🚨 BREAKING: At 12:43 AM, Texas A&M cheerleader Brianna Aguilera typed THREE chilling words on a borrowed phone… seconds before plummeting 17 stories to her death. Police swear it’s suicide—citing a “deleted note” that screams despair. But her devastated mom? She’s SCREAMING murder, accusing cops of a cover-up that let her killer’s friends sync their lies. Was it a drunken brawl after the big UT rivalry tailgate? Or a boyfriend blowup that turned deadly? Witnesses heard her CRY “Get off me!”—yet no one’s in cuffs. The phone data? It doesn’t add up. Dive into the texts, the screams, the timeline that’s unraveling like a bad horror flick. What REALLY happened to this vibrant 19-year-old with law school dreams? You WON’T believe the final message… [Click for the full, gut-wrenching truth that could blow this case wide open] 👇

The death of 19-year-old Texas A&M University sophomore Brianna Marie Aguilera, who fell 17 stories from a luxury apartment balcony in the early hours of November 29, has exploded into one of the most contentious cases in recent Central Texas memory. What started as a wild post-game party after the legendary Texas-Texas A&M rivalry has spiraled into a full-blown public showdown: grieving family members accusing Austin police of a botched investigation and possible cover-up, while APD stands firm behind its conclusion that the vibrant cheerleader took her own life.

The flashpoint? A single, frantic one-minute phone call made at 12:43 a.m. on a borrowed phone — and three mysterious words investigators say Brianna typed in her final conscious moments that, depending on who you ask, either seal the suicide narrative… or blow it to pieces.

Brianna Aguilera had everything going for her. A political science major from Laredo with law school ambitions, she was a familiar face on the Texas A&M cheer squad — all smiles, high kicks, and Aggie pride. Friends called her the life of every tailgate. On Friday, November 28, thousands of maroon-clad fans descended on Austin for the revival of the storied rivalry. Brianna was right in the middle of it, pre-gaming hard near the Austin Rugby Club. Witnesses later told police she was “extremely intoxicated,” repeatedly dropping her iPhone and wandering into the woods. By 10 p.m., friends asked her to leave the tailgate for her own safety. Her mud-caked phone — still pinging on Find My iPhone — would later be recovered from those woods, hours after she was already dead.

Somehow, without her own phone, Brianna made it to the 17th floor of the sleek 21 Rio Apartments, a high-rise popular with UT students just blocks from Darrell K Royal–Texas Memorial Stadium. Surveillance video shows her arriving around 11 p.m. with a large group. The after-party was in full swing, but the mood quickly soured. Witnesses described Brianna as emotional, upset over a long-distance boyfriend. Around 12:43 a.m., she borrowed a friend’s phone to call him. The argument was loud enough that people in the living room heard yelling. One witness later claimed Brianna screamed “Get off me!” during the call. Exactly two minutes later, at 12:46 a.m., someone dialed 911. Brianna was sprawled on the pavement below the balcony, lifeless. She was pronounced dead at 12:57 a.m.

The three young women who were in the apartment — all Texas A&M students — told detectives they had stepped into another room and had no idea Brianna went onto the balcony until they heard the impact. No signs of a struggle. No defensive wounds. No foreign DNA on the railing. The Travis County Medical Examiner’s preliminary report listed massive blunt-force trauma consistent with a fall. Case closed? Not even close.

Enter Stephanie Rodriguez, Brianna’s mother. The day after the death, she used Find My iPhone to track her daughter’s missing device to the tailgate woods — proof, she says, that someone is lying about the timeline. On Monday, December 1, she personally handed the mud-covered phone to Austin detectives. What they pulled from it changed everything, and nothing, all at once.

Forensics revealed a deleted digital suicide note dated November 25 — four days before the fall — addressed to specific people in Brianna’s life. Additional text messages showed she had confessed suicidal thoughts to friends as far back as October and again in the hours leading up to the tailgate. One message sent that very night explicitly referenced wanting to end it all. On December 4, APD held a rare press conference for a suicide case. Lead detective Robert Marshall laid it out bluntly: “The evidence is overwhelming that this was a suicide. There is no indication of criminal activity.”

But Rodriguez and her family weren’t having it. “Someone murdered my daughter and gave that entire group of friends time to get their stories straight,” she wrote in a Facebook post that has since been shared more than 60,000 times. The family hired two heavy-hitting Texas law firms — Tony Buzbee of Houston (the same attorney who took on Deshaun Watson’s accusers) and Gamez Law — to fight the ruling. At a fiery December 5 press conference, Buzbee dropped bombshell after bombshell.

He zeroed in on the borrowed phone and those three words Brianna allegedly typed at 12:43 a.m. While police have refused to disclose the exact phrasing, citing privacy, sources close to the family claim the message was a desperate plea along the lines of “help me” or “he’s here” — words that suggest someone was physically with her when she went over the railing. Buzbee thundered: “The person whose phone she was using was standing right next to her when she fell — if she fell on her own at all.”

Then there’s the “Get off me!” scream. Multiple social media accounts, including viral posts from @DesireeAmerica4, claim witnesses heard Brianna yell the phrase moments before the fall. Some posts include alleged audio snippets and screenshots of text messages from people who say they were in the apartment. APD insists no such scream was captured on any recording and attributes the claims to drunken misremembering, but the damage is done. #JusticeForBrianna and #MurderNotSuicide are trending across Texas, with comparisons flying to cases like the death of LSU sophomore Madison Brooks in 2023.

The boyfriend, who lives out of state, has cooperated fully, turning over his own phone records. Sources say he confirmed the argument but insisted it was verbal only. Elevator and hallway surveillance shows no physical altercation. The three roommates reportedly passed voluntary polygraph tests. Toxicology results are still pending but are expected to show a blood alcohol level well above the legal limit.

Mental health experts are weighing in on both sides. Some point to the deleted note and prior messages as classic warning signs that were tragically missed. Others argue that intoxication plus emotional distress can create a perfect storm for impulsive behavior — especially on a 17th-floor balcony with a railing that stands just 42 inches high.

Texas A&M University issued a statement mourning the loss of “one of our own” and announced expanded counseling hours and a review of off-campus tailgate safety policies. The university has faced growing criticism in recent years over lengthy wait times for mental health services.

As of December 7, APD says the case remains technically open but is headed for “administrative closure” as a suicide. The family vows to fight that designation with every resource available, including demands for an independent autopsy and a third-party forensic examination of both phones. Attorney Buzbee has not ruled out civil lawsuits against the apartment complex, the roommates, or even the Austin Police Department itself if evidence of negligence emerges.

For now, the city of Austin — still buzzing from the Longhorns’ victory on the field — is gripped by a far darker drama playing out online and in the headlines. A beautiful, promising 19-year-old is gone. A mother is left screaming into the void. And three little words typed in the dead of night may hold the key to whether this was a heartbreaking suicide… or something far more sinister that a group of college kids is desperately trying to keep buried.

The investigation continues.