Anna Kepner’s Boyfriend Warned: “He’s Obsessed With Her.” Nobody Listened. Six Months Later, She Never Came Home From the Carnival Cruise

The screams echoed through the narrow hallway of Deck 7 on the Carnival Horizon that night. A violent crash. Furniture slamming against walls. A voice—deep, furious—shouting, “Shut the hell up!”

Just outside Cabin 7432, a fourteen-year-old boy stood frozen, his key card shaking in his hand. He was supposed to sleep in that cabin with his older siblings. Instead, he listened in terror as chaos erupted behind the locked door.

Inside, eighteen-year-old Anna Kepner—a bright, fearless cheerleader with dreams of joining the Navy—was living the final hours of her life.

By 11:17 a.m. the next morning, November 7, 2025, a housekeeper would discover Anna’s body under the bed, wrapped tightly in a blanket and covered with life vests. She had been suffocated—killed by a crushing arm across her neck, the bruises still visible.

There were no drugs. No alcohol. No sexual assault.
Just a young woman who went to bed early because she wasn’t feeling well—and never woke up.

But Anna’s story didn’t begin on that cruise.
It began six months earlier, with a warning that nobody wanted to believe.

A Warning Ignored

Anna’s boyfriend, Joshua, wasn’t the jealous type. But he knew what he had seen, and what he saw terrified him.

During a late-night FaceTime call, Anna was lying in bed when her sixteen-year-old stepbrother walked into the room. He didn’t speak. He didn’t knock. He simply climbed onto the bed—climbed onto her—while she lay there, shocked and frozen.

Joshua saw everything.

“He tried to get on top of her,” Joshua later told his father, who repeated the account to Inside Edition.
His father did not mince words:
“He was infatuated. Obsessed. He wanted to date her.”

Anna already knew. She had felt his fixation for months. She was scared—terrified, even—because the sixteen-year-old always carried a large knife.

Joshua told her parents. He explained exactly what he saw.
He begged them to take it seriously.

But they didn’t.

Maybe they thought he was overreacting.
Maybe they wanted their new blended family to work.
Maybe they simply could not imagine that kind of darkness living under their roof.

Anna stopped staying home. She spent nights with friends to avoid him. She tried to move forward—finishing her senior year at Temple Christian School, planning her future in the Navy, dreaming of becoming a K-9 police officer.

But the warning had already been given.

Six months later, Joshua’s fear would become reality.

Who Anna Really Was

To understand the gravity of this tragedy, you have to understand who Anna Kepner was.

Her family called her “Anna Banana”—the kind of affectionate nickname that fits only the warmest souls. She was the girl who sent random “I love you” messages, who made people laugh without trying, who chose joy even when she didn’t feel it.

At Temple Christian School in Titusville, Florida, she cheered with so much energy that people remembered her long after she left a room. She loved boat days, beach days, sunshine, and Florida waters—so much so that she got her boater’s license before she even learned how to drive.

She was PADI-certified for scuba diving, loved Shawn Mendes, adored dolphins and manatees, spent hours doing arts and crafts with her grandmother, and ate fries with ranch like it was a personal tradition. Her obituary even joked she was probably in heaven doing exactly that.

In May 2025, just six months before she died, Anna was baptized. Her faith grounded her. She had purpose, direction, and discipline. She was determined to serve her country.

This was the girl whose life ended in a cabin on Deck 7.

A Blended Family Built Too Fast

Anna’s father, Christopher Kepner, had been married twice before. His third marriage, to Shauntel Hudson, brought instant complexity.

Shauntel was locked in a bitter custody fight with her ex-husband, Thomas Hudson, involving their three children—ages 16, 14, and 9. Allegations flew in both directions: abuse, parental alienation, unsafe environments.

When Christopher married Shauntel in 2024, Anna suddenly gained two stepbrothers and a stepsister she hardly knew. They moved in together in Titusville, trying to form a family overnight.

But blended families don’t work on fast-forward.
They need boundaries.
Time.
Structure.

