People ask me about Ashlee Harmon Corrigan Boyson more than almost anyone I’ve ever written about.
I first told her story more than a decade ago. A 28-year-old widow, five kids, a newborn, a murder trial, and a choice to forgive that most of us couldn’t fathom.
Then I wrote about her again. And again. We’ve stayed close.
So when the messages come — How is she? What’s she up to? Is she okay? — I always smile. Because the answer is always the same.
She’s more than okay. She’s remarkable.
Here’s your update.
On March 11, 2011, Ashlee stood in shock in her living room as detectives announced she was suddenly a 28-year-old widow. Her husband, Emmett Corrigan, had been shot in a Walgreens parking lot near their home in Meridian, Idaho. A targeted killing by Robert Hall, the furious husband of the woman Emmett had been seeing.
In one brutal night, Ashlee became a widow, learned of the affair, and held a six-week-old baby. All at once.
Later that night, she knelt in her closet in the dark and prayed. The impressions came slowly, like a calming story unfolding line by line.
Find forgiveness and peace.
It wasn’t easy. But that’s exactly what she did. Through prayer, writing, speaking, and sheer spiritual grit, she forgave. Even during an excruciating trial. Even years later when she ran into the other woman in a restaurant, greeted with laughter and zero remorse, she forgave.
When I recently caught up with Ashlee, I asked what she understands now that she didn’t before.
“Other people are not in charge of my pain,” she said. “Forgiveness is a process. We can’t take a magic pill and think, ‘OK, I finally forgave!’ It’s a continual journey and we cannot do it alone.”
She also reminded me that forgiveness doesn’t require rebuilding old relationships. “It’s a shift from wanting peace from imperfect people to a belief and trust that peace will come from my One perfect brother, Christ, who will always see my worth.”
That’s who Ashlee is. That’s always been who Ashlee is.
But when I asked what she’s most proud of today, she didn’t talk about herself.
She talked about her kids.
Her daughter Bailey dreamed of a mission for her church. She handled every bit of the paperwork herself, lined up every appointment, and got called to Mexico.
Ten months in, after weeks of hard experiences, including being kidnapped in an Uber, she had a grand mal seizure so severe her companion thought she’d died.
After ten days in a hospital bed, the decision was made. Come home.
Watching her let go of that dream, Ashlee said quietly, was one of the hardest things.
But Bailey let go. Because she knew she had to. And Ashlee believes her daughter served a full mission, not despite coming home early, but because she was willing to go at all.
And then there’s Teage.
One week before basketball tryouts, a lawnmower accident took the tips of all his fingers and a chunk of his middle finger. Doctors said six to nine months before he’d really recover.
Teage said six weeks.
Six weeks on the nose, he was on the court. He played through phantom pain. He played through moments when the ball hit wrong and the whole gym probably felt it. Then he earned a scholarship to play basketball in Oregon.
“I am more proud of watching my kids stand back up,” Ashlee told me, “than of anything I’ve been through myself.”
She still writes, including a new children’s book series. She still speaks.
She still shines light in dark places for people who don’t yet know how to stand back up.
But her greatest joy, she says without hesitation, is watching her kids who had every reason to quit, and didn’t.
It turns out the most remarkable thing about Ashlee Harmon Corrigan
Boyson isn’t just that she survived.
It’s what she built on the other side.
