As she read her victim impact statement into the record, Madyson Milke asked that the court not show mercy to the man convicted of murdering her mother, calling for the maximum sentence allowed.
The court agreed.
Christopher Milke was sentenced March 19 in Gage County District Court to two life sentences in prison to be served consecutively for charges related to the murder of Tammy Leslie in September 2024 in the Beatrice home that they shared.
Milke, 53, was convicted in February of first-degree murder in the shooting death of 52-year-old Tammy Leslie early on the morning of Sept. 8, 2024.
During the trial, the prosecution said he screwed the doors of the home shut to prevent their son and daughter from leaving after killing Leslie, and deleted videos from cameras set up around the house, including one aimed into the bedroom where Leslie’s body was found.
In all, District Court Judge Rick Schreiner sentenced Milke to life in prison for killing Leslie, a second life sentence for kidnapping, three years for false imprisonment (both related to preventing his children from leaving the house after the murder), 49 to 50 years for using a firearm to commit a felony and 49 to 50 years for tampering with evidence. All the sentences are to be served consecutively.
After the sentencing, defense attorney Timothy Noerrlinger said an appeal would be filed.
As she read her statement, an emotional Madyson discussed her relationship with her mother and what she and her younger brother, Jack, had lost due to the crime.
“She lifted me up when life felt too heavy. She celebrated my victories and held my hand through every struggle. I always knew she was in my corner,” she said. “… The anchor in my life is no longer here. Since the day she was taken, I've had to carry pain, responsibility and trauma no one should have to face. … There's been no space or time to properly grieve.”
She also talked about the atmosphere her father created within the house.
“The home I grew up in should have been a place of love and safety. Instead, it became a place of control and fear,” she said. “He nailed doors shut inside the house. He told me it was for our safety. Told me it was OK, but it wasn't. That wasn't normal. That was control, that was manipulation. He also installed cameras inside the house, not for protection, but for surveillance, to monitor us, to control us, to make sure we were constantly aware that we were being watched, judged and possibly punished. We had no privacy, no peace. That house was no longer a home. It was a cage.”
Then she addressed her father.
“You don't even look like someone who feels remorse. You act like you still deserve sympathy, but this is your fault. All of it,” she said. “… You are not the father I remember from when I was a child, the man who held my hand when I was scared or told me he loved me. That man is gone, or maybe he never really existed.”
Madyson Milke said that because her mother wasn’t there to speak, she would do so for her.
“She cannot ask for justice, but I can, and I'm asking this court everything I have, please do not show mercy to the man who showed none to her,” she said. “… This is not my dad. This is the man who murdered my mother.”
When Schreiner asked him if he had anything he wanted to say, a confrontational Milke obliged.
“There wasn’t nothing in this case that was fair,” he said, citing a pillowcase that hadn’t been tested for fibers because it came from the bed that he and Leslie shared. He also mentioned the knife found in their bedroom and said he hadn’t been allowed to present his evidence, have access to videos or call his witnesses.
“There wasn’t anything fair about this trial, not one God damn thing,” he said, his voice rising.
He then said he was done. Then the judge spoke.
“’I finally killed somebody.’ Those are your words as you went to get another beer out of the refrigerator,” Scheiner said. “This isn’t a who-done-it.”
Milke interrupted him, his voice and volume rising as he spoke: “I never said it was. It was self defense. If you can’t see that, you shouldn’t be a judge and they shouldn’t be a prosecutor.”
When Schreiner began detailing the facts as presented at trial, Milke interrupted him again, shouting accusations about the truth and Leslie’s conduct. Schreiner told him was not going to listen to his outburst and could have him removed from the courtroom to have the sentence read to him at the Gage County Sheriff’s Office.
Schreiner then discussed his conduct during his daughter’s statement, when he said he saw him smiling, chuckling and shaking his head.
“I have been around a while, and I have never seen a defendant have so much fun in a murder trial and be so disrespectful to the victims. Just amazes me,” he said.
“The evidence presented at trial was simple and it was overwhelming,” Schreiner told Milke. “You've done everything you can to avoid the consequences of your actions, you apparently have no idea what Tammy’s children suffering (from) those consequences, and in the presentence investigation, you noted that you don't even see them as victims. Apparently, you are. You've expressed no remorse, and your actions in this courtroom today leave this court with little hope you ever will have any remorse. …
“They will live with your choices and actions for the rest of their lives. You, sir, will live with this for the rest of your life as well,” he said. “Your ability to victimize and terrorize Tammy's children and anyone else ends today. It ends now. It ends for eternity. The sentence I'm about to impose is evidence of society's desire, and this court's intent, that you never draw another free breath outside the walls of an institution under the jurisdiction of Nebraska Department of Correctional Services.”
He then pronounced the sentence.
