be just as powerful as direct evidence, that you don't need a witness to the killing if the circumstances make any other explanation unreasonable.
This is where the rubber meets the road. The prosecution is arguing that when you put all the pieces together, they form a picture that can only be explained by murder. The Google searches about body disposal. The purchases of cleaning supplies and cutting tools. The disposal of remains in dumpsters. The lies about Ana leaving for work. The blood in the home. The biological evidence on the tools. Each piece might be explainable on its own, the prosecution will argue, but together they tell a story of premeditated murder.
The defense will counter that each piece is exactly that: explainable on its own. The Google searches came after Ana died, not before. The purchases were made in response to finding a dead body, not in preparation for creating one. The disposal was an act of panic, not premeditation. The lies were the desperate attempts of a man who knew no one would believe him. None of this proves murder. It proves disposal. It proves lying. Brian has pleaded guilty to those crimes. But murder requires proving that Brian killed Ana, not just that he got rid of her body afterward.
The burden of proof in a criminal case is "beyond a reasonable doubt." This is the highest standard in our legal system, and it exists for a reason. We would rather let guilty people go free than convict innocent people. That's not a flaw in the system; it's a feature. It's the constitutional protection that my father spent his life defending, even when it cost him everything.
My father, Steven M. Askin, was prosecuted twice by the system he spent his career defending people against. The first time, in 1994, for protecting attorney-client privilege against what he believed was unconstitutional government surveillance. He went to prison for seven months. The second time, in 2009, for helping people understand their constitutional rights from a coffee shop. He was convicted of unauthorized practice of law for the "crime" of educating people about due process. Both times, the system proved it could destroy anyone who challenged it too effectively.
That's why trials like this one matter so much. Not because I have any special insight into whether Brian Walshe is guilty or innocent. I don't. None of us do. That's for the jury to decide. But because how we conduct these trials, how we respect the burden of proof, how we honor the presumption of innocence, says everything about who we are as a society.
Understanding this standard is crucial to understanding why the defense moved to dismiss and why the judge denied that motion. The Latimore standard that governs motions for required finding requires the judge to view all evidence in the light most favorable to the prosecution. If any reasonable jury could find the defendant guilty based on that evidence, the motion must be denied. The judge isn't deciding whether Brian is guilty. The judge is deciding whether there's enough evidence for a jury to make that decision.
The answer here is yes. There's enough evidence. The Google searches alone are enough to let this case go to a jury. The disposal of remains, which Brian has pleaded guilty to, combined with the bloody evidence found in the home, creates a circumstantial case that a jury could reasonably find proves murder.
But "enough evidence to go to a jury" is very different from "enough evidence to convict." The jury's job is harder than the judge's. The jury has to weigh the evidence, assess credibility, consider alternative explanations, and decide whether the prosecution has eliminated reasonable doubt. That's a much higher bar than the judge faced today.
The defense's sudden death theory is medically possible. Healthy adults do sometimes die suddenly of cardiac arrhythmias, pulmonary embolisms, or other conditions that leave no visible trace on autopsy. The medical examiner in this case testified that without a body to examine, they cannot determine cause or manner of death. The defense can argue that the prosecution is asking the jury to assume murder when sudden death remains a possibility.
But "possible" isn't the same as "probable" or "reasonable." The prosecution will argue that Ana's vigorous exercise class hours before she died, combined with the Google searches about body disposal starting at 4:55 a.m., make sudden natural death extremely unlikely. Healthy 39-year-olds who complete exercise classes don't typically drop dead a few hours later. And if Brian found Ana dead of natural causes, why was he researching body disposal instead of calling 911?
The defense has an answer: panic. Brian knew he was facing federal prison. He knew how it would look. He knew no one would believe him. So instead of calling for help, he tried to make the problem disappear. It was stupid. It was criminal. But it wasn't murder.
Here's what I want you to understand about the burden of proof: it's not about making the jury 100% certain. That's impossible in any case. It's about making them certain enough that they would act on that certainty in the most important decisions of their own lives. Would you stake your life, your freedom, your family's future on the prosecution's theory? That's the question the jury has to answer.
Whether the jury believes this theory will depend on many things: how the evidence is presented in closing arguments, what witnesses (if any) the defense calls, how the jury instructions frame the issues, and ultimately, what twelve strangers think when they sit down together to deliberate.
We're now eight days into this trial, and the state of the case can be summarized like this:
The prosecution has established that Ana Walshe disappeared on or around January 1, 2023, and has never been seen or heard from since. They've established that Brian disposed of items containing Ana's blood and DNA in dumpsters across Massachusetts. They've established that Brian made Google searches about body disposal starting at 4:55 a.m. on New Year's Day. They've established that Brian lied to friends, family, and police about Ana's whereabouts. They've established that Brian purchased cleaning supplies and tools in the days after Ana vanished. They've established motive theories: financial pressure, the federal case, the affair with Will Fastow.
