🚨 FAMILY VACATION FROM HELL: 18-Year-Old’s Stepbrother Caught on 3 A.M. FaceTime “Climbing On Top” of Her – Now He’s the FBI’s #1 Suspect in Her Cruise Ship Strangulation 😱

A late-night FaceTime call. Her ex-boyfriend watching in horror. The stepbrother – obsessed, relentless – sneaking into her room, trying to climb on top while she slept.

Months later, on a “blended family” cruise: She’s found choked to death, body crammed under the bed in the cabin they SHARED. Clean tox screen. No outsiders on camera. Just him, entering and exiting alone.

The ignored pleas from Anna to keep him away. The custody docs exploding with threats and infatuation. The stepmom’s disguise at the funeral?

This web of obsession and cover-up is unraveling – but why did the adults let her board that ship with him? Click for the FaceTime footage details, the “I don’t remember” confession, and the bombshell that’s got the FBI raiding homes.

The FBI’s investigation into the strangulation death of 18-year-old Anna Kepner aboard the Carnival Horizon cruise ship has veered into profoundly uncomfortable territory, unearthing a tangled history of alleged familial obsession and overlooked red flags that now place her 16-year-old stepbrother squarely in the crosshairs. Court documents, witness statements, and family disclosures obtained by Fox News reveal a pattern of inappropriate behavior by the teen – including a witnessed attempt to climb onto Anna while she slept during a late-night FaceTime call – that had her pleading with relatives to keep distance between them long before the ill-fated Caribbean voyage.

What was intended as a celebratory multi-generational trip on November 3, 2025, has instead exposed fractures in the Kepner-Hudson blended family, with allegations of stalking, threats, and a possible alcohol-fueled altercation at sea fueling speculation about the circumstances of Anna’s death. The teen’s body, discovered crammed under a bunk bed in Cabin 8123 on November 7, showed neck bruises consistent with a “bar hold choke,” and preliminary findings rule out drugs or assault. As federal agents sift through security footage, cell records, and custody filings, the stepbrother – identified in legal papers only as “T.H.” – emerges as the lone figure seen entering and exiting the shared stateroom that fateful night.

Anna Marie Kepner embodied the all-American dream deferred. A straight-A senior and varsity cheerleader at Temple Christian Academy in this quiet Space Coast community, the Titusville native was weeks from submitting her enlistment application to the U.S. Navy, where she hoped to train as a K-9 handler. “She was our mighty girl – tough, joyful, always lifting everyone up,” her paternal grandmother, Barbara Kepner, told ABC News in a tearful sit-down last week, her voice steady despite the grief etched on her face. Photos from the cruise show Anna beaming in a sundress, posing against turquoise Bahamian backdrops, her long auburn hair catching the wind. “That smile… it lit up the ship,” Barbara added. “We had no idea the darkness waiting in her own cabin.”

The six-day itinerary aboard the 133,500-ton Carnival Horizon – a floating resort with waterslides, casinos, and 4,000-plus passengers – promised relaxation after a year of family stresses, including a contentious divorce and custody tug-of-war. Christopher Kepner, Anna’s 48-year-old father and a local contractor, had remarried Shauntel Hudson, 42, blending their households into a patchwork of six children. To cut costs on the $5,000-plus excursion, the three eldest teens – Anna, her 14-year-old biological brother, and the 16-year-old stepbrother from Hudson’s prior marriage – drew the short straw, bunking in a windowless interior suite on Deck 8. The adults and younger siblings claimed adjacent rooms, figuring proximity would suffice for supervision.

Hindsight, however, paints a far grimmer picture. Brevard County court records from Hudson’s ongoing custody battle with ex-husband Thomas Hudson, filed as early as March 2025, brim with warnings about the stepbrother’s fixation on Anna. Thomas Hudson’s attorney, Scott Smith, alleged in an emergency motion that the boy exhibited “obsessive behavior” toward his 18-year-old stepsister, including repeated uninvited visits to her bedroom and possessive outbursts when she dated others. One filing cites Anna confiding to a school counselor: “He watches me all the time. It makes my skin crawl. I don’t feel safe at home.” Despite these red flags, the family proceeded with the cruise, with Anna reportedly voicing discomfort but ultimately acquiescing to the group plan.

The obsession’s most visceral allegation surfaced last week via an unlikely witness: Anna’s ex-boyfriend, 15-year-old Josh, whose father, Steven Westin, spoke out to Inside Edition and TMZ. In a sworn statement echoed across court docs, Josh described a chilling FaceTime call from July 2025, around 3 a.m. “We were talking before bed, and she dozed off with the phone propped up,” Westin recounted his son saying. “Then her stepbrother snuck in – no knock, nothing. He climbed right on top of her, like he was trying to… you know. She woke up screaming and shoved him off.” Anna ended the call in tears, later texting Josh: “He’s crazy obsessed. He thinks we’re meant to be together, even though we’re family now.” Westin, a Titusville mechanic, emphasized his son had no stake in the drama: “Josh loved Anna. This isn’t revenge – it’s the truth they ignored.”

These revelations hit like aftershocks following the autopsy bombshell. Miami-Dade Medical Examiner Dr. Emma Lewis’s preliminary report, leaked to CBS News sources, details two linear bruises on Anna’s neck – hallmarks of a forearm bar hold that compresses the carotid arteries, inducing unconsciousness in 10 seconds and death in under four minutes if held. No defensive scratches, no foreign DNA on initial swabs, and toxicology negative for substances beyond trace caffeine. Time of death: 11:17 a.m. on November 7, hours after the last confirmed sighting of Anna alive at 10 p.m. the prior evening, during a lively fajita night at the Lido Deck buffet.

