November 24, 2025 • 33 mins
Discover the shocking true crime story of Serena Fontaine, the Pompano Beach psychic and mother of four, who was murdered by her father, Robert Kincaid, after uncovering his secret relationship with her stepbrother, Tyler Kincaid. Set in Marina Vista, Florida, January 2024, this case involves family betrayal, shocking secrets, and a brutal home murder. Follow the investigation by Pompano Beach Police, the forensic evidence, and the high-profile trial of Robert Kincaid, where self-defense claims and alleged jury bribery stirred controversy.
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Pompino Beach, Florida, January twenty twenty three, A pastel sunrise
hummed over the canals and luxury condos of the Marina
Vistigated community. Just after seven thirty a m. A maintenance
worker noticed something odd. The sliding glass door at Unit
twelve B was open. Inside, broken crystals glittered on the
tile floor, Candles lay toppled, and the body of a
(00:22):
woman once known to Palm Beach tabloids as the Psychic
to the Elite, lay motionless on her meditation rug. By
mid morning, police tape rippled in the sea breeze, while
reporters gathered outside whispering about a secret that had shattered
one of South Florida's most curious families. The victim was
Serena Fontaine born Darla Kinked, aged forty two. She was
(00:42):
a mother of four and worked as what she called
an intuitive energy consultant. To her clients, she was known
simply as Serena the Psychic. Her business mixed meditation, tarot readings,
and life coaching, and in early January twenty twenty four,
she was busier than ever. Her client list reportedly included
on Miami Dolphins player two Florida state politicians, and a
(01:05):
reality TV housewife from Miami. Serena lived in the Marina
Vistagated Community in Pompino Beach, Florida, a quiet neighborhood with
pastel condos and palm trees that swayed beside blue canals.
Her own condo, Unit twelve B, was decorated like a
spiritual retreat. The walls were painted white, and the air
always smelled like lavender incense in sea salt in every corner,
(01:28):
sack crystals, candles, and pale pink salt lamps. Her bookshelves
were filled with astrology guides and framed New Yorker magazine
covers featuring fortune tellers. Visitors said her home felt calm
and charged with energy, as if the walls hummed. Serena
was born in Albany, New York, in nineteen eighty one.
She studied communications at the State University of New York
(01:50):
and later moved to Florida, hoping to start over after
a difficult divorce. In her late twenties, she began offering
tarot readings from her living room and posting short spiritual
videos online. By twenty twenty, her following had grown large
enough that she launched her own brand, Fontane Energy alignments.
Her slogan was see the Light Within. She often wore
(02:11):
flowing robes, gemstone bracelets, and silver ring shaped like crescent moons.
People who knew Serena described her as patient, gentle, and
deeply curious. She liked herbal tea, journaling at sunrise and
feeding stray cats near the dock behind her building. She
drove a white Tesla with a Good ViBe's only bumper
sticker and kept her phone filled with notes about her dreams.
(02:33):
But beneath her calm appearance, Serena was under stress in
the final months of her life. Her assistant, Rachel Mendel,
told police that Serena singed on edge. In late December,
she had canceled several client sessions, saying her energy fell off.
She began recording voice memos at night describing her dreams.
One of them, recorded just two weeks before her death,
(02:55):
mentioned a kiss that should not exist. Rachel said Serena
had become convinced but someone in her family was vibrating
with lies, though she never said who. In the days
before her death, Serena was making plans for the Nu Bear.
She was outlining a podcast about dream interpretation, and had
just booked a retreat in Sodona, Arizona, to teach a
(03:16):
weekend workshop on trusting your inner frequency. She was also
trying to rebuild her relationship with her oldest daughter, aged seventeen,
who had recently moved back home after a fight. On
January tenth, twenty twenty four, Serena posted her final video
to social media. In it, she smiled at the camera
and said, when truth finally comes into the light, it
(03:37):
can burn, but it also freeze. Viewers thought it was
another motivational post. No one knew it would be her last.
It was Friday, January twelfth, twenty twenty four, a cool
morning in Papino Beach, Florida. The sun was just rising
over the canals, painting the pastel condos of Marina Vista
in soft gold and pink. The air smelled faintly of
(03:58):
saltwater and jazz from the landscaping near the gated entrance.
At seven thirty two a m. Carlos Vega, a fifty
six year old maintenance worker, began his usual rounds with
a cup of gas station coffee in one hand and
a small toolbox in the other. Carlos had worked at
Marina Vista for six years. He was known for being
quiet and dependable, often fixing leaky faucets or changing hallway
(04:22):
lights before most residents were awake. That morning, he had
been sent to Building twelve to check on a report
of a flickering hallway light near the second floor units.
He was humming softly to a Spanish pop song playing
through one earbud when he noticed something strange. The sliding
glass door Unit twelve B was open about six inches,
letting in a cold draft. At first, he thought maybe
(04:42):
someone had just stepped out onto the balfony for coffee,
but when he called out maintenance, no one answered. He
took a cautious step inside. The smell hit him first,
incense mixed with something metallic and sour. The lights were off,
except for a single lamp still glowing pink in the corner.
The white tile floor sparkled with broken crystal pieces and
(05:04):
what looked like spilled red wax. When Carlos turned toward
the living room, he saw Campbell's knocked over, a chair
tipped on its side, and a woman lying face down
on a purple rug, her silk robe soaked in dark red.
For a moment, his mind could not make sense of
what he was seeing. He thought maybe she had fallen
or fainted, But then he saw the wide pool of
blood spreading across the tile and realized she wasn't breathing.
(05:27):
Carlos froze, his knees went weak. Later in his police statement,
he said it was like my body forgot what to do.
He felt his hand shaking so hard that his toolbox
clattered to the floor. In shock and fear, he lost
control of his bladder, leaving a dark spy on his
work pants. He stumbled backward out the door, gasping for air.
(05:48):
Still trembling, Carlos ran down the hall toward the security office,
his boots slapping the tile. The morning sun was bright,
now reflecting off the waterway as joggers and dog walkers
passed outside the gates, unaware of the horror unfolding inside.
By the time Carlos burst into the lobby, he was pale, sweating,
and barely able to speak. The guard on duty, Marissa Powell,
(06:11):
helped him dial nine to one one. Between shaking breaths,
Carlos managed to say, there's blood everywhere. The psychic lady
she's dead. The first police units arrived at Maria Na
Vista at seven forty six am on January twelve, twenty
twenty four. The morning air was cooled around sixty three degrees,
with gulls calling over the canals and a light breeze
(06:33):
carrying the smell of the ocean through the open gate.
Inside the complex, blue and white lights flashed against pastal
walls as residents peaked from balconies in their roads, whispering.
Detective Lydia ramos Age, thirty eight, was the first investigator
on the scene. She was known around the Pompino Beach
Police Department for being calm and careful, a person who
noticed small things others missed. Her partner, Detective Ron Brisco,
(06:56):
arrived moments later. He was a twenty year veteran with
gray at his tes temples and a reputation for blunt talk.
The two detectives walked through the open sliding door of
Unit twelve B, stepping carefully around broken glass. The smell
inside was strange, a mix of sandalwood, incense, sea salt,
and iron. The air felt heavy. A soft hum came
(07:17):
from an air purifier still running in the corner on
the living room floor. Glass shards sparkled like pink ice
under the morning light. Candles were arranged in a half circle,
as if someone had been in the middle of a
ritual or meditation. A crystal bowl had rolled beneath the sofa,
its contents smooth white stones scattered across the tile. In
the center of it all was Serena Fontaine. She was
(07:39):
found sprawled across her meditation rug, her silk robe soaked
in blood. Her head rested awkwardly against a toppled cushion.