The defense has established, or at least argued, that the forensic evidence doesn't prove murder. No blood spatter was found in the home. The DNA evidence can't tell us how or when biological material was deposited. Items found in compacted trash may have been contaminated through transfer. Brian's DNA was excluded from some key pieces of evidence. The medical examiner can't determine cause or manner of death without a body. Healthy adults do sometimes die suddenly of natural causes.
The defense has also established that the marriage, while troubled, had moments of genuine happiness. New Year's Eve was joyful. Ana wanted her family together. Brian wasn't jealous. The "affair" may have been more crush than consummation. Ana was exhausted and sleeping differently, which could support a sudden death theory.
What hasn't been established is what actually happened in the early morning hours of January 1, 2023. There are no witnesses. There is no murder weapon definitively identified. There is no body. There is no cause of death. There is only circumstantial evidence pointing in one direction, and a defense theory pointing in another.
This is why the presumption of innocence matters so much. It's easy to look at the evidence and think "he probably did it." The Google searches are damning. The disposal of remains is horrifying. The lies are damning. But "probably" isn't the standard. "Beyond a reasonable doubt" is the standard. And reasonable doubt can exist even when the defendant probably committed the crime.
Think about it this way: if you were on trial for your life, would you want the jury to convict based on "probably"? Would you want them to assume guilt because the evidence looks bad, even if there's an alternative explanation they can't rule out? The presumption of innocence protects all of us, including people who might actually be guilty. That's the price we pay for a system that errs on the side of freedom rather than conviction.
Tomorrow, the defense gets its turn. Will they call witnesses? Will they put on a medical expert to testify about sudden unexplained death in adults? Will they call character witnesses for Brian? Will Brian himself take the stand?
That last question looms over everything. All signs point to yes. Brian has been expected to testify throughout this trial. The defense's entire strategy, conceding the disposal while contesting the murder, almost requires him to take the stand and explain himself. How else does the jury hear his version of events? How else do they understand why a man who found his wife dead of natural causes would research body disposal, buy cleaning supplies and tools, dismember her remains, and throw them in dumpsters? Without Brian's own words, the sudden death theory remains an argument. With his testimony, it becomes a story the jury might actually believe.
The risk of testifying is enormous. If Brian takes the stand, the prosecution gets to cross-examine him. They get to confront him with every lie he told, every search he made, every purchase, every movement. They get to ask him why he dismembered his wife's body. They get to ask him why he threw her remains in dumpsters. They get to try to break him, to catch him in contradictions, to show the jury that he's a liar who can't be trusted.
But the defense has boxed itself in. They've conceded so much that Brian may be their only way out. If he can take the stand and credibly explain what happened, if he can convince the jury that he found Ana dead and panicked, if he can make them understand the terror of a man already facing prison who knew how it would look, that might be enough to create reasonable doubt. The jury wants to hear from him. They want to understand. And the defense knows it.
We'll find out tomorrow what the defense decides to do. For now, the prosecution has rested, the judge has denied the motion to dismiss, and the case moves to whatever evidence Brian Walshe's attorneys choose to present. Ana Walshe remains missing, her body never recovered, her fate the subject of a trial that will determine whether her husband spends the rest of his life in prison.
Three young boys are waiting to learn what happened to their mother. Whatever the verdict, their lives have been shattered. If Brian is convicted, they'll grow up knowing their father murdered their mother while they slept upstairs. If Brian is acquitted, they'll grow up with unanswered questions about how their mother died and why their father disposed of her body. There is no happy ending here. There is only the hope that the system will produce the right answer, whatever that answer turns out to be.
As the defense begins its case, watch for several key developments:
First, will the defense call a medical expert on sudden unexplained death? Their theory depends on the jury believing that Ana could have died of natural causes. Without expert testimony to support that theory, it remains just an argument. With an expert who can explain the medical literature, show that healthy adults do sometimes die suddenly, and testify that Ana's reported exhaustion and sleep changes are consistent with conditions that can cause sudden death, the theory becomes much more credible.
Second, will the defense call character witnesses for Brian? People who knew him, worked with him, saw him with Ana and the children? The prosecution has painted a picture of a man capable of murdering and dismembering his wife. Character witnesses could paint a different picture: a devoted father, a loving husband who made terrible decisions under impossible circumstances, a man who simply isn't capable of the violence the prosecution alleges.
Third, will Brian testify? This is the biggest question. If he does, watch how he handles cross-examination. Watch whether he can explain the Google searches, the purchases, the lies, the disposal of remains. Watch whether the jury believes him.
Fourth, watch the closing arguments. Both sides will get one final chance to address the jury directly, to tell the story they want the jury to believe. The prosecution will emphasize the totality of the evidence. The defense will emphasize reasonable doubt. The side that tells the more compelling story will have the advantage.
Fifth, watch the jury instructions. The judge will explain the law to the jury, including the elements of first-degree murder, the burden of proof, and how to evaluate circumstantial evidence. These instructions matter because they frame how the jury thinks about the evidence. If the instructions emphasize reasonable doubt and the presumption of innocence, that benefits the defense. If they emphasize that circumstantial evidence can be just as powerful as direct evidence, that benefits the prosecution.
