The birthday cake had barely been cleared away when the celebration on Smithfield Drive turned into a homicide scene. Inside the suburban Orlando home, a 6-year-old boy who had just blown out candles was about to become an orphan. His father, 48-year-old Richard Raczkowski, had already made a decision that would end his mother’s life.
At 10:25 p.m. on April 15, 2023, the birthday party for the couple’s son had wound down. The house in Hunters Creek, a well-manicured neighborhood, had gone quiet. But inside, the situation was unraveling with terrifying speed. Raczkowski picked up his phone and typed a message to his father, Daniel, who lived over 30 minutes away. The message was stark: “I just shot Allison.”
Daniel Raczkowski, staring at his screen, could not reconcile the festivities with the brutality of the message. He replied, “This is a bad joke.” But Richard was not in a playful mood. “She was attacking me. I had to put her down,” he insisted. Confused and uncertain, his father replied, “Call 911 now.” Richard would not. Instead, 30 minutes later, he sent his father and brother a photo of the victim’s body.
According to the arrest report, Daniel drove to the scene and encountered his son standing outside a bedroom door. Richard calmly asked, “You want to see her?” He led his father into the master bedroom, where they observed 46-year-old Allison Marie Sheehan lying face down in a pool of blood. That is when 911 was finally called, more than two hours after the initial text.
Responding units from the Orange County Sheriff’s Office pulled up to the residence. They did not simply walk up to the front door. They immediately canvassed the area to lock down the perimeter. Dispatch had just flagged a critical detail: a child was present in the bedroom of the house. With that information, the tension skyrocketed. Officers had no way of knowing if they were facing a barricaded suspect, a potential ambush, or a peaceful surrender.
From the safety of a patrol cruiser parked at the curb, a voice boomed over the PA system, cutting through the darkness. “Residents of Smithfield Drive, this is the Orange County Sheriff’s Office. One at a time, come out through the front door with your hands up.” The wait was over. Officers established tactical positions behind cover, and then the standoff began to unfold.
Upon entry, officers surveyed the scene. In the master bedroom, the grim reality came into focus. There, they found Allison Sheehan suffering from multiple gunshot wounds. She was Richard’s girlfriend of eight years and the mother of their 6-year-old son. First responders transported her to Osceola Regional Hospital in a desperate bid to save her life. But the trauma was catastrophic, and after some time, the attending physician called off all life-saving efforts.
The master bedroom told investigators a chaotic story. Resting on a dresser inside the room was an unloaded .40 caliber firearm. Two spent shell casings were observed on the floor, and bizarrely, a shell casing was found inside a fish tank along the wall. Amidst all that chaos, deputies found the 6-year-old physically unharmed. As for Richard, he was taken into custody without further incident.
But if you were looking for a man in shock, Richard was not it. Considering what he had just done, his behavior could best be described as nonchalant, erratic, and self-absorbed. “I’m not running away. I want her alive,” he told deputies. He complained of dehydration and was transported to Hunters Creek emergency room to get medically cleared before booking.
Detectives met him right there at the hospital. They needed to lock him into a specific version of events before he had time to sanitize his story. They wanted him to commit to the mechanics of his self-defense claim immediately so they could test his words against the forensic evidence. The audio of the interview speaks for itself, capturing the gears turning as he tries to manufacture a justification in real time.
“My intention was just to shoot her in the ass,” Raczkowski told detectives. “That was my intention, just to put her down.” He claimed she had stomped on his foot, pushed him, and was coming at him like a “bat out of hell.” He described himself as 6-foot-1 and 190 pounds, while she was 5-foot-2 and 131 pounds. The disparity in size did not seem to matter in his narrative.
“She was going to claw my eyes out,” he insisted. “I was actually worried that she was going to attack me.” He described retrieving his firearm from a biometric safe, claiming he used a fingerprint to open it during the struggle. But the logistics of scanning a fingerprint during a fight were shaky at best. The forensics simply did not back up his story of a face-to-face defensive shooting.
It was the medical examiner who delivered the final blow. While Raczkowski claimed Allison was charging him, coming at him to claw his eyes out, the autopsy revealed the truth. She had been shot in the back four times. The evidence pointed to an execution. Detectives saw right through it. They concluded that the physical evidence completely contradicted Richard’s version of events. There was no stand your ground here.
Following his medical discharge from the hospital, Raczkowski was transported to the Orange County Jail and booked on one count of first-degree murder. Bond was denied, and he was held in custody pending trial. Fighting back tears, family members did their best to make sense of the senseless. “The most devastating call that a human could ever get. It’s just absolutely awful,” said Dennis Castaneda, Allison’s brother.
Castaneda described his sister as loving and a great mom. “That’s the saddest part of this whole situation is that there’s a little boy involved and he’s going to be without his mommy,” he said. “She was really, really just a great mom. I think it’s important for everyone to know how much she loved her son.” Sheehan had a 6-year-old son with her long-time boyfriend.
“Allison’s fantastic and at this moment, based on the information we have, he’s a monster and what he did has just robbed many people of a special person,” Castaneda said. He takes some comfort knowing how his sister spent her last day. “Allison’s last day here got to be celebrating her son’s birthday. That’s just a good way to think about it.”
Unfortunately for Allison’s loved ones, as is the case far too often in the American criminal justice system, it took less than a month for that charge to be reduced to second-degree murder. Allison’s brother was not happy about it. “The loss of my sister has been a terrible tragedy for our family,” he said. Prosecutors contended Allison was shot in the back by her boyfriend.
Raczkowski was arrested on a first-degree murder charge, but about a month later, the charge was lowered to second-degree murder. “Shoots my sister in the back twice. I don’t know how you can’t charge first-degree murder based on that information,” Castaneda said. Ultimately, he would not get his wish. On December 20, 2024, Richard Raczkowski pled guilty to second-degree murder with a firearm.
According to court records, a 25-year minimum mandatory sentence was imposed. This means it is possible that Richard Raczkowski could walk the streets as a free man once again. Twenty-five years might sound like a lifetime, but for Allison’s family, the math does not add up. A prison sentence gives Richard a finish line, a specific date when he can step outside, breathe fresh air, and reclaim his life.
That is a future Allison Sheehan will never have. And then there is her 6-year-old son. Remember, this nightmare began as a birthday celebration. In the span of a single night, he went from blowing out candles to losing his entire world. He does not get a plea deal or time off for good behavior. He simply has to grow up in the silence left by a father who treated his mother as disposable.
Resilience, however, is something a murderer can never take away. Allison’s legacy is not found in a court file. It is alive in a resilient community that remembers her and in the future of the son she loved. A boy who is now safe, surrounded by family, and wrapped in the loving memories she left behind. The investigation into this tragic case has concluded, but the pain for those left behind is far from over.
