Alyssa Bradburn, 33, was sentenced to 340 months in prison on April 2 after a jury convicted her of first-degree murder with a firearm enhancement for the 2024 killing of her father, Timothy Bradburn. She shot him as he walked through the front door of their Northwest Spokane home, still holding his suitcase and keys after returning from a trip to Hawaii.
She called 911 herself. Told dispatchers the body was in the entryway. Said she'd be waiting outside.
According to Fox News, Judge Julie McKay imposed a base sentence of 280 months plus a 60-month firearm enhancement in Spokane County Superior Court, a total amounting to roughly 28 years behind bars. The sentence actually exceeded what prosecutors had requested: 320 months plus the firearm enhancement.
This was not a crime born of sudden rage or a split-second decision. Deputy Prosecuting Attorney Emily Sullivan told the court that the evidence painted a far more chilling picture:
"The evidence… demonstrated an extreme and elaborate degree of planning."
Bradburn admitted she began planning her father's murder weeks ago. She practiced with the firearm inside the home. She sought help loading it at a gun range. She journaled about the plan. Then, on June 25, 2024, when Timothy Bradburn came home from Hawaii and stepped through the front door, she ambushed him.
She told detectives she believed she shot him three times: twice in the chest and once in the head. The autopsy determined he had actually been shot four times.
Bradburn initially claimed self-defense, alleging her father had abused her and her dogs. She later withdrew those accusations. Her defense team reportedly argued she suffered from mental health issues and struggled to distinguish fantasy from reality, though no direct quotes from her attorney were made public. Her legal team declined to comment.
The self-defense narrative didn't just fail in court. It was actively dismantled by the people closest to Timothy Bradburn.
His son, Trace Bradburn, delivered a victim impact statement that cut straight through the accusations his sister had lobbed at their father:
"My father was everything to me."
"The false accusations made against him have deeply tarnished his memory."
"My dad was an amazing man, and he never did anything to hurt anyone."
Trace Bradburn also spoke to the permanent, grinding weight of what his sister had done:
"I just have to live my life with that… and it just guts me every day."
A man who came home from vacation was executed in his own entryway. Then his daughter tried to destroy his reputation from the witness stand to justify it. When that didn't work, she dropped the allegations entirely.
Perhaps the most unsettling detail from the trial wasn't the planning or the journaling or the target practice. It was Bradburn's demeanor.
Prosecutors noted that she showed little emotion during the proceedings and at times smiled in court. During her own testimony, she said she "enjoyed" the trial process. She told the court she believed she deserved punishment and would accept her sentence.
"I killed Tim Bradburn, and I am guilty."
"I'm not afraid anymore. I'm OK with going to prison for however long."
There's a particular kind of cruelty in a defendant who treats a murder trial like an experience to be savored. Her father's name was reduced to a statement of fact. Not "my dad." Tim Bradburn.
Judge McKay did not mince words about the gravity of the conviction:
"Unfortunately, the crime Ms. Bradburn decided to start her criminal history with is the most significant and serious that we have."
Beyond the 340 months, the court ordered 36 months of community custody upon release, restitution related to her father's death, and a permanent no-contact order barring her from any communication with her brother Trace.
The system, in this case, worked. A jury saw through the self-defense claim. A judge handed down a sentence that exceeded the prosecution's own request. The evidence was overwhelming, the planning undeniable, and the verdict unanimous.
But for Trace Bradburn, no sentence fills the doorway where his father last stood, suitcase in hand, home from Hawaii, stepping into an ambush set by his own daughter.