🚨 “GET OFF ME!” – New Witness Confirms BLOODY ARGUMENT on 17th Floor Seconds Before Brianna Aguilera’s Body SMASHED the Pavement! 🚨

A woman’s desperate scream – “Get off me!” – echoing through the halls… running feet… muffled cries. Then silence. Two minutes later: THUD.

This isn’t the “suicide” cops are shoving down our throats. A bombshell neighbor’s account, combined with a street-level witness hearing the FIGHT, points straight to FOUL PLAY. But who was she battling? The boyfriend on the line… or someone RIGHT THERE in the apartment?

Her family’s dropping witness statements APD “forgot” to chase – and they’re torching the official story. Deleted note? Intoxication? Excuses! The Texas Rangers are circling… but will they bury this too?

This college nightmare just got DEADLIER. Click for the screams that could crack it wide open – before they’re silenced. Who’s the shadow in the balcony? 😠🔥

A fresh witness account has detonated fresh doubts in the official investigation into the death of Texas A&M University student Brianna Marie Aguilera, with reports of a frantic “Get off me!” scream and pounding footsteps on the 17th floor of a high-rise apartment complex just seconds before her body struck the pavement below. The revelation, detailed in explosive statements gathered by the victim’s family attorney, bolsters long-simmering suspicions of foul play and has intensified calls for the Texas Rangers to wrest control from the Austin Police Department (APD), whose swift suicide ruling now faces a barrage of contradictory claims.

The 19-year-old sophomore, whose lifeless form was discovered at 12:46 a.m. on November 29, 2025, outside the 21 Rio apartment tower in Austin’s West Campus, had been reveling in the electric aftermath of the Lone Star Showdown – a nail-biting 31-20 victory for her Aggies over the rival Longhorns. What police portrayed as a solitary spiral into despair now collides with neighbor testimonies painting a scene of chaos and confrontation, prompting Aguilera’s mother, Stephanie Rodriguez, to declare: “This wasn’t my daughter choosing to end it all. This was someone forcing her over the edge.”

Attorney Tony Buzbee, the Houston legal heavyweight retained by the family on December 3, unveiled the new evidence during a fiery December 9 press conference at his firm’s River Oaks headquarters. Flanked by Rodriguez and husband Juan Aguilera, Buzbee brandished a dossier of 30 to 40 pages, including sworn affidavits from witnesses he alleges APD overlooked in their rush to close the book. “These aren’t ghosts in the machine,” Buzbee thundered to a crowd of reporters and supporters hoisting “Justice for Brianna” placards. “These are voices – real people who heard a woman fighting for her life on that floor. ‘Get off me!’ isn’t the cry of someone peacefully stepping into the void. It’s a plea from hell.”

The timeline, as reconstructed by investigators and now amplified by Buzbee’s disclosures, begins with unbridled college joy. Aguilera, a Laredo native majoring in political science with aspirations of law school, arrived in Austin on November 28 brimming with Aggie pride. By 4 p.m., she was immersed in tailgate festivities at the Austin Rugby Club, a sprawling green expanse where maroon-clad fans grilled brisket, cracked cold ones, and belted “Saw Varsity’s Horns Off” amid the pre-game buzz. Eyewitnesses described her as “the spark” – twirling in a custom Aggie cheer skirt, snapping Polaroids with sorority sisters, her laughter cutting through the haze of charcoal smoke and craft IPAs. But as dusk fell and the stadium roar beckoned, excess took hold. By 10 p.m., Aguilera’s intoxication – a blood alcohol level later clocked at 0.18, over twice the legal limit – prompted event staff to usher her out. Surveillance from the club captured her weaving arm-in-arm with a trio of friends, her own iPhone slipping from her grasp into the underbrush during a stumble into nearby woods.

The quartet hailed an Uber to 21 Rio, an 18-story sentinel of student living overlooking Rio Grande Street’s post-game pulse. Cameras logged their arrival at 11:07 p.m., Aguilera’s cheeks flushed, her arm slung around a female companion as they piled into the elevator. Apartment 1704, a modern two-bedroom leased by a 21-year-old UT finance major and occasional Aggie sympathizer, swelled with 15 to 20 spillover partiers – a melting pot of Texans swapping rivalry barbs over EDM playlists and Jell-O shots. The vibe hummed with victory: High-fives for the Aggies’ upset, impromptu dance-offs in the galley kitchen, the balcony’s sliding doors cracked to vent the haze. Yet, undercurrents stirred. Buzbee’s files cite an earlier dust-up at the tailgate – Aguilera clashing with another woman over an unspecified slight, possibly boyfriend-related jealousy, with the rival attendee later spotted in the apartment crowd. “It was tense from jump,” one anonymous partygoer told investigators. “Brie was lit, but that girl kept side-eyeing her.”

Midnight brought attrition. By 12:30 a.m., the throng ebbed, leaving Aguilera with three women: her tailgate escort, a mutual friend, and the unit’s tenant. The space quieted – bass fading to murmurs, the balcony a siren call for cooler air laced with distant cheers from West Sixth bars. It was here, at 12:43 a.m., that the night’s fracture deepened. Phone-less and frazzled, Aguilera commandeered a borrowed device to dial boyfriend Aldo Sanchez, the 20-year-old mechanical engineering major 200 miles away in Laredo. The 59-second call, corroborated by logs from both ends, escalated into a tempest. Apartment witnesses overheard Aguilera’s voice rising – frustration laced with sobs – met by Sanchez’s clipped retorts. “It got ugly fast,” one roommate later relayed to APD. Her parting whisper? “I can’t do this anymore,” a phrase that prosecutors once hailed as suicidal intent but now family allies twist as relational exhaustion.

