She had already made up her mind. Ketsy Alexis, a 30-year-old mother of three in Port St. Lucie, Florida, had told her husband she wanted out of their seven-year marriage. She’d found evidence of cheating, confronted him over the phone, and even told police about the threats he made when she dared to say the word divorce. But somewhere between the moment she chose to stay — for her kids, for her job, for the life she was still trying to hold together — and the Monday morning officers pulled up to the 2700 block of Southwest Ensenada Terrace, that choice was taken away from her forever.
Port St. Lucie Police found Ketsy and her 31-year-old husband, Jimsley Estime, both shot dead inside their home. Investigators believe it was a murder-suicide. Two of their babies — a one-year-old and a two-year-old — were in the house when it happened. Nobody knows exactly how long those children sat in that home before their six-year-old sibling came back from school and walked in on the unthinkable.
The community around Southwest Ensenada Terrace didn’t see it coming — or at least that’s what folks are saying. Neighbors described the family as quiet and seemingly happy. But the police records told a very different story, one that had been building since at least September 2025, months before those fatal shots were fired.
Back in September, Ketsy had called the cops. She’d gone through her husband’s things while he was away on a truck driving job and found what she believed was proof he’d been cheating. She called him, they argued, and that’s when Jimsley allegedly crossed a line that should have sent alarm bells ringing loud and clear. According to the police report, he told her flat out — she’d be dead if she left him. “You know me, you don’t know what I can do,” he allegedly wrote to her through WhatsApp. The messages were in Creole. A department employee translated them. The threat was real and documented.
Ketsy also opened up to officers that night about years of abuse she’d never reported — violence that reportedly started while she was still pregnant with their first child. She said she hadn’t documented any of it before. Officers gave her a victims’ rights packet, domestic violence resources, and told her to call 911 if things escalated. They even suggested she leave the house temporarily. She said she couldn’t. She had the kids to think about. She had work. So she stayed.
By January 2026, a warrant had been approved against Jimsley Estime on charges of threats and intimidation. He was arrested on January 26. It looked, for a brief moment, like the system was finally stepping in. Then February 5 came around. Ketsy submitted a non-prosecution affidavit — she didn’t want to testify, didn’t want to press forward with the charges. It’s a decision that breaks your heart to read about now, but it’s also one that domestic violence experts say happens all the time. Leaving — or fighting back through the courts — is never as simple as it looks from the outside.
What happened in that home on the day officers found them both dead has not been fully detailed by investigators. The exact sequence of events, the final hours, the last moments of that family’s story — those answers are still being pieced together. What is certain is that three children are now growing up without either of their parents, a neighborhood is shaken to its core, and a woman who tried to reach out for help is gone. Ketsy Alexis did some things right. She called the police. She talked. She tried. And the system, the circumstances, and the man she married still failed her in the worst way imaginable.
