Chief WINK Investigates Reporter Chorus Nylander
•3/25/2026

LABELLE, Fla. (WINK) — It’s been a grueling 365 days for the family of Priscilla Hallihan, time defined by an agonizing silence that shouldn't be there.
Sunday marks one year since the 33-year-old mother of four was shot and killed through her own living room window while sitting on her couch. Speaking exclusively with Chief WINK Investigates Reporter Chorus Nylander, the Hallihan family returned to the scene of the crime—a place of "bad memories" they hope to eventually transform back into a sanctuary for the children Priscilla left behind.
Walking back into the home where his firstborn child took her last breath is a mountain Glenn Hallihan never thought he’d climb.
"Just my first time back in this house," Glenn said, his voice heavy. "I said I’d never come back."
Inside, the rooms are empty, but the air is thick with the memory of a woman described as the "heart and soul" of her family. Priscilla’s sister, Amy Hallihan, remembers her as someone who accepted everyone for who they were. But of all the titles she held, "mother" was her favorite.
"She was always about her kids," said her brother, Travis Hallihan. "It’s just four kids that are motherless now, and it’s just kind of hard."
Investigators allege that 17-year-old Antonio Arenivar was the one behind the trigger.
According to deputies, the evidence is digital and chilling:
The Pin: Arenivar allegedly dropped a digital pin with Priscilla's address 30 minutes before the shooting.
Authorities say he made incriminating comments about the incident on FaceTime shortly after the shots were fired.
Despite these leads, the legal process has been slow, leaving the family in a state of suspended grief as they wait for the judicial process to play out.
"Everybody who is involved needs to be held accountable," Glenn Hallihan insisted. "I want justice for my daughter."
For Priscilla's mother, Maria Garcia, the grief is a "horrible nightmare" that plays on a loop. Speaking to WINK News, Maria asked that her face not be shown, her voice cracking as she described losing her "best friend."
For Glenn, the loss hits hardest in the quiet moments of the morning. "I look at my phone all the time, waiting on that call," he said. "Waiting on that call that is never coming back again."
Despite the trauma associated with the house, the Hallihan family refuses to let the shooter have the last word. They plan to rebuild and refurnish the home for Priscilla’s four young children.
They want to fill the space with the safety and joy their mother once provided, honoring the fact that this was her first home—a place she truly loved.
At a local gravesite, the flowers are kept fresh—a testament to a family that refuses to let Priscilla’s memory wither while they wait for the scales of justice to balance. She isn’t alone; her final resting place sits next to her grandmother’s grave in Immokalee.