Beside her lay a shattered Himalayan salt lamp, its jagged
base covered in red. The scene was silent except for
the faint crackle of burning ensigns. Detective Ramos crouched beside
the body, careful not to disturb anything. The paramedics had
(08:01):
already confirmed Serena was beyond help. Her skin was pale,
her hair damp with blood. Near the temple, the coroner,
doctor Allan Reese, arrived around eight fifteen a m. And
began his preliminary assessment. He determined that Serena had been
struck once in the temple, likely knocking her unconscious, and
then stabbed in the neck with the broken base of
the salt lamp. The wound was deep enough to cause
(08:22):
massive bleeding within seconds. There were no signs of forced entry.
The lock on the sliding door was intact, the windows
were closed, and Serena's jewelry, rings, bracelets, and a gold
pendant were untouched. Her purse and phone sat neatly on
the kitchen counter. Detectives quickly ruled out robbery. Technicians photographed
every inch of the room and collected fingerprints from candle's,
(08:45):
door knobs and the lamp base. When the results came
back later that afternoon, they showed only two sets of prints,
Serena's own and one partial belonging to a family member.
Detective Briscoe, known for speaking his mind, muttered, this wasn't Rand.
Somebody she trusted walked right in outside. The street filled
with news vans. By mid morning, neighbors and flip flops
(09:07):
stood behind yellow tape, filming on their phones as police
loaded the body into a black van. Inside the condo,
Ramos stayed behind, staring at the pink salt crystals scattered
across the ruck. It looks like peace and violence happened
in the same breath, she said quietly, as evidence texts
began bagging items. The investigation had only just begun, but
(09:27):
one thing was clear. Whoever killed Serena hadn't broken in.
They had been welcomed inside. The first person police focused
on was Douglas Doug Fonteine, Serena's husband. Dout was forty
five years old and worked as a mortgage broker at
a mid sized firm in Fort Lauderdale. He drove the
least black bmdough with sand of the floor mats and
(09:48):
golf clubs in the trunk. At first glance, he looked
like a man trying to stay young, spray tan, white teeth,
and fresh hair plugs that didn't quite match his natural color.
He liked wearing bright polo shirts, flashy watch and sunglasses indoors.
Doug met Serena twelve years earlier at a wellness fair
in Bocatin, where she had been giving palm readings at
(10:08):
a booth next to a smoothie bar. Friends said the
couple had chemistry at first, but clashed as the years
went on. While Serena preferred meditation retreats and quiet dinners
at home, Doug liked poker, knights, craft beer, and late
nights watching sports. By January of twenty twenty four, they
were living mostly separate lives under the same roof, sharing
(10:28):
little more than bills and two younger children. Detectives Lydia
Ramos and Ron Briscoe interviewed doug on January thirteen, one
day after Serena's body was discovered. He arrived at the
Pompino Beach Police Department wearing khaki shorts and boat shoes,
saying he had barely slept. He told investigators that he
had been in Boca ratin the night of January eleven,
(10:49):
meeting a client to discuss refinancing of property. He said
he left around ten thirty p m. Drove home to
Fort Lauderdale and fell asleep watching Netflix, but when detectives
checked his phone records, the story fell apart. Between eight
forty seven pm and eleven fifty six pm, Doub had
made and received multiple calls from his secretary, Candy Pillow
(11:10):
Lips Dambers, a thirty two year old woman known in
the office for her bold lipstick and tight dresses. Witnesses
later said the two had been having an affair for
nearly a year. Surveillance footage from a gas station on
US one even showed Doug's BMBO heading south towards Serena's
condo around ten forty pm, not north to book a
ratan as he had claimed at the office. Co workers
(11:33):
described Doug as equal parts sleazy and self pitying. One
colleague told police that Doug often complained about his wife,
saying Serena read his aura like a bleeping paperback novel.
Another said Doug once joked that divorce would cost more
than her funeral. When detectives confronted him with the evidence,
Doug didn't get angry. He got nervous. He rubbed his temples,
(11:54):
sighed loudly, and said, look, I might have lied about
where I was, but didn't kill her. She was the
mother of my kids. He explained the phone calls to
Candy as work related and claimed he had only stopped
near the Marina Vista complex to clear his head. Investigators
noted his defensive tone but lack of visible grief. While
he denied any involvement, police found motive all over his life.
(12:17):
Not only would Doug inherit Serena's business, assays, but he
was also the beneficiary of a five hundred thousand dollars
life insurance policy she had taken out three years earlier.
His finances were struggling, credit card debt, two overdue car payments,
and a business loan in default. Despite his denials, detectives
listed him as suspect number one. For the next several days,
(12:39):
Doug's name filled headlines across South Florida tabloids Psychic's husband
under spotlight. He continued to insist he was innocent, telling
a reporter outside his office, I'd loved her even if
she didn't believe in me. But behind the scenes, detectives
were not convinced. Rams noted in her report that Doug
appears more concerned with public perception than with his wife death.
(13:00):
As January twenty twenty four went on, she quietly began
looking closer, not just at his lies, but who else
in Serena's family might have had something even darker to hide.
The next person detectives focused on was Tyler Kinkid, Serena's
twenty four year old stepbrother. He was thin, pale, and restless,
with shaking hands and dark circles under his eyes. People
(13:24):
who knew Tyler said he had been in and out
of rehab more times than birthdays In the last few years.
Police records confirmed it fre stints and treatment centers, most
recently at a recovery home in Deerfield Beach, which he
left in late December twenty twenty three. By January twenty
twenty four, Tyler was unemployed and living in a one
bedroom apartment near Sample Road, paid for by Serena's stepfather,
(13:47):
Robert Hill. Family friend said Robert was keeping him afloat,
covering not just his rent, but also his treatment bills
and credit card debt. Robert can't say no to him,
One neighbor told police he always thinks Tyler's just one
check away from turning his life around. Tyler had been
close to Serena when they were younger, but things changed
as she grew more successful with her spiritual business, Celestial
(14:10):
Path Wellness. Friends described their relationship as strained and full
of resentment. Serena once told the client that her stepbrother
was a parasite wrapped in pity. She often refused to
lend him money, saying it only fed his addiction. Detectives
Lydia Ramos and Ron Brisco interviewed Tyler two days after
Serena's death. He showed up wearing a wrinkled hoodie, mismatched sneakers,
(14:31):
and smelled faintly of alcohol. Ramos later noted in her
report that his eyes were glassy, his speech was uneven,
and his hands smelled like vodka. Tyler said he'd stop
by Serena's condo around nine o'clock PM on the night
of January eleven. His reason, he told police, was to
borrow some crystals. He said Serena had promised to loan
him a few rose quartz stones for energy work. When
(14:54):
pressed for more details, his story shifted. At first, he
said he only knocked on the door and left when
no one answered. Later, he claimed Serena let him in
for a few minutes before asking him belief. Investigators found
several inconsistencies in his timeline. Security cameras in the condo's
parking lot caught his white Honda Civic pulling in at
nine eighteen PM and leaving just twelve minutes later. That
(15:17):
was less than an hour before Serena's estimated time of death.
Inside the condo, officers found no signs of forced entry
and no fingerprints belonging to Tyler. The only partial print
recovered from the broken salt lamp belonged to another family member. Still,
detectives found Tyler's behavior troubling. He couldn't give a clear
answer about where he went after leaving the condo, saying
(15:38):
only that he drove around for a while before going
on to watch YouTube. In his apartment, police noticed empty
Voca bottles in the trash and a small bag of
white powder on his nightstand. Toxicology results later confirmed alcohol
and bens of aze pines in his system during questioning,
Despite this, he denied being intoxicated that night, telling officers,
(15:59):
I've been sober since Christmas. I just have bad anxiety.
