Mom of Texas A&M Student Calls to Reopen Investigation After Authorities Announce Her Daughter Died by Suicide

At a press conference on Friday, Stephanie Rodriguez’s attorney Tony Buzbee called on the Texas Rangers law enforcement agency to reopen the investigation into Aguilera’s death

Stephanie Rodriguez; Brianna Aguilera.Credit : FOX 26 Houston/YouTube; GoFundMe

NEED TO KNOW

The mother of the late Texas A&M student Brianna Marie Aguilera said that she believes the Austin Police Department failed to do its job
On Thursday, the APD held a press conference in which they stated that Aguilera died by suicide
Aguilera’s mother, Stephanie Rodriguez, is pushing for a new investigation into her daughter’s death

Stephanie Rodriguez said she is still looking for answers regarding the death of her daughter Brianna Marie Aguilera, and she is calling on the Austin Police Department to “do your job.”

In a press conference with her Houston-based attorney Tony Buzbee on Friday, Dec. 5, the mother of the late Texas A&M sophomore emphasized that Aguilera — who was found dead outside a high-rise Austin apartment on Saturday, Nov. 29 — “was not suicidal,” and that she spoke to her daughter every day.

“I can deal with you being annoyed each time I called or tried to talk to you,” Rodriguez said, referring to the Austin Police Department. “I can deal with how arrogantly you talk down to us each time we talked. I can deal with you telling my daughter’s friends not to talk to me like I am some sort of criminal. But I cannot deal with you doing a news conference and saying false things about my child.”

She continued, “Without a thorough investigation, I cannot deal with you jumping to conclusions and not performing an actual investigation. I cannot deal with your failure to do your job, do your job.”

Austin Police discovered Aguilera’s body outside 21 Rio, a 21-story apartment complex early on Saturday, Nov. 29, hours after the annual rivalry football game between the Aggies and the University of Texas had ended.

On Thursday, Dec. 4, detectives with the police department held an unusual press conference to share a detailed timeline about the hours before Aguilera’s death.

“It is not common for a police department to speak publicly about a death by suicide, but inaccurate information has circulated and been reported and that has led to additional harm of innocent people, bullying, included, and their families,” Austin Police Chief Lisa Davis said. “There have also been statements suggesting the police have failed to do our jobs. Those statements are not accurate.”

“In every investigation, we have to rely on the evidence, and all evidence in this case is indicative of suicide,” Sgt. Nathan Sexton said during the press conference.

During the investigation, they found a “deleted digital suicide note” dated four days prior on Aguilera’s phone, “which was written to specific people in her life.”

“Between all of the witness statements, all of the video evidence, all of the digital evidence collected, at no time, did any evidence point to this being anything of a criminal nature,” Det. Robert Marshall, lead homicide detective, said. “Rather, our investigation revealed that, unfortunately, Brianna had made suicidal comments previously to friends back in October of this year. This continued through the evening of her death with some self-harming actions earlier in the evening and a text message to another friend indicating the thought of suicide.”

Rodriguez has been vocal in her denial about her daughter’s suicide.

Earlier this week, she spoke to PEOPLE about the moment a police officer told her of their findings.

“And that’s when it made me very upset because I was like, my daughter wasn’t suicidal,” Rodriguez told PEOPLE. “I would know. She’s not suicidal. Why would she be? She was living her best life. She loved life. I mean, she loved going to school. She wanted to become a lawyer.”

On Friday, Rodriguez painted a picture of her daughter, who she claimed “was not like other girls.”

Brianna Aguilera.Courtesy of Stephanie Rodriguez

“Brianna was a driven, disciplined and caring person,” she said. “She was beautiful. She was a loving daughter, a protective big sister, and a caring granddaughter, a second mom to her two younger brothers.”

She continued, “I considered her my best friend, not just a mother-daughter relationship. We talked every day and she would tell me everything. … She was not like most young girls. She loved writing more than watching TV. She dreamed of attending law school in New York and wanted to become a criminal defense lawyer. She was so smart and had such a bright future. She dreamt of a life of where she could make a difference. My daughter was not suicidal. I know my daughter better than anyone. We spoke every day. I spoke to her on the 25th, the 26th and the 27th.”

At the press conference, Buzbee — who has handled a number of high-profile national cases including representing several of Sean “Diddy” Combs’ and one of Jay-Z’s sexual assault accusers — called on Gov. Greg Abbott and the Texas Rangers law enforcement agency to reopen the investigation.

“Your headline is this,” he told members of the media, whom he criticized for “lapping up” the details from the Austin Police Department’s press conference the day before. “There are serious and disturbing questions raised with regard to the Austin Police Department’s handling of the investigations surrounding the death of Brianna Aguilera. The Texas Rangers have now been called to intervene.”

Buzbee then ended the press conference without taking questions from reporters.

AUSTIN, Texas — In the shadow of a glittering high-rise, the final moments of Brianna Aguilera’s life have ignited a maelstrom of doubt and rage. The 19-year-old Texas A&M University cheerleader and aspiring lawyer didn’t just fall from the 17th-floor balcony of the 21 Rio apartment complex on November 30, 2025 — she was allegedly ensnared in a desperate, violent struggle, according to two independent witnesses whose harrowing accounts have been dismissed by Austin Police Department (APD) investigators. As the clock ticked between 12:30 and 1:00 a.m., screams of “Get off me!” pierced the night, accompanied by frantic running and muffled cries, just minutes before Aguilera’s body was discovered crumpled on the pavement below. These revelations, unveiled by her family’s high-powered legal team, have transformed a presumed suicide into a potential homicide, fueling accusations of a botched investigation and a family’s unrelenting quest for truth.

The timeline, pieced together from APD’s own disclosures and the family’s counter-evidence, reads like a thriller gone tragically wrong. Aguilera, a political science major hailing from Laredo, had jetted into Austin for the feverish Texas A&M versus University of Texas football rivalry — the Lone Star Showdown that draws thousands in a blaze of maroon and burnt orange fervor. What started as joyous tailgating at the Austin Rugby Club devolved into chaos. By 10 p.m., Aguilera was heavily intoxicated, leading to a minor scuffle at the event where she punched a friend attempting to intervene. Security escorted her out, and by 11 p.m., she arrived at the 21 Rio, a sleek West Campus high-rise popular with University of Texas students, entering a 17th-floor unit with a group of friends.

Surveillance footage, a cornerstone of APD’s case, captures the group dispersing around 12:30 a.m., leaving Aguilera with three other young women. At 12:43 a.m., she borrowed a phone to call her out-of-town boyfriend — a terse, one-minute exchange laced with raised voices, according to neighbors. Then, the abyss: a 911 call at 12:46 a.m. reports a body on the ground. Paramedics arrived swiftly, pronouncing her dead at 12:57 a.m. from injuries consistent with a 170-foot plunge. The balcony railing, a sturdy 44 inches high, loomed as an improbable hurdle for a 5-foot-2 woman in distress, even under the influence of alcohol.

But here’s where the official narrative fractures. APD’s lead detective, Robert Marshall, declared the death a suicide on December 4, citing a deleted “suicide note” recovered from Aguilera’s phone — a digital missive dated November 25, four days prior, addressed to loved ones and hinting at emotional despair. Friends corroborated this with reports of prior suicidal ideation dating back to October, including self-harm admissions and a ominous text sent that fateful night. Marshall, addressing reporters with measured resolve, emphasized the absence of foul play: “Video evidence shows no struggle or forced entry. All paths lead to a tragic but non-criminal end.” Chief Lisa Davis echoed the sentiment, her tone heavy with sorrow: “Our hearts break for the family, but the evidence speaks clearly.”

Enter Tony Buzbee, the Houston powerhouse attorney whose Rolodex includes survivors of scandals from the Surfside collapse to high-profile abuse cases. Retained by Aguilera’s mother, Stephanie Rodriguez, Buzbee dropped a bombshell at a fiery December 5 press conference outside APD headquarters. “This isn’t suicide — it’s a cover-up born of laziness,” he thundered, flanked by Rodriguez and a phalanx of supporters waving “Justice for Brianna” placards. Buzbee revealed witness statements collected independently by the family’s investigators, painting a scene of pandemonium that APD allegedly ignored.