Instead, barely a year into the marriage, the newly formed family boarded a six-day Caribbean cruise together.

A trip meant to build closeness would become the setting of a catastrophe.

The Obsession Nobody Stopped

The sixteen-year-old stepbrother’s behavior toward Anna had escalated for months.

He was infatuated, according to witnesses.
He wanted to date her.
He carried a large knife constantly.
He invaded her personal space.
He made her feel unsafe in her own home.

Anna often avoided being home altogether.

Joshua’s warning should have been the turning point.

Instead, it was ignored.

The Cruise

On November 2, 2025, the family boarded the Carnival Horizon in Miami. The ship left port carrying nearly 4,000 passengers.

Anna was excited. But anxious too. Six days in a small cabin meant no escape.

Onboard, the sixteen-year-old was allowed to drink alcohol legally due to international waters—something court documents later confirmed.

Anna shared a cabin with the sixteen-year-old and fourteen-year-old boys.

Nothing about the sleeping arrangement was safe.

By November 6, Anna wasn’t feeling well. She texted friends she was going to bed early.

She would never wake up.

The Night of Violence

The fourteen-year-old stepbrother approached the cabin door that night. But instead of entering, he froze.

From inside, he heard:

Screaming
Furniture crashing
Chairs slamming into walls
A voice shouting “Shut the hell up!”

He never went inside.

He never saw his sister alive again.

The Discovery

At breakfast the next morning, Anna didn’t show up.

The family searched the ship, but she was nowhere. Finally, a housekeeper entered the cabin.

She noticed something under the bed.

Life vests. A blanket. Something wrapped inside.

It was Anna.

The medical examiner ruled her death a homicide:
asphyxiation via arm compression across the neck.
Two deep bruises marked where her airway was crushed.

She had been sober.
Unharmed otherwise.
Placed under the bed deliberately.

This was not an accident.

The Ship Turns Around

The Carnival Horizon immediately reversed course. Over 4,000 passengers were forced to disembark early in Miami as the ship became a federal crime scene.

The FBI boarded.
Thousands of passengers were interviewed.
All surveillance footage was seized.
Room key records.
Phone logs.
Everything.

And soon, the truth surfaced.

The Suspect Everyone Already Knew

Court documents from Shauntel’s custody case with her ex-husband revealed what the FBI would not say publicly:

Their sixteen-year-old son—the stepbrother obsessed with Anna—was the suspect.

Shauntel’s attorney confirmed in writing that the FBI had informed her they might file criminal charges against her child, identified only as T.H. (born 2009).

Thomas Hudson filed his own motion, stating flatly:

“T.H. is a suspect in the death of the stepchild during the cruise.”

The sixteen-year-old was hospitalized immediately after the ship returned to Miami.
No one will explain why.

Not his parents.
Not the attorneys.
Not the court.

After being discharged, he was not allowed to live with either parent.
A third-party relative took custody “to ensure the safety” of the youngest child—a chilling choice of words.

He now lives in hiding.
Represented by a criminal defense lawyer.
Silent.

The FBI Has the Evidence

Agents recovered:

Thousands of hours of security footage
Keycard logs showing every cabin entry and exit
Phone records
Testimony from every passenger near Cabin 7432
Forensic evidence from the cabin
The autopsy findings

Investigators say the evidence is strong.

But charging a sixteen-year-old with homicide is complicated.
And federal prosecutors are silent for a reason.

A Family Waiting for Justice

Two weeks after Anna’s death, her autopsy confirmed what everyone feared: she was killed deliberately. No accident. No medical emergency. No intoxication.

Someone put an arm across her throat and held it there until her breath stopped.
Then they hid her body.

And the only person who shared that cabin with her—
the only one with a documented obsession—
the only one heard screaming that night—
the only one the FBI considers a suspect—
is now a silent minor shielded by the system.

Anna’s family still waits.
For answers.
For charges.
For justice.

For the truth about what happened on Deck 7 during those final, horrific minutes of her life.