Detective Ramos described him as evasive, emotional, and unpredictable. Still,
without physical evidence connecting him to the murder, they couldn't
hold him. Tyler remained on their list of active persons
of interest, but no charges were filed. As the investigation
continued through January twenty twenty four, police kept him under
(16:22):
quiet surveillance. Neighbors reported seeing him pacing the parking lot
late at night, chain smoking and talking to himself. One
neighbor overheard him mutter she never believed in me. None
of them did. Though Tyler denied any role in Serena's death,
detectives couldn't ignore the tension between them, or the fact
that he was one of the last people to see
her alive. Three days after the murder, on January fifteenth,
(16:46):
twenty twenty four, detectives Lydia Ramos and Ron Brisco gathered
in the small media room of the Pompina Beach Police Department,
surrounded by half empty coffee cups and stacks of interview transcripts. Outside,
the weather was gray and windy, with light rain pattering
against the station's glass doors. Inside, the team was piecing
together the final hours of Serena Fontaine's life, minute by minute.
(17:09):
That morning, they received new security footage from a camera
on the opposite building at Marinafastcondo's. The camera didn't face
Serena's unit directly, but it caught reflections of light flickering
in her windows at around ten forty pm on January eleven,
just minutes before her estimated time of death. Detective Ramos
replayed the footage several times, noting that the flickering seemed
(17:30):
to follow a pattern right dim bright again, suggesting movement inside.
Then came something more chilling, audio from a neighbor's ring
doorbell recorded down the hall. The clip was muffled, but
clear enough to catch a woman's voice shouting, this bleep
is bleeping sick. He's your step son, for bleep's sake.
Detective's froze as they listened. The outburst lasted only seconds,
(17:52):
followed by what sounded like a crash of glass, and
then silence. By comparing timestamps from Serena's phone data, parking, garage,
camp and building key card records, investigators built a rough
timeline of that night. Around ten thirty two pm, Serena's car,
a white twenty eighteen Lexus NX, pulled into the Marina
vistolat She had just returned from a private reading with
(18:15):
a client in Fort Lauderdale, according to her appointment calendar.
At ten thirty six pm, her condo door was unlocked
from the inside, meaning someone she knew was already there.
Police found no sign of forced entry, no broken locks,
and no alarms triggered. From the evidence, detectives believed Serena
entered quietly through the kitchen door, which opened directly into
(18:37):
her small living area. According to what they later reconstructed,
she stopped cold in the doorway after spotting something that
made her blood boil. On the living room couch sat
two people, her stepbrother Tyler Kinked and her stepfather, Robert Hill,
snuggled up and cuddled together. As one witness later put it,
they were half covered by a blanket with two champagne
(18:59):
glasses still so wedding on the coffee table. The site
investigators concluded likely sparked a violent confrontation. Serena, known for
her fiery temper, when betrayed, reportedly shouted the words caught
on the neighbor's recording. Moments later, the condo's lights flickered,
a sign of the struggle that followed. At ten forty
one pm, the nearby security camera captured a brief shadow
(19:20):
moving past Serena's window of then total darkness. Detectives now
believe Serena walked in on something she was never meant
to see, a discovery that changed the entire course of
the case. For the first time, the investigation was no
longer focused solely on her husband or her troubled step brother.
The evidence pointed to a disturbing family secret, one that
could explain both the rage and Serena's final words, and
(19:43):
the brutal way her life ended. By mid January twenty
twenty four, what began as a domestic homicide had turned
into something far stranger. As Detective Briscoe later told reporters,
once we saw that footage and heard that voice, we
knew this wasn't just a murder. This was the moment
everything about that family cracked open. By the third week
(20:05):
of January twenty twenty four, detectives turned their focus to
Robert Kinkdd, Serena's sixty nine year old father and stepfather
to Tyler Kinkdd. On paper, Robert appeared to be the
picture of retirement success, a man who had done well
in New York and done better in Florida. But investigators
soon learned that the truth behind that image was far
(20:25):
more complicated. Robert had once been a stockbroker on Ball Street,
the founder of a small financial firm called Kinked Investments,
which collapsed during the two thousand and eight financial crash.
Several of his former employees told reporters that after the
company folded, Robert just vanished for a while, eventually resurfacing
in Palm Beach County a few years later. By twenty ten,
(20:48):
he had married his much younger second wife, Janet, who
was also Tyler's mother. The couple moved into a gated
community near Pompino Beach, where Robert took up golf and
morning walks along the intracoastal. He maintained the polished diction
of a former Wall Street professional, but carried the sons
of a man who spent most of his days outdoors.
Neighbors described him as friendly, proper, and always perfectly pressed.
(21:12):
He drove the silver Mercedes, wore linen shirts even in January,
and carry himself with an air of quiet confidence. But
beneath that charm, detectives found a web of digital secrets.
After learning from Serena's phone records that she had confronted
someone in her condo that night, detectives obtained a search
warrant for Robert's electronic devices. His MacBook Air, seized from
(21:33):
his home office, appeared normal at first glance, mostly emails
about country club meetings, brokerage newsletters, and photos of golf trips,
but a digital forensics technician discovered a hidden, password protected
folder within the laptop storage. Inside were dozens of photos,
each labeled only with first names like even Matt and tea.
Several were shirtless selfies of young men. Investigators also found
(21:56):
an encrypted messaging app which contained chat logs with multiple
contacts save under vague usernames. The tone of the messages
was suggestive and personal. One contact sake only as t
K twenty four, matched Hyler Kinkid's known email handle. Though
much of the content was deleted, partial recovery showed messages
discussing trust, keeping, secrets, and late night champagne. When confronted
(22:21):
with the evidence, Robert remained calm but visibly tense. During questioning,
He sat with his arms crossed, speaking in careful, measured sentences.
These are disgusting lies, he said. I have never behaved
inappropriately with my steps and or anyone else. Someone has
clearly hacked my computer. Detective Ramos later wrote in her
notes that Robert appeared more angry than afraid. He insisted
(22:44):
that the photos were just old client headshots and claimed
the encrypted messages were part of a spiritual mentorship group. Still,
investigators found his denials hard to believe. The encrypted app
he used required a private invitation code and was commonly
known among launch enforcement as a platform for discreet hookups.
One of the usernames linked to his account matched another
(23:05):
investigation in Broward County from twenty twenty two. Robert's phone
records also placed him near Marina Vista on the night
of January eleven, less than a mile from Serena's condo,
at ten twenty pm. When asked why, he said he'd
gone for a late drive to clear his head. Neighbors
later told detectives they saw Robert's Mercedes Coup returning to
his driveway just before eleven o'clock PM, its headlights off.
(23:29):
To the investigators, the puzzle pieces were beginning to fit.
Serena's confrontation. The shouting caught on camera, and Robert's hidden
communications all suggested a motive that went beyond money or jealousy.
It pointed to a family secret Serena wasn't supposed to uncover,
and a father who had far more to hide than
he would ever admit. By January twenty, twenty twenty four,
(23:51):
the winter's sun over Pompino Beach burned pale and soft
across the canals. When detectives decided to confront Robert Kinkid
one final time. For more than a week, he had
denied every accusation claiming hackers had planted messages on his
computer and that he had not been near Serena's condo
that night. But investigators now had everything they needed, the
(24:11):
partial fingerprint from the salt lamp, the security footage showing
lights flickering in Unit twelve B, and the timeline placing
Robert near the scene just minutes before Serena's estimated time
of death. Detectives Lydia Remos and Ron Briscoe arrived at
Robert's home the Marina Doon's community shortly after nine am,
becound him dressed neatly in khaki shorts and oppressed golf shirt,
(24:32):
sitting on his screen patio with a newspaper and coffee.
