Before the Headlines, There Was Laura Leigh
- Mom At Arms
- 2 hours ago
- 6 min read
Remembering the life behind the story, and the lessons it leaves for the rest of us.
Some stories are hard to tell because the person you’re writing about was once just part of your everyday life.
Laura Hughes was someone I knew personally.
Long before the headlines, before the tragedy, before the words domestic violence ever became attached to her name, she was simply "Laura Leigh" (although "simple" was not her default) to the people who grew up around her.
Laura’s sister, Kelly, has been one of my childhood friends for many years. Because of the work I do in communities focused on domestic violence awareness and education, stories like Laura’s already hit close to home. Knowing Laura personally makes this one hit even harder.
With that said, Kelly has given me permission to share these memories, and I do so with deep respect for her family. The goal isn’t to revisit the horror of what happened. It’s to remember the person many of us knew long before the headlines.
Before Laura became a headline, she was Laura Leigh.
She was a mother to two beautiful daughters.
A protective, big sister to Kelly... and at one point, even to me.
An aunt who shared a special bond with Kelly’s daughter.
Like so many women, Laura’s life was woven into the everyday lives of the people around her. She was part of childhood memories, family stories, and the ordinary moments that quietly become the most meaningful over time.
When Kelly and I were kids in middle school, Laura was a teenager, probably sixteen or seventeen. At that age she seemed so grown up to us. She had a Mustang, which automatically made her the coolest person we knew.
Every once in a while, she’d drive us up to the convenience store near their house so we could buy candy. It was such a small thing, but when you’re a kid, something like that feels like a full-blown adventure.
And back then, it absolutely did.
Those kinds of moments stick with you.
She would let us hang out in her room and play with her music and her makeup. I remember cassette tapes scattered around, bands like Heart and even some Janet Jackson mixed in there. Sometimes she would sit there patiently playing with our hair while Kelly and I talked about whatever things kids talk about.
I didn’t grow up with a big sister, so those moments with Laura felt special. In a lot of ways, she really did fill that “big sister” role for me growing up.
Years later, when Kelly and I were in our twenties, we lived together for a while in a townhouse we were convinced was haunted. Laura would come by sometimes, and when she did, she’d usually end up doing our hair or giving us grief about the cheap toilet paper we had bought for the house.
Because Laura was so “one with the earth,” Kelly and I used to joke that having her around was probably the best protection we had against any ghosts or bad energy in that place.
It sounds funny now, but those little ordinary moments are the ones that stick with you the most.
As we got older, and before addiction began to change things, Laura had this free-spirited personality that always stood out. The best way I can describe it is that she was a bit of a hippie at heart. She had this calm energy about her, almost like a real-life Yoda, always reminding people not to worry so much about life.
She always seemed to have that effortless look, too. Flowy clothes, and when we were kids, she had that big rockstar hair straight out of the 80s. The kind of style, with the “big bangs,” that made her stand out without even trying.
Laura was also incredibly talented. She was a cosmetologist, and honestly one of the best I’ve ever seen. She had a natural ability to make people feel beautiful when they sat in her chair. When I got older, I would go to her to have my hair done whenever I could, because she really was that good.
Those are the memories that remind me Laura was always more than the hardest chapter of her life.
For her daughters and the family who loved her, those are the pieces of their mom, sister, and aunt that deserve to be remembered. The woman who laughed easily, who had a gift for making people feel beautiful, and who once drove two little girls to the store in her Mustang for candy because it would make their whole day.
Like many people who struggle with addiction, Laura’s life became complicated over time.
As her struggles with drugs and alcohol grew, relationships around her changed too. Laura and I didn’t always see eye to eye during those years. Addiction has a way of straining even the closest relationships, and there were times when concern and worry created distance between us... and especially between Kelly and me.
But like many people trying to move forward from difficult chapters, Laura had also begun working on mending some of those relationships. Rebuilding trust and reconnecting with family and friends isn’t always easy, but it’s often a sign that someone is trying to find their way back.
Anyone who has loved someone battling addiction understands how complicated that road can be.
In 2024, Laura’s life ended in an act of domestic violence. She was killed by her boyfriend, Christopher Blevins, who later pleaded guilty to aggravated manslaughter. According to investigators, her body was hidden in a refrigerator and transported to Belleplain State Forest in New Jersey, where her remains were discovered months later.
On March 6, 2026, Blevins was sentenced to 17 years in prison.
Seventeen years. For many, that may seem like a long time.
For the people who loved Laura, though, the loss is measured in something very different than years.
It is measured in birthdays she won’t see… milestones she won’t be there for… and the space she leaves behind in the lives of her daughters and family.
The headlines told the shocking parts of the story.
But headlines never tell the whole story.
They don’t show the grief carried by parents, siblings, children, nieces, nephews, and friends. They don’t show the ripple effect that spreads through the lives of everyone who loved that person.
Laura’s life cannot be reduced to the worst thing that happened to her.
She was a mother.
A sister.
An aunt.
A friend.
A talented cosmetologist.
A free-spirited soul who tried to remind people not to worry so much about life.
And like every life, hers carries lessons.
I personally believe that every hardship someone faces in life holds a lesson for someone else to learn from. Sometimes those lessons come from the hardest stories to tell.
If Laura’s story encourages someone to recognize danger sooner, reach out to someone struggling with addiction, support someone trying to rebuild relationships, or step away from a situation that isn’t safe, then her life continues to carry meaning beyond the tragedy that ended it.
Because the Laura Leigh her daughters, her niece, and her family carry with them isn’t the one from the headlines.
It’s the one with the rockstar hair.
The one who loved music and makeup.
The one who could make people feel beautiful in her chair.
The one who drove two little girls to the store in her Mustang just to buy candy.
And turned an ordinary afternoon into an adventure.
That is the Laura Leigh who deserves to be remembered.
And her story should serve as a signal to others that even in the face of hardship, we still have the power to rise above the things that try to define us.
Before closing, I also want to recognize Laura’s sister, Kelly. Keeping a loved one’s memory alive after tragedy takes incredible strength. Kelly has shown that strength by speaking openly about Laura’s story and working to ensure that her sister’s life is remembered not just for how it ended, but for the lessons it can offer to others.
If You or Someone You Know Needs Help
If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic violence, help is available.
You can contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or visit www.thehotline.org for confidential support 24 hours a day.
If you or someone you know is struggling with substance abuse or addiction, you can contact the SAMHSA National Helpline at 1-800-662-HELP (4357) for free and confidential treatment referral and information.
If you are a survivor looking for additional resources, education, or support, you can also visit the Survivor Support Hub on this website, where tools and information are available to help survivors navigate healing and safety.
You are not alone. Help is available.
Rest in peace, Laura Leigh Hughes, 9/6/1974 - 12/21/2024
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