At the trial, lead defense attorney Jose Baez suggested that the little girl drowned and that Casey Anthony's father, George, helped cover that up — and sexually abused his daughter. Her father has vehemently denied the accusations.
Anthony doesn't talk about her parents much, other than to say she was disappointed when they took money from television's Dr. Phil and appeared on his show. The host donated $600,000 to Caylee's Fund, a nonprofit started by Anthony's parents. At the time, he said George and Cindy Anthony would derive no income from the money. The nonprofit was later dissolved.
Asked about the drowning defense, Casey Anthony hesitated: "Everyone has their theories, I don't know. As I stand here today I can't tell you one way or another. The last time I saw my daughter I believed she was alive and was going to be OK, and that's what was told to me. "
Anthony lives in the South Florida home of Patrick McKenna, a private detective who was the lead investigator on her defense team. She also works for him, doing online social media searches and other investigative work. McKenna was also the lead investigator for OJ Simpson, when he was accused of killing his wife and acquitted; Anthony said she's become fascinated with the case, and there are "a lot of parallels" to her own circumstances.
"I can empathize with his situation," she said.
An Associated Press reporter met Anthony as she protested against President Donald Trump at a Palm Beach rally.
It's unclear why Anthony agreed to speak to the AP. She later texted the reporter, asking that the AP not run the story. Among other things, she cited the bankruptcy case in which she has been embroiled since 2013: "During the course of my bankruptcy, the rights to my story were purchased by a third party company for $25k to protect my interests. Without written authorization from the controlling members of this company, I am prohibited from speaking publicly about my case at any time."
In addition, she said she had violated a confidentiality agreement with her employer, and remains under subpoena and subject to deposition in her bankruptcy case.
Yet she had participated in five on-the-record interviews over a one-week period, many of them audiotaped.
She still dreads the supermarket checkout line for fear she'll see photos of her daughter on the cover of tabloid papers. Her bedroom walls are decorated with photos of Caylee and she weeps when she shows off her daughter's colorful, finger-painted artwork.
Still, she asserts she is happy. For her 31st birthday she plans to go skydiving. She enjoys taking photos, mostly of squirrels and other wildlife. And she loves her investigative work.
"I love the fact that I have a unique perspective and I get a chance to do for other people what so many others have done for me," she said. Someday, she said, she'd like to get a private investigator's license and work for a defense team.
She talks of working on a DUI manslaughter case where the accused took a plea deal.
"I look at him and I think this kid almost lost his life for something they can't definitively prove that he did," she said. "I've lived it firsthand. I didn't do what I was accused of but I fought for three years. Not just for me, but for my daughter."
Occasionally she goes out with friends to area bars and has struck up a few short-lived romantic relationships. When she's out in public, men are attracted to her long, dark locks and petite frame, and often pay for her signature drinks: either a Fat Tire beer or a Jack Daniels and diet coke, with a lime wedge. But news that she is there spreads quickly; people whisper and snap photos, and she retreats to her newly purchased SUV so she can return home, alone.
Anthony speaks defiantly of her pariah status.
"I don't give a s--- about what anyone thinks about me, I never will," she said. "I'm OK with myself, I sleep pretty good at night."