When Ramos presented the lab results and the forensic evidence
tying him to the crime, Robert first laughed softly and
shook his head. You're wasting your time, he said, I
didn't kill my daughter. But when detective Briscoe slid a
printed transcript of one of his encrypted messages across the
table an exchange with Tyler Kinkedd about what Serena might
(24:55):
tell Janet, Robert's hands began to tremble. His voice cracked. Then,
after a long pause, the retired stockbroker broke down completely
between sobs. He told the detectives everything. He said that
on the night of January eleven, Serena had returned home unexpectedly.
She came in through the kitchen and he and Tyler
(25:16):
were snubbled up on the couch, half covered by a blanket,
with champagne glasses still on the table. She froze, he said,
like she'd seen a ghost. Serena began yelling, calling him
sick and disgusting. She threatened to tell his wife Janet everything.
But that wasn't all. According to Robert, Serena also knew
about his offshore bank accounts, money hidden from the IRS
(25:38):
for over a decade. She had proof of it and
said she'd turn it over. I panicked. Robert said she
was going to ruin all of us. He told investigators
that Serena had lunged at him first, waving that bleeping
crystal thing like a weapon, but the physical evidence contradicted
his story. Her defensive wounds showed she had tried to flee,
not fight. Robert admitted that he grabbed the Himalayan salt
(26:02):
lamp from the side table and struck Serena once in
the temple, knocking her to the floor. When she tried
to crawl away, He used the jagged base of the
broken lamp to stabber in the neck. He said he
just wanted her to stop screaming. Afterward, Robert panicked. He
tried to make the scene look like a spiritual ritual
gone wrong, scattering candles and crystals around her body. Tyler,
(26:24):
high and terrified, helped him wipe down surfaces, but accidentally
left partial prints on the weapon. When a confession ended,
Robert went quiet. He did not resist when officers placed
him in handcuffs. Neighbors stepped out of their driveways to
watch as the once respected retiree, always seen walking his
dog and waving politely, was led to a waiting patrol car.
(26:46):
Back at the Broward County Courthouse, Serena's family gathered outside
the steps as news cameras rolled. Her oldest daughter told
reporters through tears, she died for telling the truth. That's
who my mom was. She couldn't stay silent for investigators.
It was the end of a case that had shocked
the coastal community, a story of greed, shame, and secrets
(27:06):
that finally came to light under the bright Florida sun.
The trial of Robert Kinkid began in September twenty twenty
five at the Broward County Courthouse in Fort Lauderdale. The
weather was humid and gray that week, with summer storms
sweeping in off the ocean outside the courthouse. Newsvands lined
the curb and camera crews gathered early each morning to
(27:27):
capture footage of the man once known as the gentleman
investor of Palm Beach. Inside. Every seat in the gallery
was filled journalists, neighbors, and members of Serena's family, of
all waiting for justice nearly two years after her death.
The prosecutor, Angela roue Is thirty eight, was a sharp,
methodical attorney known for her focus in quiet persistence. She
(27:47):
entered the courtroom and pressed navy suits her thick binder
of notes, color coded and marked with sticky tabs. Ru
has told the jury that Robert Kinkedd had murdered his
daughter to hide a dark family secret, his sexual really
relationship with his own steps in, and his hidden offshore accounts.
He didn't act in fear, she said, he acted in
panic because Serena found out the truth. The defense attorney,
(28:10):
Martin Leclair, sixty, was a well spoken lawyer from Miami,
with silver hair and an old fashioned style. Calm and steady.
He told jurors that the killing was not murder but
self defense. According to Leclair, Serena was psychotic and prone
to fits of rage, and Robert had believed he was
about to be attacked. He was terrified of his own daughter,
(28:31):
Leclaire said, pacing slowly before the jury box. She was
not herself that night. This was a tragic accident, not
an execution. Robert himself took the stand on the fifth
day of the trial, wearing a light gray suit and
wire framed glasses. He looked pale and tired. His voice
shook as he told the court that Serena had been
violent and unpredictable in her final months. She came at me,
(28:54):
he said, and I thought she was going to kill me.
I just reacted. But the prosecutor pushed back hard. Ruse
replayed sections of Robert's police confession and presented forensic evidence
showing that Serena's injuries were defensive, not aggressive. She was
trying to get away, Ruis said, firmly, She was running
from you. The court room grew tense as crime seen
(29:15):
photos were displayed. Serena's oldest daughter covered her face and
wept quietly. Her younger son held his grandmother's hand. After
eight hours of deliberation, the jury returned with their verdict
not guilty of murder, excepting Robert's claim of self defense.
The courtroom fell silent. Serena's family sat frozens, several of
them shaking their heads in disbelief. Outside the court house,
(29:38):
reactions were divided. Some said justice had been served, that
the killing had been an awful family tragedy. Others called
it a miscarriage of justice, pointing to rumors that Robert's
wealth and connections had influenced the jury. Unverified reports circulated
online claiming that jurors had received financial favors from friends
of the Kinked family, though nothing was ever proven. Tyler
(30:00):
Kinkedd granted immunity for helping police, was not charged. He
entered another rehab program in late September, this time in
Delray Beach. For Serena's children, the verdict felt hollow. He
destroyed her and got away with it, her oldest daughter
told reporters through tears, money doesn't buy innocence, but it
sure buys freedom. The trial closed without applause or closure,
(30:23):
leaving behind a family still fractured and a community still
whispering about what really happened in Unit twelve B that night.
By September twenty twenty five, the Marina Vista condo where
Serena Fontaine once lived had fallen silent. The balcony plants
were brown and brittle, and the pastal walls were faded
from months of Florida sun. Neighbors whispered that the place
(30:44):
carried an air of sadness, a reminder of the shocking
events that had unfolded two years prior Serena's meditation. Rug
and moonlamps had long been removed, leaving only echoes of
her presence. Detective Lydia Ramos, whose careful work had helped
piece the case together, was promoted to captain that September.
In an interview with the local newspaper, she reflected on
(31:06):
the case's personal toll. It taught me that truth can
rot behind family walls, she said. She remained active in
Pompano Beach, mentoring younger officers and speaking publicly about domestic
crimes and family violence, often referencing the Fonteine case as
a cautionary example. Douglas Dougfontaine's Serena's ex husband remarried within
(31:26):
the year, he relocated to Austin, Texas, taking a quieter
life away from Florida. Tabloids, friends and colleagues described him
as more subdued, though the shadow of his failed marriage
and the scandal that surrounded Serena's death lingered in conversations
at his new office. Tyler Kinkedd, Serena's troubled step brother,
vanished from the public eye after leaving rehab in mid
(31:47):
twenty twenty four. Authorities reported no further arrests or incidents
connected to him. Local friends speculate he moved the way
to start fresh, though he has not been seen in
the Marina Vista area since. As for Robert Kinked, the
tired stockbroker who had claimed self defense, he left the
United States shortly after the trial. He reportedly relocated to
(32:07):
Costa Rica, living in a quiet coastal town with little
public contact. Though legally free, his reputation remained tarnished. Rumors
persisted that he had used wealth and influence to sway
the jury and neighbors in Pompina Beach often recalled him
with suspicion. Even in exile, his name still surfaced in
gossip columns and online forums, a symbol of a family
(32:28):
tragedy that never truly faded from the community's memory. Serena's
four children now live with their grandmother in Orlando. Though
they are protected from the tabloids, the loss of their
mother is a daily presence in their new home. A
small Himalayan salt lamp sits on a shelf, unlit but
a quiet tribute to Serena's memory. Friends and former clients
report that the children have begun to speak about relaunching
(32:50):
their mother's podcast, hoping to tell her story in her
own voice, sharing the lessons and experiences she once sought
to give the world. Though time has passed, the Fontaine's
tragedy continues to ripple through those left behind. The condo
may be empty and the streets quiet, but the story
of Serena Fontaine, her secrets, and the family that could
not protect or remains vivid, a reminder that some truths
(33:14):
cannot be buried, even behind closed doors.
