KELLY EXPECTED TO DIE YOUNG

Woman Found Dead Addicted To Crack, Sold Sex On 95th St.

Kelly Dawn Reilly vowed she could quit the drugs. She also said, without a
hint of a smile, she would be dead before her 25th birthday.

The first vow reflected the old Reilly -- independent, feisty, popular, the
kind of girl who got just about everything she wanted. The second fit with
the new Reilly -- addicted to crack, selling sex on 95th Street, only
coming around when she needed money.

Reilly's prediction came true, probably because she couldn't keep the
promise to herself.

She was found dead in a field north of St. Albert on Saturday afternoon,
about two weeks after her mother, Pat, reported her missing.

Morinville RCMP have not yet released her cause of death but are treating
it as a homicide. No arrests have been made.

Pat hasn't yet seen her broken daughter. The police told her she was "too
messy."

"If she's messy, I don't want to remember her like that," said Pat, a
boilermaker by trade. Pat continually tried to steer her daughter off the
street and away from her drug-using friends. It never worked.

"Only she could choose to change," said Treena Crocker, an old friend of
Kelly's from Jasper Place high school.

Crocker, who spent Monday afternoon at Pat's west-end home, stopped hanging
out with Kelly about four years ago because her excessive drug use was
frightening.

It has been a while since Crocker last spoke to Kelly. She called at 11
p.m. one night about four months ago, asking if Crocker could come and get
her. Crocker, a mother of three young children, declined.

"She tried hard. I said it in the nicest way. I didn't want to be mean,"
Crocker said. "I said, 'Call me tomorrow, we'll go out for coffee,' and she
said, 'OK.' She never called me back."

Pat suspected her daughter would turn up dead. "I'm glad she was found,
even the way she was found. It's peace of mind, accepting what's happened."

At Kelly's old haunts in the inner city, most people shook their heads when
asked whether they recognized her picture. "You see so many it's hard to
tell. Some of them are so pretty," said one lady who lives on 95th Street,
a popular spot for prostitutes.

At Dacia Restaurant on 118th Avenue near 95th Street, one customer said she
remembered Kelly. The last time she saw her was just before Christmas.

"I've seen her a few times. I never knew her by name. I'd smile at her and
she would nod," said the woman who lives nearby. "What a waste of a
beautiful face."

Sean, Kelly's older brother, had the painful job of delivering the news to
Kelly's daughter, Aphracia, 5.

Pat had already told the little girl her mom was missing and day by day,
the tension grew.

"I told her to sit on my lap, over there," said Sean, 26, pointing to the
kitchen table. He asked Aphracia if she remembered grandma saying that
Kelly was missing.

"I started tearing up and she said, 'Oh Sean, she's not dead, she's still
in our hearts,' " he said. "She knew. She was crying on Saturday. I asked
her why and she said, 'I miss mommy.' That was a kick in the gut."

Pat assumed custody of Aphracia last year when the province threatened to
take her away.

Kelly was pleased because it meant she could see Aphracia when she wanted.
She visited about once a week, Pat said, and if she couldn't visit, she
would call.

"I was always hoping Kelly would straighten out and take custody of her,"
said Pat. "But she couldn't keep 20 bucks in her hand."

Albums full of photographs lay on Pat's coffee table -- pictures of
Aphracia with Santa, pictures of Aphracia with Kelly. Sometimes they look
more like sisters than mother and daughter.

"I think she just gave up," said Sean. Kelly told them last year she was
positive for both hepatitis C and HIV. It was a long way from the happy,
generous teenager she had been.

"She said once you should try it and then you'll understand what I'm going
through," said Pat, referring to crack cocaine.

"I said, 'You should quit so you'll know what I'm going through.' "