Finally, watch the deliberations. We won't know what's happening inside the jury room, but we'll know how long they're deliberating. A quick verdict usually favors the prosecution; jurors who are convinced of guilt don't need much time to agree. A long deliberation suggests disagreement, which usually favors the defense; if some jurors have doubt, they may be able to convince others. A hung jury, where the jurors cannot reach unanimous agreement, results in a mistrial and the prosecution would have to decide whether to retry the case.
As you read this, the jury is already deliberating. They've heard all the evidence. They've received their instructions. They've been sent to a room to decide Brian Walshe's fate. And now they sit, perhaps at home tonight, thinking about what they've seen and heard over nine days of trial.
So let me ask you the same questions they're wrestling with:
Do you believe the prosecution has proven beyond a reasonable doubt that Brian Walshe murdered Ana? Not that he probably did it. Not that he likely did it. Not that no one else could have done it. Beyond a reasonable doubt.
Or do you have questions? Do you wonder why there's no blood spatter if Ana was beaten to death? Do you wonder why Brian's DNA was excluded from some of the tools allegedly used in the crime? Do you wonder how a healthy 39-year-old woman who completed an exercise class hours earlier could have died in her sleep?
Do you believe the sudden death theory? Can you imagine finding your spouse dead, knowing you're already facing prison, and deciding that the best course of action is to dismember the body and throw it in dumpsters? Is that what panic looks like? Or is it what guilt looks like?
Do you believe the premeditation theory? Did Brian request that January 1st window nine days in advance because he was planning to kill his wife? Or was it just a schedule request that happened to give him opportunity after something unexpected occurred?
Think about the testimony we heard on Day 8. Gem Mutlu described a "joyful" New Year's Eve where everyone was laughing and hopeful. Alyssa Kirby described a woman who was "falling out of love" and had hit "a breaking point." Both of these things can be true at the same time. People are complex, as Gem said. Marriages are complicated. You can have a lovely dinner with friends and still be in a relationship that's falling apart. Does the fact that New Year's Eve was happy make murder less likely? Or does it just mean Brian was good at hiding his intentions?
Think about Brian's demeanor when he reported Ana missing. Gem said his tone was "not panicked." Is that evidence of guilt? Or is it evidence of shock, of denial, of a personality that doesn't express emotion the way we expect? We've all met people who stay calm in crisis while others fall apart. Does calm equal guilt? Or are we reading too much into tone of voice?
Think about the Google searches. They started at 4:55 a.m. on January 1. If Brian planned this murder for nine days, why was he searching for body disposal information? The prosecution says it shows consciousness of guilt, that Brian was refining his plan in real time. The defense says it shows this wasn't planned at all, that Brian woke up to find Ana dead and didn't know what to do. Which interpretation makes more sense to you?
Think about what we don't know. We don't know exactly how Ana died. We don't have a body. We don't have a murder weapon definitively identified. We don't have eyewitnesses. We don't have a confession. We have circumstantial evidence that points toward murder, and a defense theory that points toward sudden death. Neither side can prove their version with certainty. That's why we have juries: to weigh imperfect evidence and make imperfect decisions about imperfect people.
These are the questions twelve strangers are wrestling with right now. And as I've said throughout this trial, Justice Is A Process. We're not here to declare Brian innocent or guilty. We're here to make sure the system works the way it's supposed to. To ask the hard questions. To examine the evidence. To hold everyone, prosecution and defense alike, to the constitutional standard.
Ana Walshe deserves justice. Her three sons deserve the truth. Brian Walshe deserves a fair trial with his constitutional rights protected. These things are not in conflict. They're all part of the same system of justice that only works when we hold everyone accountable.
Let me know in the comments what you think. Watch the testimony. Ask your own questions. And remember: the burden of proof is on the prosecution. Brian Walshe doesn't have to prove he's innocent. He doesn't have to prove Ana died of natural causes. He doesn't have to prove anything. All the defense has to do is create reasonable doubt.
Do you have reasonable doubt? Or are you convinced beyond a reasonable doubt that Brian Walshe murdered his wife?
The jury will decide. We're watching to see if they get it right.
Want to watch the testimony yourself? Here's everything from Day 8:
FULL DAY - NO BREAKS EDITION:
Commonwealth v. Brian Walshe - Day 8 (No Breaks)
INDIVIDUAL WITNESS VIDEOS:
Witness 1 - Gem Mutlu (Real estate professional, New Year's Eve dinner guest)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aJ5QqYmFi7U
Witness 2 - Marlenny Ramdehal (Federal Probation Officer)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QVnkqOWrEEc
Witness 3 - Tony Macrina (Home Depot Asset Protection)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3pSTeuVFKgI
Witnesses 4 & 5 - Kaliroy Palaiologos & Christopher Bernasconi (Chatham West & TJ Maxx)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O_timQdZgU4
Witness 6 - Alyssa Kirby (Ana's best friend, "falling out of love" testimony)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HjvjreNUv_8
Motion to Dismiss (Defense argues insufficient evidence, Judge denies)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iBST0mH2Sso
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