She P0is0ns Her Husband On A Luxury Yacht, Then Tells Police He Fell Overboard On His Own. | HO

Tomorrow, my husband and I are setting sail on his expensive yacht. I’ve prepared a surprise for him. I hope he likes it.

On April 14, 2021, a 70-foot motor yacht registered as the Azure Serif eased out of Key West Marina in Monroe County, Florida. The water looked calm enough to make you forget it could turn on you, and the air had that clean salt bite that makes even a stressful life feel washable for a minute. A small pennant was clipped near the stern rail—more decorative than patriotic, the kind of thing marina staff sold in the shop by the sunscreen and boat hooks. It fluttered lightly as the yacht cleared the channel at 2:37 p.m., full fuel, full provisions, enough food for two days, and no crew listed on board. No scheduled check-ins. Just a husband and wife heading into open water like the world couldn’t follow.

The owner, Dorian Holston, was 50, a private investment consultant out of Miami who told friends he needed a reset after months of pressure. One colleague, Alan Richter, would later repeat the line exactly the way Dorian said it, half joking and half pleading: “I want a week without clients or markets.” Dorian liked control—people close to him described that as both his strength and his weakness—and the idea of being unreachable felt like luxury.

His wife, Marissa Holston, was 30, formerly a dental assistant. She reportedly told a friend she wasn’t much for boats, but she agreed because Dorian insisted it would be private. Their marriage was just over a year old, and it was his fourth. Six months before the trip, Dorian had executed a revised estate plan naming Marissa a primary beneficiary. In a marriage that moved fast, paperwork can feel like romance with a notary stamp.

Investigators reconstructed the timeline of events through vessel logs and digital recordings.

At 1904 hours, engine telemetry showed a reduction to idle speed approximately 12 nautical miles south of Key West.
Interior motion sensors remained active until after 2200 hours. The internal camera positioned in the galley recorded Dorian entering alone at 2142.

He appeared unsteady, leaning against the counter. Approximately 45 seconds later, Marissa entered the same area, holding a glass in her right hand. Her mouth moved rapidly. The audio captured only the engine vibration.

Dorian turned toward the sink, appearing disoriented.
The recording ended as he left the frame toward the aft deck. At 2217, a pressure reading from the starboard railing increased briefly, followed by a rapid drop in thermal detection from the waterline sensor, consistent with a human-sized object entering the sea.

Forty-five seconds later, Marissa entered the galley holding a glass in her right hand. Her mouth moved quickly—fast, clipped words, the shape of a conversation that wasn’t gentle—but the camera’s audio captured only engine vibration. Dorian turned toward the sink, disoriented, and the recording ended as he left frame toward the aft deck.

At 10:17 p.m., a pressure reading at the starboard railing increased briefly, then a waterline thermal sensor registered a rapid drop consistent with a human-sized object entering the sea. The yacht’s automated systems registered no distress alert and no engine restart. Autopilot maintained low speed and straight heading, as if the boat itself refused to notice anything had changed.

The next log entry came at 7:58 a.m. the following morning when the onboard radio activated. At 8:03, Marissa transmitted a call to the Coast Guard reporting a possible man overboard. Her voice, recorded and later played back in court, was composed in the way some people sound when they’re trying to be believable.

“My husband was drinking rum,” she said. “He went outside for air and never came back. I fell asleep thinking he was resting somewhere else.”

Coast Guard patrol vessel CG27 located the Azure Serif at 9:26 a.m., drifting roughly fifteen nautical miles southeast of the harbor. Boarding officers reported calm conditions and no immediate sign of the missing person. Marissa was described as responsive, steady, not panicked, answering questions as if she’d rehearsed the shape of them.

Detective Langston Price of the Monroe County Sheriff’s Office Marine Investigations Unit was assigned to lead the case. He boarded the yacht at 1:10 p.m. with a forensic technician, and the first thing he noticed wasn’t what he saw—it was what he didn’t.

The galley was abnormally clean for a couple supposedly living on board overnight. The counters looked wiped down recently. The sink showed diluted discoloration near the drain, like something had been rinsed away and scrubbed after. Behind a cutting board, Price found an overturned glass with a small puddle of residual fluid at the bottom. There were no visible open bottles or half-finished food containers in the immediate area. No mess that matched a night of heavy drinking and nausea.

