A father who left his two-year-old daughter to die in a sweltering car while he stayed inside watching porn and playing games has taken his own life—just hours before he was supposed to turn himself in to start a long prison sentence.
Christopher Scholtes, 38, was found dead at his Phoenix home early Wednesday morning, according to the Maricopa County Medical Examiner. No official cause has been released yet, but people close to the family told the Daily Mail it was suicide. They didn’t say how.
Back in July 2024, Scholtes had driven home with his little girl, Parker, asleep in the back of their Acura SUV. He left her there—engine running, AC on—while he went inside the house in Marana, just outside Tucson. He cracked open a beer, fired up his PlayStation, and lost himself in adult videos for more than three hours. At some point, the car shut off. The temperature inside climbed past 108°F. Parker never woke up.
He’d been due in Pima County court that same morning. Prosecutors were ready to lock him up after he took a plea deal last month: second-degree murder and child abuse, 20 to 30 years, no parole. He’d been out on bail, allowed to stay free until Wednesday. Instead, he used those final days to end it.
The judge was told Scholtes wouldn’t be coming. Prosecutors left the courtroom visibly shaken. They said they’d speak more later.
Parker’s mom, Erika Scholtes, 37, is an anesthesiologist at Banner University Medical Center—the same hospital where paramedics rushed Parker that awful afternoon. Erika was at work when it happened. She’d warned him, over and over. Texts pulled from their phones show her pleading: “I told you to stop leaving them in the car. How many times have I told you?” When she realized what had happened, she wrote: “We’ve lost her. She was perfect.” He replied: “Babe, I’m sorry. How could I do this? I killed our baby. This can’t be real.”
Their other two daughters—then nine and five—told police their dad did this kind of thing all the time. Left them strapped in, engine idling, while he ran errands or zoned out at home. One of the girls said he got “distracted by playing his game and putting his food away.” They watched him drink. They saw the fights. One remembered: “He still drinks too much beer, and he keeps leaving us in the car when my mom told him to stop. That’s how he made my baby sister die.”
Security footage caught him shoplifting beer from a gas station and a grocery store on the way home that day. He stopped in the bathroom to hide cans in his clothes. He drank some while Parker cooked in the car.
He lied at first—said he got home at 2:30 p.m. Cameras proved he pulled in at 12:53. The older girls had just come back from a trampoline park he’d let them go to alone. Everyone went inside. Parker stayed in the car. Erika got home after 4 p.m., asked where the toddler was, and they ran out in panic. First responders couldn’t save her. She was gone within the hour.
The family had money—Erika bought a $1 million four-bedroom house in Phoenix with a pool this past April. They even took a trip to Maui earlier this year while Christopher was out on bail, with court permission.
But the cracks were deep. Texts show years of fights over drinking, reckless driving, neglect. One message from Erika: “You drove home drunk with two minors. You drink to excess every time. I’ve been asking for three years to cut back and it’s gotten worse.” He admitted he was “a piece of shit addict” who needed to get hooked on “healthy things like running again.” Ten days later, she accused him of hitting 138 mph after drinking—with Parker in the car. “You hate me,” he texted. “She was sleeping, it’s fine.”
His oldest daughter, now 17, from a previous relationship, sued him and Erika last week—for emotional distress, assault, battery, fraud. She told child services years ago that he’d slap her, pull her hair, slam her head into walls. She once called police, scared to go home after losing money, afraid he’d hit her. He lost custody. Her mom died earlier this year. Now she lives with a guardian.
Even back then, family members say, he left her and the younger girls in hot cars long enough for the AC to die. She was old enough to figure out how to restart the engine. Parker wasn’t.
Wednesday was supposed to be the end of the legal fight. Instead, it became the end of everything.
If you or someone you know is struggling, call or text 988—the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline.