For most people, burying a child is the ultimate heartbreak—a wound that never truly heals. But for Addie Heyliger, that grief was compounded by a second tragedy that tested her faith, drained her spirit and ultimately became a powerful testament to a mother’s unshakeable love.
Addie’s 21-year-old son, Alex, was fatally shot last August while attending a pool party in Houston. Just as she was laying Alex to rest, Heyliger found herself in a courtroom, fighting for the future of her other son, Milton.
Milton, 25, had taken a security job at a hookah lounge in San Marcos while attending school. One night, a belligerent patron—already drunk—was denied entry. When the man became aggressive and put his hands on Milton, things escalated. Milton hit him. The man stumbled down some stairs, hit his head, later died from his injuries and Milton was charged first with assault, then with manslaughter.
“It was like being thrown into another storm while you’re still drowning from the last one,” Addie said.
The legal ordeal stretched nearly three years—delayed by the pandemic and burdened by uncertainty. During that time, Milton’s life was on hold. So was Addie’s. The court date finally came – at the same time she was burying Alex.
“I prayed every single day: ‘God, don’t take another child from me,’” she recalled. “My faith was tested in every way imaginable.”
Throughout the trial, Addie sat alone in the courtroom. Because Milton faced possible conviction, character witnesses were not allowed inside until sentencing. But she never wavered in her support, even as she mourned Alex and carried the weight of what could happen to Milton.
“I had never cried so much in my life,” she said. “And I’m a strong woman. But this… this broke me.”
The trial itself revealed inconsistencies: police failed to measure the stairwell where the patron fell and medical examiners couldn’t definitively say the man died from a punch. There were no broken bones on his face—only injuries to the back of his head from the fall. Witnesses, including the bar owner’s own staff, testified that the man had raised a fist at Milton.
Even the prosecution’s own narrative began to unravel.
Addie credits their attorney, Brian Roark, a high profile criminal defense attorney out of Austin, with never giving up.
“When Milton voiced his concerns to me that the jury didn’t look like a jury of his peers, I shared with him that we have Brian who has done nothing but fight tirelessly on his case and how I wholeheartedly trusted him to defend him,” she said.
The trial ended a few weeks after Alex’s funeral. When the verdict came down—not guilty on all charges—Addie could hardly breathe.
“I almost passed out,” she said. “It was just overwhelming relief. My son was getting his life back after three years of limbo.”
But what stayed with Addie most was what happened afterward. A juror approached her in the hallway and asked to hug her. She said, “I’ve got three boys. I told my husband, ‘I hope I don’t have to fight with these jurors tomorrow to send this boy home. He’s innocent.’”
Addie cried in her arms.
Another juror told her, “We’re in there crying. We can’t believe your son had to go through this. None of us thought he should’ve even been here.”
Today, Milton is rebuilding. He just finished with electrician trade school and is finding his footing after years of being in legal limbo.
But Addie is still healing—and speaking out.
She’s encouraging parents to teach their children – especially their sons – de-escalation tactics.
“I used to tell Milton, because of your size, you’re always going to be seen as the aggressor,” she said. “I’d tell him not to fight, not because he was weak, but because I knew the world wouldn’t see the whole picture. So it’s important that we support our sons, love them and teach them to de-escalate. And most importantly, never stop praying.”
Her story is a painful reminder that this could happen to anyone.
“This could happen to any of our children,” Addie said. “We raise them right, we pray over them and still, we find ourselves in situations like this. The only way through it is with love and strength—and sometimes, just sheer survival.”