The master cabin looked orderly. A folded blanket rested on the bed. Two cell phones were charging on the side table, one registered to Marissa and one to Dorian. Digital review later confirmed both devices had been powered on intermittently through the night, but no outgoing communication occurred until the morning call.

Marissa stayed on the dock while the inspection began. Price asked her to recount the evening. She said they had dinner around sunset, shared drinks, argued briefly about his work schedule, and that Dorian drank heavily, got nauseous, and went outside for air. She said she went to bed around 10:00 p.m. and discovered him missing after sunrise.

Price didn’t accuse her of anything. He just listened, watching for the places where truth usually breathes differently. He noted the absence of disorder or spillage. He noted how neat the story sounded compared to the environment. That gap between story and scene wasn’t proof, but it was a scent.

The Coast Guard suspended the on-site search that evening and initiated drift analysis to estimate possible location based on current and wind data. Marissa was escorted to shore housing for the night pending further interviews. Price stayed at the dock, securing digital backups from the yacht’s internal systems and rechecking sensor logs until the numbers began to feel like a language.

Out at sea, the water didn’t argue with anyone’s version of events. It just kept moving.

That was the moment everything changed.

Price held the first formal interview with Marissa on April 15 at the Coast Guard station in Key West. Marissa signed an advisement of rights form and agreed to speak without an attorney. She gave the same timeline with smoother edges: dinner after sunset, a bottle of dark rum opened, Dorian drinking at least half of it between 8:00 and 9:30 p.m. while she had one or two small drinks. She described him as talkative at first, then complaining of stomach pain and dizziness.

“He got up and said he needed air,” Marissa said. “He went toward the back deck.”

Price kept his voice neutral. “What did you do after he left?”

“I cleared dishes,” she said. “Wiped the counter. Went to the master cabin. I used my phone for a little while, then I fell asleep.”

“Did you hear anything outside?” Price asked.

“No,” she replied immediately. “No cry. No unusual sound.”

When Price asked why she didn’t search the vessel during the night once she noticed his absence, Marissa said Dorian kept irregular hours and she didn’t want to start a fight by hunting for him if he was resting somewhere else.

“And why wait until daylight to call?” Price asked.

Marissa’s tone stayed even. “I froze. I hoped he’d appear.”

Price noted the wide gap in her story—hours with no independent verification of her activity—and he also noted something else: Marissa repeated certain phrases in nearly identical wording from her initial report, as if she’d decided on specific sentences and didn’t want to step outside them.

While she talked, the forensic team continued its sweep of the yacht. Technicians photographed and swabbed high-contact surfaces, collected items from trash. Among the waste, they recovered several used surface cleaning wipes and an empty packet of concentrated disinfectant solution. Swabs from the sink basin and drain showed streak patterns consistent with recent scrubbing. In the medicine cabinet near the master cabin, technicians found an open blister pack of anti-nausea tablets with two spaces empty.

Price circled back in his mind. Marissa had told him Dorian hadn’t taken medication that evening.

On the bedside table, two smartphones were logged for later download. In the master closet, Price found a small velvet pouch tucked in a storage box. Inside was a gold bracelet engraved with initials that didn’t match Marissa’s. Records later showed the initials belonged to one of Dorian’s ex-wives.

Price asked her about it later. Marissa gave a tight smile. “Old baggage he never threw away,” she said. “We fought about his exes all the time.”

Price recorded it as context, not as motive, because motive is easy to guess and hard to prove. He wanted proof.

A joint Coast Guard and sheriff’s dive team searched the area indicated by the yacht’s sensor data, expanding a grid around the likely point. By evening, divers reported no body, no clothing, no personal items connected to Dorian.

Back at his desk, Price replayed the galley camera footage. Dorian entering at 9:42, unsteady. Marissa entering shortly after with a glass, speaking rapidly, moving close to his arm. Dorian leaving toward the aft deck at 9:46. This meant visible disorientation began less than an hour after dinner.

Price walked back through the galley, this time with the kind of attention that treats every drawer like a witness. In a spice rack, he found two identical containers labeled as the same seasoning. One was factory sealed. The other looked recently wiped and recapped, faint granular residue on the inner rim. Two of the same thing is sometimes just two of the same thing. And sometimes it’s a mistake someone didn’t realize was a mistake.

“Bag both,” Price told the technician.

The ocean doesn’t give receipts. But boats do.

That was the moment everything changed.

On April 16, Price received the preliminary report from the Florida Department of Law Enforcement lab in Miami. Samples from the galley sink, the overturned glass, and the wiped spice container showed the presence of scopolamine and a secondary antihistamine compound. The concentrations were several times higher than levels associated with incidental contamination from motion sickness products. Combined with alcohol, such doses could cause severe confusion, loss of balance, and memory disruption.

Price sat with the report in silence longer than he needed to, because sometimes your brain wants to give the world one more chance to be simple. Then he compared it to Marissa’s story: rum, illness, dizziness, fresh air, disappearance. The lab did not identify any common cleaning agent or food ingredient as the source.

He prepared an affidavit for a warrant targeting Marissa’s financial and online purchase history. The chemical profile suggested deliberate administration rather than accident. A Monroe County judge approved the warrant later that morning.

The records came back fast, and they came back loud.

On March 31 and April 1—roughly two weeks before the yacht trip—Marissa made three purchases from an online supplier specializing in botanical and research compounds. The orders were placed under the name “Marissa Lol,” an alias not documented in any prior use. Shipment tracking showed delivery to the Miami condo she shared with Dorian.

Payment came from her personal debit card. The item descriptions listed “relaxation blend,” “focus support powder,” and “sleep aid sample kit.” The lab’s chemical profile was consistent with ingredients sometimes found in unregulated compounds marketed under labels like that.

Price requested the supplier’s catalog and batch composition through subpoena, but he didn’t need a catalog to feel where this was going. He needed corroboration.

Then the bank statements revealed the number that would keep repeating like a drumbeat: $18,000. In the ten days before departure, Marissa withdrew a total of $18,000 in cash from ATMs around Miami and Coral Gables. Not one big withdrawal that could be explained as a planned expense, but a pattern of smaller pulls that added up. It contrasted sharply with her usual withdrawals of a few hundred. No corresponding deposits. No luxury purchases in her name.

Dorian’s joint account showed no attempt by Marissa to alert the bank or move funds ahead of travel. Meanwhile, Dorian’s estate attorney file, obtained under separate warrant, confirmed the revised plan from six months earlier naming Marissa as primary beneficiary for the condo, a significant brokerage account, and life insurance proceeds subject to standard conditions. Dorian’s adult son was secondary.

Money doesn’t always motivate people. But money always complicates the story.

Price returned to the yacht for a more detailed exterior inspection. Along the portside railing near midship, he noticed a faint elongated smear at hip height. In normal light it looked like a dull mark. Under alternate light and presumptive testing, it suggested diluted blood proteins—later confirmed as human in origin, though too degraded for DNA identification.

This did not fit neatly with the idea of a man who simply leaned over, got sick, and fell by accident. It fit better with contact. Force. A moment that wasn’t entirely his choice.

Price requested Marissa for a second interview, this time at the Monroe County Sheriff’s Office substation. She arrived that evening. Her posture stayed controlled, but her eyes had the sharper shine of someone who knew the room was no longer friendly.

Price summarized the lab conclusions. Marissa didn’t dispute the presence of the substances. She pivoted.

“Dorian got into natural stress remedies,” she said. “He ordered powders. He mixed stuff into drinks.”

Price kept his voice low. “Why were the orders under your name and an alternate surname?”

“He didn’t like using his details online,” she said quickly. “He asked me to handle it.”

“And the $18,000 in cash withdrawals?” Price asked, letting the number hang in the air.

Marissa’s mouth tightened. “Private debts. Things I didn’t want him to see.”

Price nodded as if that answered something, but inside he was assembling the pieces. An alias. A chemical match. A too-clean galley. A delay in calling. A smear on a rail. And $18,000 vanishing into air. None of those items alone could convict anyone. Together, they formed a shape.

And shapes can be named.

That was the moment everything changed.

After the second interview, Price widened the scope. He contacted Dorian’s three ex-wives and his adult son. One by one, the women described the same man with different emotional coloring: strict about money, cautious offshore, methodical about safety.

Linda Caro, 52, a Tampa real estate agent, said, “He always hired crew for offshore trips. Always. He liked planning and backup.” Naomi Castell, 47, in Fort Lauderdale, confirmed it.

Elise Moran, 44, a school counselor in Orlando, said Dorian had firm rules about limiting alcohol at sea and requiring crew on overnight runs. None of them recalled him ever going out on a 70-foot vessel with only a spouse aboard.