Pompino Beach, Florida, January twenty twenty three, A pastel sunrise
hummed over the canals and luxury condos of the Marina
Vistigated community. Just after seven thirty a m. A maintenance
worker noticed something odd. The sliding glass door at Unit
twelve B was open. Inside, broken crystals glittered on the
tile floor, Candles lay toppled, and the body of a
(00:22):
woman once known to Palm Beach tabloids as the Psychic
to the Elite, lay motionless on her meditation rug. By
mid morning, police tape rippled in the sea breeze, while
reporters gathered outside whispering about a secret that had shattered
one of South Florida's most curious families. The victim was
Serena Fontaine born Darla Kinked, aged forty two. She was
(00:42):
a mother of four and worked as what she called
an intuitive energy consultant. To her clients, she was known
simply as Serena the Psychic. Her business mixed meditation, tarot readings,
and life coaching, and in early January twenty twenty four,
she was busier than ever. Her client list reportedly included
on Miami Dolphins player two Florida state politicians, and a
(01:05):
reality TV housewife from Miami. Serena lived in the Marina
Vistagated Community in Pompino Beach, Florida, a quiet neighborhood with
pastel condos and palm trees that swayed beside blue canals.
Her own condo, Unit twelve B, was decorated like a
spiritual retreat. The walls were painted white, and the air
always smelled like lavender incense in sea salt in every corner,
(01:28):
sack crystals, candles, and pale pink salt lamps. Her bookshelves
were filled with astrology guides and framed New Yorker magazine
covers featuring fortune tellers. Visitors said her home felt calm
and charged with energy, as if the walls hummed. Serena
was born in Albany, New York, in nineteen eighty one.
She studied communications at the State University of New York
(01:50):
and later moved to Florida, hoping to start over after
a difficult divorce. In her late twenties, she began offering
tarot readings from her living room and posting short spiritual
videos online. By twenty twenty, her following had grown large
enough that she launched her own brand, Fontane Energy alignments.
Her slogan was see the Light Within. She often wore
(02:11):
flowing robes, gemstone bracelets, and silver ring shaped like crescent moons.
People who knew Serena described her as patient, gentle, and
deeply curious. She liked herbal tea, journaling at sunrise and
feeding stray cats near the dock behind her building. She
drove a white Tesla with a Good ViBe's only bumper
sticker and kept her phone filled with notes about her dreams.
(02:33):
But beneath her calm appearance, Serena was under stress in
the final months of her life. Her assistant, Rachel Mendel,
told police that Serena singed on edge. In late December,
she had canceled several client sessions, saying her energy fell off.
She began recording voice memos at night describing her dreams.
One of them, recorded just two weeks before her death,
(02:55):
mentioned a kiss that should not exist. Rachel said Serena
had become convinced but someone in her family was vibrating
with lies, though she never said who. In the days
before her death, Serena was making plans for the Nu Bear.
She was outlining a podcast about dream interpretation, and had
just booked a retreat in Sodona, Arizona, to teach a
(03:16):
weekend workshop on trusting your inner frequency. She was also
trying to rebuild her relationship with her oldest daughter, aged seventeen,
who had recently moved back home after a fight. On
January tenth, twenty twenty four, Serena posted her final video
to social media. In it, she smiled at the camera
and said, when truth finally comes into the light, it
(03:37):
can burn, but it also freeze. Viewers thought it was
another motivational post. No one knew it would be her last.
It was Friday, January twelfth, twenty twenty four, a cool
morning in Papino Beach, Florida. The sun was just rising
over the canals, painting the pastel condos of Marina Vista
in soft gold and pink. The air smelled faintly of
(03:58):
saltwater and jazz from the landscaping near the gated entrance.
At seven thirty two a m. Carlos Vega, a fifty
six year old maintenance worker, began his usual rounds with
a cup of gas station coffee in one hand and
a small toolbox in the other. Carlos had worked at
Marina Vista for six years. He was known for being
quiet and dependable, often fixing leaky faucets or changing hallway
(04:22):
lights before most residents were awake. That morning, he had
been sent to Building twelve to check on a report
of a flickering hallway light near the second floor units.
He was humming softly to a Spanish pop song playing
through one earbud when he noticed something strange. The sliding
glass door Unit twelve B was open about six inches,
letting in a cold draft. At first, he thought maybe
(04:42):
someone had just stepped out onto the balfony for coffee,
but when he called out maintenance, no one answered. He
took a cautious step inside. The smell hit him first,
incense mixed with something metallic and sour. The lights were off,
except for a single lamp still glowing pink in the corner.
The white tile floor sparkled with broken crystal pieces and
(05:04):
what looked like spilled red wax. When Carlos turned toward
the living room, he saw Campbell's knocked over, a chair
tipped on its side, and a woman lying face down
on a purple rug, her silk robe soaked in dark red.
For a moment, his mind could not make sense of
what he was seeing. He thought maybe she had fallen
or fainted, But then he saw the wide pool of
blood spreading across the tile and realized she wasn't breathing.
(05:27):
Carlos froze, his knees went weak. Later in his police statement,
he said it was like my body forgot what to do.
He felt his hand shaking so hard that his toolbox
clattered to the floor. In shock and fear, he lost
control of his bladder, leaving a dark spy on his
work pants. He stumbled backward out the door, gasping for air.
(05:48):
Still trembling, Carlos ran down the hall toward the security office,
his boots slapping the tile. The morning sun was bright,
now reflecting off the waterway as joggers and dog walkers
passed outside the gates, unaware of the horror unfolding inside.
By the time Carlos burst into the lobby, he was pale, sweating,
and barely able to speak. The guard on duty, Marissa Powell,
(06:11):
helped him dial nine to one one. Between shaking breaths,
Carlos managed to say, there's blood everywhere. The psychic lady
she's dead. The first police units arrived at Maria Na
Vista at seven forty six am on January twelve, twenty
twenty four. The morning air was cooled around sixty three degrees,
with gulls calling over the canals and a light breeze
(06:33):
carrying the smell of the ocean through the open gate.
Inside the complex, blue and white lights flashed against pastal
walls as residents peaked from balconies in their roads, whispering.
Detective Lydia ramos Age, thirty eight, was the first investigator
on the scene. She was known around the Pompino Beach
Police Department for being calm and careful, a person who
noticed small things others missed. Her partner, Detective Ron Brisco,
(06:56):
arrived moments later. He was a twenty year veteran with
gray at his tes temples and a reputation for blunt talk.
The two detectives walked through the open sliding door of
Unit twelve B, stepping carefully around broken glass. The smell
inside was strange, a mix of sandalwood, incense, sea salt,
and iron. The air felt heavy. A soft hum came
(07:17):
from an air purifier still running in the corner on
the living room floor. Glass shards sparkled like pink ice
under the morning light. Candles were arranged in a half circle,
as if someone had been in the middle of a
ritual or meditation. A crystal bowl had rolled beneath the sofa,
its contents smooth white stones scattered across the tile. In
the center of it all was Serena Fontaine. She was
(07:39):
found sprawled across her meditation rug, her silk robe soaked
in blood. Her head rested awkwardly against a toppled cushion.