The first witness, a man residing down the street from 21 Rio, recounted hearing a “violent struggle” between 12:30 and 1:00 a.m. — screams, scuffling, and the desperate plea: “Get off me!” A second witness, from across the hall on the 17th floor, described “running back and forth” and additional muffled cries, sounds that reverberated through the thin walls of the luxury complex. These auditory snapshots align perilously close to the 12:43 a.m. phone call and the 12:46 a.m. emergency dispatch, suggesting a chain of escalating violence rather than solitary anguish. “How do you explain a petite young woman vaulting a chest-high railing alone, intoxicated, in under three minutes?” Buzbee challenged, his voice rising. “And why weren’t these witnesses interviewed before the case was sealed as suicide?”

The CCTV footage, touted by police as ironclad, now emerges as another flashpoint. Buzbee claims the 12:30–1:00 a.m. window — the critical half-hour when the group thinned and chaos allegedly erupted — suffers from “disruptions.” While APD insists the tapes show no overt altercation, the family’s probe suggests gaps or overlooked anomalies: no coverage of the immediate balcony area, potential blind spots in the hallway where running was heard, and a failure to cross-reference audio cues with visual timestamps. “The police formed their conclusion in hours, not days,” Buzbee accused, noting that Aguilera’s lost phone wasn’t recovered until December 3 from Walnut Creek, raising questions about the timing of the “note’s” extraction. He derided the document not as a farewell but a “creative writing essay” from a night of partying, irrelevant to the plunge.

Rodriguez, her eyes red-rimmed but voice steel-forged, stood beside her husband, Manuel, as she eviscerated the ruling. “Brianna called me every day — the 25th, 26th, 27th, even the morning of the 28th. She was buzzing about law school, her future. Suicidal? That’s a lie they invented to bury this.” She alleged a prior fight at the apartment, evidenced by text messages police “disregarded,” and pointed to the 15 people present that night as a web of potential complicity. “Someone murdered my baby. They had time to align their stories while the cops looked away.”

The family’s outrage has cascaded into a digital deluge, with #JusticeForBrianna exploding across X (formerly Twitter). Posts from influencers like @DesireeAmerica4, amassing millions of views, amplify the witnesses’ pleas: “Screams of ‘Get off me!’ moments before she fell — and APD calls it suicide? Toxicology pending, but truth won’t wait.” @wienerdogwifi decried the “chilling yell” and “muffled cry,” branding the probe “incompetent.” Even the New York Post’s viral thread, viewed over 10 million times, spotlighted the screams, igniting debates on police accountability. Aggie faithful, still smarting from the 20-17 rivalry loss, have lit virtual (and literal) candles, from College Station vigils chanting “Gig ‘Em for Brianna” to online petitions demanding Texas Rangers intervention — now over 50,000 strong.

This isn’t isolated incompetence; it’s symptomatic of a deeper malaise. Rushed suicide verdicts in young women’s falls — from dorm balconies to urban ledges — often sideline alcohol-fueled arguments, unreported assaults, or relational tensions, as seen in cases from Florida State to NYU. Aguilera’s boyfriend call, described by police as a mere spat, now looms under renewed scrutiny. Friends, meanwhile, endure doxxing and harassment, with one X user noting, “They left her alone on that balcony — what aren’t they saying?”

APD has rebuffed the claims, with Marshall reiterating on December 6 that “no credible evidence of struggle exists” and that witness reports were “vague, post-hoc recollections.” Yet, the Travis County Medical Examiner’s autopsy and toxicology — pending as of December 8 — could upend everything. Buzbee, undaunted, promises a dossier of “witness affidavits, alternative footage, and forensics” to the Rangers, vowing, “We’re not stopping until her killers face justice — or the badge-wearers who shielded them.”

For Rodriguez, each passing hour without answers is a fresh wound. “Brianna was my light, planning to fight for the voiceless as a lawyer. Now, I’m fighting for her voice.” As Austin’s winter chill deepens, so does the divide: a city — and a state — cleaved between closure and conspiracy. In the echo of those screams, one certainty endures: Brianna Aguilera’s story demands more than a label. It demands reckoning.