Brandon Holston, 26, a warehouse supervisor in Jacksonville, told Price his father had recently talked about setting something aside for him more permanently. “He said he had a meeting with his estate attorney scheduled for the week after the Key West trip,” Brandon said. “He mentioned rebalancing things.”

Meanwhile, analysts traced Marissa’s cash withdrawals. The dates aligned with casino activity in the Miami area and in Hallandale Beach. Surveillance images and chip purchase logs showed repeated gambling without evidence of corresponding winnings. Investigators also found online payments from Marissa’s personal account to two high-interest lending platforms, both delinquent, with automated collection emails piling up in March and early April.

Debt is quiet until it isn’t. And desperation doesn’t always look desperate. Sometimes it looks like a woman calmly wiping down a counter.

On April 17, three days after the incident, a Coast Guard cutter searching southeast of the original grid reported a body in the water. The remains were recovered and transferred to the Monroe County Medical Examiner’s office in Marathon. Dental comparison confirmed it was Dorian Holston.

The autopsy documented bruising along the left rib cage and lower torso compatible with impact against a fixed horizontal edge such as a rail. Toxicology showed elevated levels of scopolamine and the antihistamine compound matching substances previously identified on the yacht. Blood alcohol was elevated but not in a range that alone explained collapse in an adult male of Dorian’s size. The medical examiner, Dr. Victor Salgado, ruled the cause of death as drowning with contributory drug intoxication and the manner of death as homicide, noting that the drug levels would have substantially impaired balance and reaction and that the bruising indicated force shortly before water entry.

Price didn’t celebrate the clarity. Clarity in a death isn’t a victory. It’s just the end of pretending it was an accident.

A judge signed an arrest warrant for Marissa Holston on a homicide charge and a search warrant for any temporary residence she was using. Shortly after, a travel alert revealed Marissa purchased a one-way ticket from Miami to Belize City for April 27 using the same debit card tied to the chemical orders.

Working with Miami Beach police, deputies located her at a short-term rental near Collins Avenue. She was arrested on April 20, 2021.

She didn’t scream. She didn’t run. She looked at the officers as if she’d expected them, and in a way, she probably had.

That was the moment everything changed.

Two days later, April 22, Marissa was transported to Monroe County for interrogation at the sheriff’s headquarters in Key West. Detective Langston Price sat across from her with Assistant State Attorney Carl Gwyn and a recording technician present. This time, Marissa had a public defender who advised her of her rights. At first she declined to answer questions. After a private discussion with her attorney, she agreed to provide a limited statement.

Her tone stayed measured. “Dorian mixed his own drinks,” she said. “I barely understood any powders in the galley.”

Price asked, “Do you know what scopolamine is?”

Marissa shook her head. “No.”

Price asked about the containers and the alias. Marissa claimed the powders were part of Dorian’s “wellness mixes” and he bought in bulk. She said the cash withdrawals were to pay personal credit cards Dorian insisted she opened during the marriage, framing it as an attempt to keep her finances separate, not concealment. As for the one-way ticket to Belize, she said it was a planned break to visit a friend—then couldn’t produce a name or address for the friend.

As the interview continued, Marissa shifted from denial to justification, as if she could build a different kind of defense out of feelings. She described Dorian as controlling and verbally aggressive, said he threatened to cut her off financially and leave her with nothing. “I felt trapped,” she said, eyes steady. “I thought about leaving, but I was scared.”

Price listened, then asked quietly, “So why clean the galley that night?”

Marissa’s lips pressed together. “I didn’t want his mess everywhere.”

“And the delay calling the Coast Guard?” Price asked.

“I was in shock,” she said. “I froze.”

Price stepped out briefly and reviewed new documentation from Dorian’s estate attorney, Harold Kea. Among Dorian’s office files was an unsigned draft addendum to his will dated April 11, three days before departure. It rescinded several asset transfers to Marissa and replaced them with a fixed annuity described as modest support in the event of dissolution or death. The draft included Dorian’s handwriting and margin notes indicating he planned to finalize it after the yacht trip.

Investigators also obtained an email chain from Dorian’s office computer. On April 12, Dorian forwarded the draft to his son Brandon with a message: “I plan to show this to her after the trip so there are no surprises.”

Price returned to the interview room and placed the printed addendum on the table like a weight.

Marissa looked at it. She didn’t touch it.

Price asked, “Were you aware he was changing his estate plan?”

Marissa stayed silent.

Her attorney leaned toward her and said softly, “Do not answer.”

Marissa’s expression remained neutral, minimal emotion, controlled. The interview ended at 3:42 p.m., with the kind of quiet that doesn’t feel peaceful. It feels sealed.

Outside, the ocean kept doing what it always did—moving, erasing footprints that were never meant to be found. But boats don’t forget. Records don’t forget. And money, especially $18,000 in cash withdrawals, doesn’t forget.

That was the moment everything changed.

The trial of the State of Florida v. Marissa Holston began June 6, 2022 in Monroe County Circuit Court in Key West. The charge sheet listed first-degree murder, tampering with physical evidence, and providing false information to law enforcement. Jury selection focused on whether jurors could evaluate technical forensic evidence and financial records without turning it into either a movie plot or a moral sermon.

The prosecution built the case chronologically. Early on, jurors viewed the galley footage from April 14, 2021: Dorian unsteady, hand on the counter, Marissa following close behind with a glass, her mouth moving rapidly. The video ended with Dorian walking toward the aft deck. Prosecutors paired it with the sensor data—rail pressure at 10:17 p.m. and the thermal drop from the waterline sensor.

Dr. Victor Salgado testified about the toxicology: significant scopolamine and antihistamine alongside alcohol. He explained the concentration was far above what would be expected from legitimate medical preparations or incidental exposure and would impair balance, judgment, and the ability to self-rescue in water. His conclusion was blunt and clinical: drowning with contributory poisoning, manner of death homicide.

Forensic chemists testified that residue from the galley sink and overturned glass matched the chemical profile found in Dorian’s system. They described the two spice containers—one sealed, one wiped—and said the wiped container bore traces consistent with the drug mixture. The analysts stated the combination was not found in ordinary cleaning products or typical food on board.

Detective Price testified about the scene: the unusually clean galley, the cleaning wipes and disinfectant packet in the trash, the discoloration in the sink, the port rail smear indicating diluted blood proteins, the shifting explanations, the alias-based chemical orders, the one-way ticket to Belize. He framed it not as one smoking gun but as a consistent pattern: acquire, administer, isolate, clean, explain, leave.

The defense argued the marriage was strained but not proof of planning. They portrayed Dorian as a man who took financial risks and used supplements, sometimes mixing unregulated compounds into drinks for stress. They suggested any poisoning could have come from Dorian’s own experimentation. They argued Marissa cleaned the galley and delayed the call because she was panicked and embarrassed by her husband’s condition, not because she was covering up a crime.

Marissa testified in her own defense. She repeated that Dorian mixed his own drinks and she didn’t know the powders were dangerous. She said she felt intimidated by his financial control and feared he might leave her, but denied adding anything to his glass.

Under cross-examination, prosecutors pressed on the details that didn’t bend. “Why order under an alternate surname if the powders were harmless?” they asked. “Why withdraw $18,000 in the ten days before departure?” “Why buy a one-way ticket the morning after Dorian’s estate attorney emailed about revising his will?” Marissa’s answers shifted—at times calling the surname a habit, at times claiming it was Dorian’s idea—until her story looked less like a timeline and more like a patchwork quilt.

The jury deliberated for two days, replaying video, reading sensor logs, studying financial charts and estate documents. On the third afternoon, they returned with verdicts: guilty of first-degree murder and guilty of tampering with physical evidence. The false-information count merged into the primary conviction for sentencing.

At sentencing, the judge cited deliberate acquisition and use of disabling drugs, isolation of the victim offshore with no third party present, the attempt to erase traces through extensive cleaning, and the subsequent purchase of a one-way international ticket. He concluded the crime reflected planning, financial motive, and an effort to disguise death as accident at sea. Marissa Holston was sentenced to life imprisonment without parole under Florida law.

Long after the courtroom emptied, Detective Price returned to one image that wouldn’t leave him: that small {US flag} pennant clipped near the stern rail, fluttering harmlessly as the Azure Serif left Key West. In photographs, it looked almost cheerful, the kind of detail people add to make a vessel feel like “home.” But in the evidence file, it became something else—a reminder that the most polished settings can still hold the ugliest decisions, and that sometimes the “surprise” someone prepares isn’t a gift at all.

Because the ocean doesn’t judge, and it doesn’t testify, but it also doesn’t absolve. It just waits for the truth to float back up.