Beside her lay a shattered Himalayan salt lamp, its jagged
base covered in red. The scene was silent except for
the faint crackle of burning ensigns. Detective Ramos crouched beside
the body, careful not to disturb anything. The paramedics had
(08:01):
already confirmed Serena was beyond help. Her skin was pale,
her hair damp with blood. Near the temple, the coroner,
doctor Allan Reese, arrived around eight fifteen a m. And
began his preliminary assessment. He determined that Serena had been
struck once in the temple, likely knocking her unconscious, and
then stabbed in the neck with the broken base of
the salt lamp. The wound was deep enough to cause
(08:22):
massive bleeding within seconds. There were no signs of forced entry.
The lock on the sliding door was intact, the windows
were closed, and Serena's jewelry, rings, bracelets, and a gold
pendant were untouched. Her purse and phone sat neatly on
the kitchen counter. Detectives quickly ruled out robbery. Technicians photographed
every inch of the room and collected fingerprints from candle's,
(08:45):
door knobs and the lamp base. When the results came
back later that afternoon, they showed only two sets of prints,
Serena's own and one partial belonging to a family member.
Detective Briscoe, known for speaking his mind, muttered, this wasn't Rand.
Somebody she trusted walked right in outside. The street filled
with news vans. By mid morning, neighbors and flip flops
(09:07):
stood behind yellow tape, filming on their phones as police
loaded the body into a black van. Inside the condo,
Ramos stayed behind, staring at the pink salt crystals scattered
across the ruck. It looks like peace and violence happened
in the same breath, she said quietly, as evidence texts
began bagging items. The investigation had only just begun, but
(09:27):
one thing was clear. Whoever killed Serena hadn't broken in.
They had been welcomed inside. The first person police focused
on was Douglas Doug Fonteine, Serena's husband. Dout was forty
five years old and worked as a mortgage broker at
a mid sized firm in Fort Lauderdale. He drove the
least black bmdough with sand of the floor mats and
(09:48):
golf clubs in the trunk. At first glance, he looked
like a man trying to stay young, spray tan, white teeth,
and fresh hair plugs that didn't quite match his natural color.
He liked wearing bright polo shirts, flashy watch and sunglasses indoors.
Doug met Serena twelve years earlier at a wellness fair
in Bocatin, where she had been giving palm readings at
(10:08):
a booth next to a smoothie bar. Friends said the
couple had chemistry at first, but clashed as the years
went on. While Serena preferred meditation retreats and quiet dinners
at home, Doug liked poker, knights, craft beer, and late
nights watching sports. By January of twenty twenty four, they
were living mostly separate lives under the same roof, sharing
(10:28):
little more than bills and two younger children. Detectives Lydia
Ramos and Ron Briscoe interviewed doug on January thirteen, one
day after Serena's body was discovered. He arrived at the
Pompino Beach Police Department wearing khaki shorts and boat shoes,
saying he had barely slept. He told investigators that he
had been in Boca ratin the night of January eleven,
(10:49):
meeting a client to discuss refinancing of property. He said
he left around ten thirty p m. Drove home to
Fort Lauderdale and fell asleep watching Netflix, but when detectives
checked his phone records, the story fell apart. Between eight
forty seven pm and eleven fifty six pm, Doub had
made and received multiple calls from his secretary, Candy Pillow
(11:10):
Lips Dambers, a thirty two year old woman known in
the office for her bold lipstick and tight dresses. Witnesses
later said the two had been having an affair for
nearly a year. Surveillance footage from a gas station on
US one even showed Doug's BMBO heading south towards Serena's
condo around ten forty pm, not north to book a
ratan as he had claimed at the office. Co workers
(11:33):
described Doug as equal parts sleazy and self pitying. One
colleague told police that Doug often complained about his wife,
saying Serena read his aura like a bleeping paperback novel.
Another said Doug once joked that divorce would cost more
than her funeral. When detectives confronted him with the evidence,
Doug didn't get angry. He got nervous. He rubbed his temples,
(11:54):
sighed loudly, and said, look, I might have lied about
where I was, but didn't kill her. She was the
mother of my kids. He explained the phone calls to
Candy as work related and claimed he had only stopped
near the Marina Vista complex to clear his head. Investigators
noted his defensive tone but lack of visible grief. While
he denied any involvement, police found motive all over his life.
(12:17):
Not only would Doug inherit Serena's business, assays, but he
was also the beneficiary of a five hundred thousand dollars
life insurance policy she had taken out three years earlier.
His finances were struggling, credit card debt, two overdue car payments,
and a business loan in default. Despite his denials, detectives
listed him as suspect number one. For the next several days,
(12:39):
Doug's name filled headlines across South Florida tabloids Psychic's husband
under spotlight. He continued to insist he was innocent, telling
a reporter outside his office, I'd loved her even if
she didn't believe in me. But behind the scenes, detectives
were not convinced. Rams noted in her report that Doug
appears more concerned with public perception than with his wife death.
(13:00):
As January twenty twenty four went on, she quietly began
looking closer, not just at his lies, but who else
in Serena's family might have had something even darker to hide.
The next person detectives focused on was Tyler Kinkid, Serena's
twenty four year old stepbrother. He was thin, pale, and restless,
with shaking hands and dark circles under his eyes. People
(13:24):
who knew Tyler said he had been in and out
of rehab more times than birthdays In the last few years.
Police records confirmed it fre stints and treatment centers, most
recently at a recovery home in Deerfield Beach, which he
left in late December twenty twenty three. By January twenty
twenty four, Tyler was unemployed and living in a one
bedroom apartment near Sample Road, paid for by Serena's stepfather,
(13:47):
Robert Hill. Family friend said Robert was keeping him afloat,
covering not just his rent, but also his treatment bills
and credit card debt. Robert can't say no to him,
One neighbor told police he always thinks Tyler's just one
check away from turning his life around. Tyler had been
close to Serena when they were younger, but things changed
as she grew more successful with her spiritual business, Celestial
(14:10):
Path Wellness. Friends described their relationship as strained and full
of resentment. Serena once told the client that her stepbrother
was a parasite wrapped in pity. She often refused to
lend him money, saying it only fed his addiction. Detectives
Lydia Ramos and Ron Brisco interviewed Tyler two days after
Serena's death. He showed up wearing a wrinkled hoodie, mismatched sneakers,
(14:31):
and smelled faintly of alcohol. Ramos later noted in her
report that his eyes were glassy, his speech was uneven,
and his hands smelled like vodka. Tyler said he'd stop
by Serena's condo around nine o'clock PM on the night
of January eleven. His reason, he told police, was to
borrow some crystals. He said Serena had promised to loan
him a few rose quartz stones for energy work. When
(14:54):
pressed for more details, his story shifted. At first, he
said he only knocked on the door and left when
no one answered. Later, he claimed Serena let him in
for a few minutes before asking him belief. Investigators found
several inconsistencies in his timeline. Security cameras in the condo's
parking lot caught his white Honda Civic pulling in at
nine eighteen PM and leaving just twelve minutes later. That
(15:17):
was less than an hour before Serena's estimated time of death.
Inside the condo, officers found no signs of forced entry
and no fingerprints belonging to Tyler. The only partial print
recovered from the broken salt lamp belonged to another family member. Still,
detectives found Tyler's behavior troubling. He couldn't give a clear
answer about where he went after leaving the condo, saying
(15:38):
only that he drove around for a while before going
on to watch YouTube. In his apartment, police noticed empty
Voca bottles in the trash and a small bag of
white powder on his nightstand. Toxicology results later confirmed alcohol
and bens of aze pines in his system during questioning,
Despite this, he denied being intoxicated that night, telling officers,
(15:59):
I've been sober since Christmas. I just have bad anxiety.
Detective Ramos described him as evasive, emotional, and unpredictable. Still,
without physical evidence connecting him to the murder, they couldn't
hold him. Tyler remained on their list of active persons
of interest, but no charges were filed. As the investigation
continued through January twenty twenty four, police kept him under
(16:22):
quiet surveillance. Neighbors reported seeing him pacing the parking lot
late at night, chain smoking and talking to himself. One
neighbor overheard him mutter she never believed in me. None
of them did. Though Tyler denied any role in Serena's death,
detectives couldn't ignore the tension between them, or the fact
that he was one of the last people to see
her alive. Three days after the murder, on January fifteenth,
(16:46):
twenty twenty four, detectives Lydia Ramos and Ron Brisco gathered
in the small media room of the Pompina Beach Police Department,
surrounded by half empty coffee cups and stacks of interview transcripts. Outside,
the weather was gray and windy, with light rain pattering
against the station's glass doors. Inside, the team was piecing
together the final hours of Serena Fontaine's life, minute by minute.
(17:09):
That morning, they received new security footage from a camera
on the opposite building at Marinafastcondo's. The camera didn't face
Serena's unit directly, but it caught reflections of light flickering
in her windows at around ten forty pm on January eleven,
just minutes before her estimated time of death. Detective Ramos
replayed the footage several times, noting that the flickering seemed
(17:30):
to follow a pattern right dim bright again, suggesting movement inside.
Then came something more chilling, audio from a neighbor's ring
doorbell recorded down the hall. The clip was muffled, but
clear enough to catch a woman's voice shouting, this bleep
is bleeping sick. He's your step son, for bleep's sake.
Detective's froze as they listened. The outburst lasted only seconds,
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followed by what sounded like a crash of glass, and
then silence. By comparing timestamps from Serena's phone data, parking, garage,
camp and building key card records, investigators built a rough
timeline of that night. Around ten thirty two pm, Serena's car,
a white twenty eighteen Lexus NX, pulled into the Marina
vistolat She had just returned from a private reading with
(18:15):
a client in Fort Lauderdale, according to her appointment calendar.
At ten thirty six pm, her condo door was unlocked
from the inside, meaning someone she knew was already there.
Police found no sign of forced entry, no broken locks,
and no alarms triggered. From the evidence, detectives believed Serena
entered quietly through the kitchen door, which opened directly into
(18:37):
her small living area. According to what they later reconstructed,
she stopped cold in the doorway after spotting something that
made her blood boil. On the living room couch sat
two people, her stepbrother Tyler Kinked and her stepfather, Robert Hill,
snuggled up and cuddled together. As one witness later put it,
they were half covered by a blanket with two champagne
(18:59):
glasses still so wedding on the coffee table. The site
investigators concluded likely sparked a violent confrontation. Serena, known for
her fiery temper, when betrayed, reportedly shouted the words caught
on the neighbor's recording. Moments later, the condo's lights flickered,
a sign of the struggle that followed. At ten forty
one pm, the nearby security camera captured a brief shadow
(19:20):
moving past Serena's window of then total darkness. Detectives now
believe Serena walked in on something she was never meant
to see, a discovery that changed the entire course of
the case. For the first time, the investigation was no
longer focused solely on her husband or her troubled step brother.
The evidence pointed to a disturbing family secret, one that
could explain both the rage and Serena's final words, and
(19:43):
the brutal way her life ended. By mid January twenty
twenty four, what began as a domestic homicide had turned
into something far stranger. As Detective Briscoe later told reporters,
once we saw that footage and heard that voice, we
knew this wasn't just a murder. This was the moment
everything about that family cracked open. By the third week
(20:05):
of January twenty twenty four, detectives turned their focus to
Robert Kinkdd, Serena's sixty nine year old father and stepfather
to Tyler Kinkdd. On paper, Robert appeared to be the
picture of retirement success, a man who had done well
in New York and done better in Florida. But investigators
soon learned that the truth behind that image was far
(20:25):
more complicated. Robert had once been a stockbroker on Ball Street,
the founder of a small financial firm called Kinked Investments,
which collapsed during the two thousand and eight financial crash.
Several of his former employees told reporters that after the
company folded, Robert just vanished for a while, eventually resurfacing
in Palm Beach County a few years later. By twenty ten,
(20:48):
he had married his much younger second wife, Janet, who
was also Tyler's mother. The couple moved into a gated
community near Pompino Beach, where Robert took up golf and
morning walks along the intracoastal. He maintained the polished diction
of a former Wall Street professional, but carried the sons
of a man who spent most of his days outdoors.
Neighbors described him as friendly, proper, and always perfectly pressed.
(21:12):
He drove the silver Mercedes, wore linen shirts even in January,
and carry himself with an air of quiet confidence. But
beneath that charm, detectives found a web of digital secrets.
After learning from Serena's phone records that she had confronted
someone in her condo that night, detectives obtained a search
warrant for Robert's electronic devices. His MacBook Air, seized from
(21:33):
his home office, appeared normal at first glance, mostly emails
about country club meetings, brokerage newsletters, and photos of golf trips,
but a digital forensics technician discovered a hidden, password protected
folder within the laptop storage. Inside were dozens of photos,
each labeled only with first names like even Matt and tea.
Several were shirtless selfies of young men. Investigators also found
(21:56):
an encrypted messaging app which contained chat logs with multiple
contacts save under vague usernames. The tone of the messages
was suggestive and personal. One contact sake only as t
K twenty four, matched Hyler Kinkid's known email handle. Though
much of the content was deleted, partial recovery showed messages
discussing trust, keeping, secrets, and late night champagne. When confronted
(22:21):
with the evidence, Robert remained calm but visibly tense. During questioning,
He sat with his arms crossed, speaking in careful, measured sentences.
These are disgusting lies, he said. I have never behaved
inappropriately with my steps and or anyone else. Someone has
clearly hacked my computer. Detective Ramos later wrote in her
notes that Robert appeared more angry than afraid. He insisted
(22:44):
that the photos were just old client headshots and claimed
the encrypted messages were part of a spiritual mentorship group. Still,
investigators found his denials hard to believe. The encrypted app
he used required a private invitation code and was commonly
known among launch enforcement as a platform for discreet hookups.
One of the usernames linked to his account matched another
(23:05):
investigation in Broward County from twenty twenty two. Robert's phone
records also placed him near Marina Vista on the night
of January eleven, less than a mile from Serena's condo,
at ten twenty pm. When asked why, he said he'd
gone for a late drive to clear his head. Neighbors
later told detectives they saw Robert's Mercedes Coup returning to
his driveway just before eleven o'clock PM, its headlights off.
(23:29):
To the investigators, the puzzle pieces were beginning to fit.
Serena's confrontation. The shouting caught on camera, and Robert's hidden
communications all suggested a motive that went beyond money or jealousy.
It pointed to a family secret Serena wasn't supposed to uncover,
and a father who had far more to hide than
he would ever admit. By January twenty, twenty twenty four,
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the winter's sun over Pompino Beach burned pale and soft
across the canals. When detectives decided to confront Robert Kinkid
one final time. For more than a week, he had
denied every accusation claiming hackers had planted messages on his
computer and that he had not been near Serena's condo
that night. But investigators now had everything they needed, the
(24:11):
partial fingerprint from the salt lamp, the security footage showing
lights flickering in Unit twelve B, and the timeline placing
Robert near the scene just minutes before Serena's estimated time
of death. Detectives Lydia Remos and Ron Briscoe arrived at
Robert's home the Marina Doon's community shortly after nine am,
becound him dressed neatly in khaki shorts and oppressed golf shirt,
(24:32):
sitting on his screen patio with a newspaper and coffee.
When Ramos presented the lab results and the forensic evidence
tying him to the crime, Robert first laughed softly and
shook his head. You're wasting your time, he said, I
didn't kill my daughter. But when detective Briscoe slid a
printed transcript of one of his encrypted messages across the
table an exchange with Tyler Kinkedd about what Serena might
(24:55):
tell Janet, Robert's hands began to tremble. His voice cracked. Then,
after a long pause, the retired stockbroker broke down completely
between sobs. He told the detectives everything. He said that
on the night of January eleven, Serena had returned home unexpectedly.
She came in through the kitchen and he and Tyler
(25:16):
were snubbled up on the couch, half covered by a blanket,
with champagne glasses still on the table. She froze, he said,
like she'd seen a ghost. Serena began yelling, calling him
sick and disgusting. She threatened to tell his wife Janet everything.
But that wasn't all. According to Robert, Serena also knew
about his offshore bank accounts, money hidden from the IRS
(25:38):
for over a decade. She had proof of it and
said she'd turn it over. I panicked. Robert said she
was going to ruin all of us. He told investigators
that Serena had lunged at him first, waving that bleeping
crystal thing like a weapon, but the physical evidence contradicted
his story. Her defensive wounds showed she had tried to flee,
not fight. Robert admitted that he grabbed the Himalayan salt
(26:02):
lamp from the side table and struck Serena once in
the temple, knocking her to the floor. When she tried
to crawl away, He used the jagged base of the
broken lamp to stabber in the neck. He said he
just wanted her to stop screaming. Afterward, Robert panicked. He
tried to make the scene look like a spiritual ritual
gone wrong, scattering candles and crystals around her body. Tyler,
(26:24):
high and terrified, helped him wipe down surfaces, but accidentally
left partial prints on the weapon. When a confession ended,
Robert went quiet. He did not resist when officers placed
him in handcuffs. Neighbors stepped out of their driveways to
watch as the once respected retiree, always seen walking his
dog and waving politely, was led to a waiting patrol car.
(26:46):
Back at the Broward County Courthouse, Serena's family gathered outside
the steps as news cameras rolled. Her oldest daughter told
reporters through tears, she died for telling the truth. That's
who my mom was. She couldn't stay silent for investigators.
It was the end of a case that had shocked
the coastal community, a story of greed, shame, and secrets
(27:06):
that finally came to light under the bright Florida sun.
The trial of Robert Kinkid began in September twenty twenty
five at the Broward County Courthouse in Fort Lauderdale. The
weather was humid and gray that week, with summer storms
sweeping in off the ocean outside the courthouse. Newsvands lined
the curb and camera crews gathered early each morning to
(27:27):
capture footage of the man once known as the gentleman
investor of Palm Beach. Inside. Every seat in the gallery
was filled journalists, neighbors, and members of Serena's family, of
all waiting for justice nearly two years after her death.
The prosecutor, Angela roue Is thirty eight, was a sharp,
methodical attorney known for her focus in quiet persistence. She
(27:47):
entered the courtroom and pressed navy suits her thick binder
of notes, color coded and marked with sticky tabs. Ru
has told the jury that Robert Kinkedd had murdered his
daughter to hide a dark family secret, his sexual really
relationship with his own steps in, and his hidden offshore accounts.
He didn't act in fear, she said, he acted in
panic because Serena found out the truth. The defense attorney,
(28:10):
Martin Leclair, sixty, was a well spoken lawyer from Miami,
with silver hair and an old fashioned style. Calm and steady.
He told jurors that the killing was not murder but
self defense. According to Leclair, Serena was psychotic and prone
to fits of rage, and Robert had believed he was
about to be attacked. He was terrified of his own daughter,
(28:31):
Leclaire said, pacing slowly before the jury box. She was
not herself that night. This was a tragic accident, not
an execution. Robert himself took the stand on the fifth
day of the trial, wearing a light gray suit and
wire framed glasses. He looked pale and tired. His voice
shook as he told the court that Serena had been
violent and unpredictable in her final months. She came at me,
(28:54):
he said, and I thought she was going to kill me.
I just reacted. But the prosecutor pushed back hard. Ruse
replayed sections of Robert's police confession and presented forensic evidence
showing that Serena's injuries were defensive, not aggressive. She was
trying to get away, Ruis said, firmly, She was running
from you. The court room grew tense as crime seen
(29:15):
photos were displayed. Serena's oldest daughter covered her face and
wept quietly. Her younger son held his grandmother's hand. After
eight hours of deliberation, the jury returned with their verdict
not guilty of murder, excepting Robert's claim of self defense.
The courtroom fell silent. Serena's family sat frozens, several of
them shaking their heads in disbelief. Outside the court house,
(29:38):
reactions were divided. Some said justice had been served, that
the killing had been an awful family tragedy. Others called
it a miscarriage of justice, pointing to rumors that Robert's
wealth and connections had influenced the jury. Unverified reports circulated
online claiming that jurors had received financial favors from friends
of the Kinked family, though nothing was ever proven. Tyler
(30:00):
Kinkedd granted immunity for helping police, was not charged. He
entered another rehab program in late September, this time in
Delray Beach. For Serena's children, the verdict felt hollow. He
destroyed her and got away with it, her oldest daughter
told reporters through tears, money doesn't buy innocence, but it
sure buys freedom. The trial closed without applause or closure,
(30:23):
leaving behind a family still fractured and a community still
whispering about what really happened in Unit twelve B that night.
By September twenty twenty five, the Marina Vista condo where
Serena Fontaine once lived had fallen silent. The balcony plants
were brown and brittle, and the pastal walls were faded
from months of Florida sun. Neighbors whispered that the place
(30:44):
carried an air of sadness, a reminder of the shocking
events that had unfolded two years prior Serena's meditation. Rug
and moonlamps had long been removed, leaving only echoes of
her presence. Detective Lydia Ramos, whose careful work had helped
piece the case together, was promoted to captain that September.
In an interview with the local newspaper, she reflected on
(31:06):
the case's personal toll. It taught me that truth can
rot behind family walls, she said. She remained active in
Pompano Beach, mentoring younger officers and speaking publicly about domestic
crimes and family violence, often referencing the Fonteine case as
a cautionary example. Douglas Dougfontaine's Serena's ex husband remarried within
(31:26):
the year, he relocated to Austin, Texas, taking a quieter
life away from Florida. Tabloids, friends and colleagues described him
as more subdued, though the shadow of his failed marriage
and the scandal that surrounded Serena's death lingered in conversations
at his new office. Tyler Kinkedd, Serena's troubled step brother,
vanished from the public eye after leaving rehab in mid
(31:47):
twenty twenty four. Authorities reported no further arrests or incidents
connected to him. Local friends speculate he moved the way
to start fresh, though he has not been seen in
the Marina Vista area since. As for Robert Kinked, the
tired stockbroker who had claimed self defense, he left the
United States shortly after the trial. He reportedly relocated to
(32:07):
Costa Rica, living in a quiet coastal town with little
public contact. Though legally free, his reputation remained tarnished. Rumors
persisted that he had used wealth and influence to sway
the jury and neighbors in Pompina Beach often recalled him
with suspicion. Even in exile, his name still surfaced in
gossip columns and online forums, a symbol of a family
(32:28):
tragedy that never truly faded from the community's memory. Serena's
four children now live with their grandmother in Orlando. Though
they are protected from the tabloids, the loss of their
mother is a daily presence in their new home. A
small Himalayan salt lamp sits on a shelf, unlit but
a quiet tribute to Serena's memory. Friends and former clients
report that the children have begun to speak about relaunching
(32:50):
their mother's podcast, hoping to tell her story in her
own voice, sharing the lessons and experiences she once sought
to give the world. Though time has passed, the Fontaine's
tragedy continues to ripple through those left behind. The condo
may be empty and the streets quiet, but the story
of Serena Fontaine, her secrets, and the family that could
not protect or remains vivid, a reminder that some truths
(33:14):
cannot be buried, even behind closed doors.
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