- February 5, 2025
Loading
Once Diana Kessler barged into people's lives, she was annoying, crazy and would always overstay her welcome, but people loved that about her.
"It was a good thing," said Kay Farabee, who knew her for 21 years. "Once she was in your life, she wouldn't leave."
However, Kessler was forced to part from her friends in August after she was found dead at the age of 32. The Port Orange Police Department was called to a home on Aug. 27. The home belonged to murder suspect Thomas McMullen Jr.'s parents, who were 1,200 miles away on vacation. Their neighbor was checking on their cat when he found Kessler and called the police.
Soon, a week-long manhunt ensued for McMullen Jr., who was a known narcotics user with a criminal record. He was wanted for stabbing Kessler more than 100 times. Police eventually found him dead in the woods off West International Boulevard. An autopsy revealed he killed himself.
Farabee said nobody knew how Kessler and McMullen met, but she said Kessler was a compassionate person and likely wanted to help McMullen.
After McMullen was found, her friends and family set out to perform one large act of kindness — supporting Kessler's son, Lance — to repay the kindness Kessler always showed them.
"You don't get that kind of showing without being a good person."
— Pete Keirstead, pastor for Thrive Church in Port Orange.
Farabee said Kessler did not always have an easy life. She was born in Romania, and she did not have a good relationship with her biological mother. Kessler was adopted by a family in the United States. However, her adoptive father died before she became a teenager.
"She loved him so much," Farabee said.
Still, that didn't affect Kessler's happy demeanor and love for life, she said. Kessler focused on her network of friends in Port Orange, who had her back when she felt alone. Kessler left her imprint everywhere, and all anyone had to do was look around her celebration of life, Farabee said.
Pete Keirstead, of Thrive Church in Port Orange, led the ceremony on the beach as the sun set, surrounded by a ring of Kessler's friends and family. He compared her to a sunflower, a flower that towers over people and doesn't shy away at their feet.
Though Keirstead didn't see Kessler outside of Sunday service, he said she had an undeniable presence. Kessler typically sat at the front of the room. She was engaged in the sermon and would cry tears of joy.
"When she was there, I knew she was there," he said.
Keirstead's wife, Shaylan, said Kessler wanted to be more active in the church. Kessler loved photography, and she wanted to join the church's Dream Team, a core group of volunteers, to photograph church events, especially baptisms. Her own baptism occurred in August 2016 at Frank Rendon Park, three miles north of where her friends celebrated her life.
Kessler was supposed to begin working in a Christian-based organization that helped children with autism spectrum disorder, said Hannah Hall, a fellow church member.
Kessler's giving nature is something Hall will never forget. When Hall worked for Crabby Joe's, Kessler was a frequent visitor — always smiling and always saying kinds things, Hall said. One day, Kessler left her a large tip, though Hall knew she worked multiple jobs to provide for her 7-year-old son, Lance.
"I knew she was a single mom, and I wanted to give it back … She worked hard to take care of her son," she said.
Her son is now with his father, but has the support of the entire community.
After Kessler's death, friends began a GoFundMe page to raise $1,500 for her funeral costs. Within hours, the page received more than double the original amount. As of Sept. 11, the account had more than $11,600. Silent auctions, which contained big ticket items donated by local businesses and organizations, raised a combined $8,000.
"Lance will be set for life," Farabee said.
Jeremy Kenner, who knew Kessler since middle school, said it's the least they could do for Kessler. She loved children, and she frequently volunteered to babysit them, including his daughter, who grew up with Kessler's son.
He said he'll miss getting random calls from Kessler, as he frequently did in middle school and before she died. He'd joke and tell her to leave him alone, but she'd press on, and they'd talk all night.
"There was no one like her," he said.