JUST IN: “I’m Not Unstable. I’m Exhausted.” — Friend Reveals Tawnia McGeehan’s Final Admission About Her Condition as Therapy Records Show Increased Appointments in Last Month… But None Were Completed

In the most intimate and heartbreaking disclosure yet from the murder-suicide investigation of 11-year-old Addi Smith and her mother Tawnia McGeehan, a close friend has revealed that the last thing McGeehan ever said about her own mental state was: “I’m not unstable. I’m exhausted.” The statement, made during a private conversation days before the February 15, 2026, tragedy at the Rio Hotel & Casino in Las Vegas, came as McGeehan’s therapy records show she dramatically increased her number of scheduled appointments in the final month of her life — yet none of those sessions were ever completed.

This new detail, confirmed through witness statements and court filings unsealed Friday, February 21, adds a devastating human dimension to a case already filled with custody battles, obsession with loss, and desperate last-minute communications. McGeehan, 38, fatally shot her daughter Addi before taking her own life in what Las Vegas Metropolitan Police have ruled a murder-suicide. While no official motive has been released, the combination of her final admission of exhaustion, the spike in unkept therapy appointments, the 1,982-word email sent at 1:47 a.m. with its blacked-out parenting schedule attachment, and the overheard argument in which she reportedly shouted “You won’t take her from me” suggests a woman overwhelmed to the breaking point by fear, fatigue, and the relentless pressure of a decade-long custody war.

Sources close to the investigation describe the therapy records as “particularly troubling.” In the 30 days before the Vegas trip, McGeehan scheduled more than double her usual number of sessions with her long-time therapist — yet every single appointment was either canceled by her or simply never attended. The friend who heard the “I’m not unstable. I’m exhausted” admission told investigators McGeehan sounded defeated rather than erratic, repeating that she was “just so tired of fighting for everything.”

This revelation arrives alongside previously reported elements: a nurse’s testimony that McGeehan was “obsessed with losing Addi Smith,” medical notes from August 2025 documenting “episodes under extreme stress,” and a frantic doctor visit three days before departure for a medication adjustment. Together, they form a portrait of a mother who insisted she was not unstable — only profoundly, crushingly exhausted — in the final weeks of her life.

The Final Admission: Exhaustion, Not Instability

The friend, who spoke on condition of anonymity due to the sensitivity of the case, said the conversation took place during a brief phone call in the days after Brad Smith filed his January 2026 motion to adjust the 2024 joint custody order. McGeehan reportedly sounded drained but lucid as she pushed back against any suggestion that her mental health was deteriorating.

“She kept saying, ‘I’m not unstable. I’m exhausted,’” the friend recalled. “She talked about the custody filing, the cheer mom texts, the constant fear that Addi would be taken away. She wasn’t ranting — she was just so, so tired.”

This insistence on exhaustion over instability echoes the relative’s earlier description of McGeehan during her February 12 doctor visit: “frantic yet resolute,” seeking a medication tweak while appearing overwhelmed rather than manic. The therapy records now confirm the pattern: McGeehan recognized she needed help and actively tried to get it by booking more sessions — but for reasons still under review, she never followed through with any of them.

Investigators are examining whether the uncompleted appointments reflect avoidance, logistical barriers tied to the upcoming cheer trip, or a deeper psychological withdrawal as her fears intensified.

Therapy Records and the Last Month of Struggle

The records, partially reviewed in the ongoing probe, show McGeehan had been in consistent therapy for depression since at least 2022, with sessions typically every two to three weeks. In the final 30 days before the tragedy, she requested and was approved for eight additional appointments — a sharp increase that her therapist noted as a positive step toward managing stress.

Yet none occurred. Some were canceled by McGeehan the day before; others simply went unfulfilled when she failed to appear or respond to reminders. The last scheduled session was set for February 13 — two days before the Vegas trip — and was never completed.

This gap between intention and action is now a focal point. Forensic psychologists consulted by investigators suggest it could indicate a rapid deterioration where McGeehan recognized her exhaustion but lacked the capacity to follow through, or that external pressures (the custody filing, cheer conflicts, and impending mediation) made attendance feel impossible.

The records also reference her “episodes under extreme stress” from August 2025, and the court-submitted copy still has the unresolved issue of a missing physician’s signature on the final page.

Tying It All Together: Custody Fear, the 1:47 a.m. Email, and the Argument

The exhaustion admission fits seamlessly with other final communications:

The 1:47 a.m. Email: On February 15, McGeehan sent Brad a 1,982-word message titled “Schedule Change,” attaching a draft parenting schedule with one item completely blacked out. The email repeated themes of loss and control.
The Overheard Argument: Neighbors reported hearing McGeehan shout “You won’t take her from me” during a confrontation with Brad in late January.
Rejected FaceTime Calls: The night before mediation, she rejected three calls from Brad’s phone; the fourth, from McKennly’s number, connected briefly.
The Doctor Visit and Nurse Testimony: Urgent medication request three days prior; nurse described obsession with “losing Addi.”

Collectively, these paint a woman who was not in denial about her struggles but was consumed by fatigue from fighting on every front: custody court, cheer community bullying, and the fear that her daughter would be taken away.

The Cheer Trip and Final Hours

Addi was thriving in her first season with Utah Xtreme Cheer. The Las Vegas trip for JAMZ Nationals was supposed to be joyful. Early Sunday posts showed Addi backflipping in the Rio room at 5 a.m. But by Sunday morning they had missed events, triggering the missing persons flyer and eventual discovery of the bodies at 2:30 p.m.

Scene evidence — cracked phone with open texts, hidden recorder, sealed envelope — continues to be analyzed alongside the new therapy details.

Community Grief and Renewed Calls for Reform

The Utah Xtreme Cheer community remains shattered. Addi is remembered as a bright, kind girl who loved performing. The gym issued a statement mourning her loss and calling for better mental health support for parents in competitive sports.

In West Jordan, blue ribbons still flutter on homes. Vigils continue, with families sharing stories of Addi’s smile and energy. A GoFundMe for Brad Smith’s family has raised funds to support healing and the children’s future.

Connie McGeehan has said the family had “no idea” of the depth of her daughter’s despair. The friend who heard the final “I’m not unstable. I’m exhausted” admission added: “She was fighting so hard, but she was just so tired.”

This case has ignited national discussion about high-conflict custody cases involving mental health. Experts urge courts to require ongoing therapy compliance, risk assessments when a parent expresses fear of total loss, and integrated support for children showing signs of emotional compartmentalization — such as giving the two houses different names.

A Mother’s Final Words and a Child’s Legacy

The phrase “I’m not unstable. I’m exhausted” may stand as Tawnia McGeehan’s last public admission about her inner world — a plea to be seen not as broken, but as someone carrying an unbearable load. That she increased therapy appointments yet completed none suggests a woman who knew she needed help but could no longer bridge the gap to receive it.

As investigators continue their work — now focusing on why those final therapy sessions went uncompleted and what the blacked-out section of the parenting schedule truly said — the focus for many is on honoring Addi’s short, bright life and learning from the tragedy.

The lights of the Rio still shine over Las Vegas, but for those touched by Addi and Tawnia, the world feels forever heavier with the weight of what exhaustion can hide.