The line died at 12:44 a.m. What transpired in the ensuing 120 seconds has become the investigation’s black box. A passerby – a 22-year-old night-shift barista trudging home from Pearl’s Oyster Bar – heard the “thud” at 12:46 a.m., her 911 stammer capturing the horror: “It’s a girl… oh God, she’s broken everywhere.” Paramedics swarmed, pronouncing Aguilera at 12:57 a.m. amid the complex’s manicured lawns, her body splayed in unnatural repose, fractures from a 170-foot drop screaming terminal velocity. The balcony? Untampered – 42-inch railing intact, no climb marks. Toxicology affirmed impairment: 0.18 BAC, THC traces from a pre-game edible. No foreign substances, no overdose. APD’s December 4 briefing leaned hard on a recovered “suicide note” – a 247-word draft from November 25, erased but cloud-captured, lamenting academic drown and homesick blues: “Pressure’s crushing me; no one sees.” Friends echoed prior flags: October midterms birthed “What’s the point?” texts, faded wrist scars hinted at old self-harm.

But Buzbee’s arsenal upends that tidy bow. The star witness: A 24-year-old grad student in the adjacent unit, 1702, whose thin walls channeled the pandemonium. In an affidavit dated December 7, she recounts jolting awake to “loud running back and forth – like frantic pacing – then a woman’s voice, high and desperate: ‘Get off me!’ Screaming followed, muffled like hands over mouth, then a scuffle. It stopped abrupt, maybe 30 seconds, then nothing.” Her timeline? 12:45 a.m., synced to her Apple Watch’s sleep log. She peeked out, saw shadows darting in 1704’s hall light, but froze – “party noise, I thought, until the sirens.” Corroboration came from a second source: A TikTok user, posting anonymously under @AustinNightOwl on December 2, described overhearing from street level – 200 yards down Rio Grande – “yelling, a female cry: ‘Get off of me!’ between 12:30 and 1 a.m., right by the apartments.” Buzbee’s team geofenced the post to a nearby dive bar, subpoenaing the creator for a formal statement. A third tip, via anonymous DM to the family’s GoFundMe: “Brie was locked out on the balcony – heard her banging, begging to get in during the fight.”

These accounts dovetail with a neighbor’s earlier December 1 report to APD – a woman’s “distressed voice” echoing pre-fall – but Buzbee lambasts detectives for dismissing it as “ambient party echo.” “They interviewed the apartment girls – all ‘We were chilling, heard nothing’ – but ignored the walls that talk,” he fumed. Rodriguez, eyes rimmed red in the presser, clutched a locket with Aguilera’s baby photo: “My girl called Friday, hyped for the game, dreaming of courtrooms. No despair. This scream? That’s her fighting – not folding.” The family’s skepticism traces to APD’s 72-hour pivot: Initial “accidental fall” whispers morphed to suicide sans full autopsy, tox pending 60-90 days. Chief Lisa Davis, in a December 5 KVUE interview, defended: “We chased every lead – 50 interviews, terabytes of digital. No crime scene DNA, no forced entry. The note, the texts, the history: It fits suicide.” Yet, Detective Robert Marshall conceded the boyfriend spat but insisted: “No physical altercation evidence – just voices raised over miles.” Sanchez, via attorney: “A spat, yes – but I hung up worried, not raging. Never imagined…”

The witness surge has galvanized support. #GetOffMeBrianna trended on X with 1.8 million impressions by December 10, true-crime TikToks dissecting “balcony blackouts” racking 3.2 million views. A December 8 vigil at the rugby club drew 600, purple candles (Aguilera’s hue) flickering as chants of “Rangers now!” swelled. GoFundMe coffers hit $320,000, earmarked for Buzbee’s war chest and a “Brianna’s Voice” mental health fund – ironic, given the irony of silenced cries. APD reports harassment spikes: Sanchez doxxed, apartment tenant flooded with hate. “Misinfo hurts healing,” Davis urged in a December 9 memo.

Buzbee’s endgame? A December 6 letter to Gov. Greg Abbott, petitioning Rangers intervention – granted preliminarily December 8, with a team dispatched for file review. “APD’s sloppy: No balcony sweep for prints, borrowed phone owner ‘amnesiac’ till prompted, that tailgate rival? Unquestioned,” he itemized. Subpoenas fly for Sanchez’s full exchanges, the women’s polygraphs, even 21 Rio’s keycard logs – unlocked service doors a potential breach? Civil murmurs target the complex for “lax rails,” Texas A&M for “rivalry oversight.”

Experts dissect the divide. Dr. Elena Ramirez, UT Austin forensic psych, flags alcohol’s impulsivity: “BAC 0.18? Arguments amplify to edges – 40% campus suicides post-fight.” But Rice criminologist Mark Levin counters: “Screams like ‘Get off me’? Defensive, not despondent. If ignored, it’s investigative malpractice.” CDC data looms: 1 in 5 collegians wrestle depression, but familial doubt – 62% of polled Texans per Rasmussen – screams systemic distrust.

For the Aguilera clan, etched in Laredo’s sun-baked stoicism, the fight’s visceral. Juan, a welder with grease-stained palms now gripping flyers, recalls: “She FaceTimed post-kickoff, screaming ‘Gig ’em!’ Hours later? This.” Their home – tamale-scented, photo-walled – harbors her Aggie ring, unworn for finals. Rodriguez vows: “Those screams? We’ll amplify till truth thuds.” As Rangers sift, the balcony’s breeze whispers unresolved: Argument or assault? Boyfriend’s echo or balcony’s ghost? Brianna’s fall was final; the fight for her story? Just igniting. In Austin’s neon nights, one cry endures – not silenced, but sharpened.