The shocking revelation from Addi Smith’s personal diary has cast a new, heartbreaking light on the tragic murder-suicide that claimed her life and that of her mother, Tawnia McGeehan, in a Las Vegas hotel room. The 11-year-old cheerleader, whose vibrant energy once lit up competitions across Utah, wrote in her journal: “That’s her dream, not mine.” Those five words, discovered among her belongings after the February 15, 2026, incident at the Rio Hotel & Casino, suggest the young girl felt pressured into the sport she excelled at, rather than pursuing it out of genuine passion.

Addi was a standout athlete with Utah Xtreme Cheer, known for her precision, enthusiasm, and ability to rally teammates during tough practices. Coaches described her as the ultimate “hype man”—always stepping up to boost morale, leading by example, and embodying the gym’s values of positivity and teamwork. When she took the mat, she drew every eye: her flips, stunts, and bright smile made her performances magnetic. Yet behind the applause and trophies lay a quieter struggle, one Addi confided in her private writings.

The entry in question, penned in the months leading up to the trip, expressed a sense of obligation rather than joy. Addi detailed long training hours, strict schedules, and the constant expectation to perform at a high level—demands she associated more with her mother’s aspirations than her own. “That’s her dream, not mine” captured a child’s quiet realization that cheerleading, for all its glitter and excitement, had become a source of pressure rather than pure fulfillment. Friends and former teammates have since shared that Addi sometimes appeared tired or withdrawn after extended sessions, though she rarely complained openly, often masking her feelings with her trademark positivity.

A close friend of Addi, speaking anonymously to local media in the days following the tragedy, described Tawnia McGeehan as “extremely controlling.” The friend recalled how McGeehan monitored every aspect of Addi’s life in the sport: overseeing practice attendance, critiquing routines, traveling to every competition, and ensuring no detail was overlooked. “She was always there, watching everything,” the friend said. “Addi loved her mom and wanted to make her proud, but it felt like cheer was more for her mom than for Addi sometimes.” The friend noted that Addi confided in a few trusted peers about feeling trapped—wanting to explore other interests like art or simply having more free time—but fearing it would disappoint her mother.

This dynamic adds tragic context to the events in Las Vegas. The mother and daughter had traveled for a major cheer event, but when they failed to appear Sunday morning, concern spread quickly among the team. A welfare check led to the grim discovery: both had been shot, with McGeehan believed to have killed her daughter late Saturday night before taking her own life. A suicide note was found at the scene, though its full contents remain private; police have indicated the motive ties to McGeehan’s severe, untreated mental health struggles, including intense depression and despair.

Family members have spoken of McGeehan’s devotion to Addi and her cheer pursuits, viewing them as shared passions. Yet the diary entry challenges that narrative, suggesting a one-sided investment that may have contributed to underlying tension. The custody battle that preceded the tragedy—nearly a decade of disputes with ex-husband Brad Smith, resolved in 2024 with joint custody—further illustrates the high-stakes environment Addi navigated. Court documents highlighted periods of conflict, including allegations of domestic issues and parental alienation concerns, which reportedly intensified McGeehan’s emotional strain.

The cheer community has responded with profound grief and reflection. Utah Xtreme Cheer mourned Addi as a beloved family member whose light would never fade. Gyms across the state paused practices for tributes: blue-and-pink ribbons (her favorite colors), handwritten notes, photos of her mid-stunt, and moments of silence. Former coaches from Utah Fusion All-Stars, where she once trained, remembered her as hardworking and joyful, someone who made every space better. National cheer pages shared memories, calling for greater mental health awareness in youth sports—where parental pressure, performance demands, and travel can amplify hidden struggles.

Experts in child psychology have noted that when children feel their activities are driven by parental expectations rather than intrinsic motivation, it can lead to resentment, burnout, or emotional withdrawal—even if they excel outwardly. In competitive environments like all-star cheer, the line between support and control can blur, especially when a parent’s identity becomes intertwined with the child’s success.

Addi’s story, emerging through her own words and those who knew her best, serves as a poignant reminder of the importance of listening to children. Her diary entry—”That’s her dream, not mine”—echoes quietly amid the outpouring of love and sorrow. It highlights how even the brightest stars on stage can carry unseen burdens, and how vital it is to ensure young athletes pursue paths that truly fulfill them.

As the community heals, tributes continue: drawings, videos of her routines, and messages celebrating her kindness and spirit. Addi Smith may have felt the weight of expectations, but her legacy endures as one of positivity, talent, and the profound impact one child can have on those around her. The tragedy underscores the need for open dialogue, mental health support, and balance in pursuits that should bring joy, not obligation.