Ship logs and FBI-released timestamps paint a claustrophobic timeline. Surveillance from Deck 8 corridors captures the trio returning to Cabin 8123 at 10:22 p.m. on November 6, post-dinner giggles audible on audio feeds. No entries or exits until 2:14 a.m., when the stepbrother’s keycard swipes him out alone – returning at 4:37 a.m. reeking of rum, per crew statements. Anna’s phone last pinged at 11:03 p.m., a Snapchat to a cheer squad friend: “Cabin fever already lol. Night!” The 14-year-old brother, asleep in the upper bunk, claims he heard “wrestling sounds” around midnight but dismissed them as horseplay. “They’d roughhouse sometimes,” he told investigators, though friends dispute Anna ever engaged willingly.

By morning, the room was a tomb. Honduran-born steward Carlos Ramirez entered at 11:15 a.m. for turndown service, his cart rattling against the steel door. “I thought it was empty – kids out exploring,” Ramirez recounted to The Guardian, his accent thick with unease. Lifting the rumpled lower duvet revealed Anna’s contorted form: 5-foot-6 inches folded fetal-style, shrouded in a cruise-branded fleece blanket, topped by three Day-Glo orange life vests yanked from the closet. Bruising bloomed purple on her throat; her eyes stared blankly at the undercarriage slats. Ramirez bolted, triggering the code-black alert that paged Jeffrey Kepner – Anna’s grandfather and the family’s cruise bingo enthusiast – from the Phantom Lounge.

“I pushed through the crowd, yelling her name,” Jeffrey told USA Today, fists clenched in recount. “The crew held me back, but I saw enough – my grandbaby, stuffed away like trash.” Onboard medics confirmed rigor mortis onset, estimating death between 1 a.m. and 3 a.m. The Horizon, then 200 miles off Cuba’s coast, diverted under emergency protocols, docking in Miami by 8 p.m. November 8 amid a swarm of FBI tactical vans. Agents in windbreakers cordoned the gangway, interviewing 50 passengers and confiscating the family’s devices. Carnival’s crisis team, per internal memos obtained by NBC, urged discretion: “Minimize disruption to operations.”

Back on dry land, the probe intensified. The stepbrother, hospitalized briefly post-docking for “dehydration and elevated vitals” – code, insiders whisper, for alcohol detox – was released to a relative’s custody under a Brevard County protective order. In a bombshell interview with ABC, Barbara Kepner relayed his post-discovery mea culpa: “He looked me in the eye and said, ‘Grandma, I don’t remember what happened.’ Like it was a dream he blacked out on.” Toxicology on him? Positive for rum and Coke, sourced from the ship’s duty-free bar, where 21+ rules evaporate in international waters. Hudson’s court response, filed November 19, admits the FBI views him as a “person of interest” but denies intent: “T.H. is a troubled but loving boy, not a monster.”

The custody war, paused indefinitely by Circuit Judge Elena Vasquez, lays bare deeper dysfunction. Thomas Hudson’s filings accuse Shauntel of lax parenting, citing the stepbrother’s access to knives (one allegedly stashed under his mattress) and unchecked midnight wanderings. Shauntel’s rebuttal blasts Thomas for alienation tactics, claiming the obsession stemmed from teenage hormones, not malice. “Anna was like a sister to him – any affection was innocent,” her attorney argued in a November 22 hearing. Yet texts subpoenaed from Anna’s iPhone paint otherwise: A chain from August 2025 reads, “Dad, plz make him stop following me to practice. It’s weird.” Christopher replied: “He’s family now. Give it time.”

Public outrage simmers as details drip. A GoFundMe for Anna’s memorial – a Navy-themed service at Titusville’s Grove Church on November 20, where 500 mourners in bright colors honored her “vibrant soul” – has surged past $120,000. Donors skew scathing: “Why room her with a stalker?” one anonymous post fumes. Carnival, facing a PR tempest, suspended the cabin’s bookings and pledged $50,000 to the fund, but critics invoke the 2010 Cruise Vessel Security Act, demanding stricter juvenile oversight. “Ships are playgrounds for predators when families fracture,” says maritime attorney Devon Cann, who reps assault victims. “This isn’t isolated – it’s systemic.”

FBI Special Agent in Charge Maria Torres, addressing reporters outside the Miami field office on November 24, urged patience: “We’re leaving no log unturned, no pixel unexamined. Justice for Anna is priority one.” Forensic teams, meanwhile, chase leads: Does the blanket’s fiber match the stepbrother’s hoodie? What ghosts lurk in his deleted Snapchat history? And crucially, why did no one heed Anna’s quiet cries for space?

As Titusville mourns – purple ribbons (her cheer color) fluttering from porches – the Kepners cling to fragments. Jeffrey pores over her last voicemail: “Love you, Pops. Sea ya soon.” For the stepbrother, now grounded in seclusion, the voyage’s end is just beginning. If obsession turned lethal, the courts will decide. But for Anna’s Navy-bound spirit, the anchor drops eternal in Caribbean depths.

The probe sails on, secrets surfacing like wreckage.