Family and friends of Kimber Mills will say their goodbyes to the 18-year-old on Tuesday.

Mills is one of four people shot at a bonfire in Pinson Oct. 18.

Kimber Mills Senior Photo(Studio 19 Photography)

Her sister tells WBRC an honor walk will be held this afternoon at UAB Hospital for the Cleveland High School cheerleader as doctors prepare her for organ donation.

Mills’ heart and lungs will go to someone in need and money raised through a GoFundMe page will go toward helping the other victims still recovering from the shooting.

The community has rallied around Mills in recent days with the family saying over 100 people came to the hospital Sunday.

Pink ribbons for Kimber Mills(WBRC)

Students and faculty gathered outside Cleveland High School Monday morning to pray for Kimber Mills, an 18-year-old student shot Sunday morning.(WBRC)

“She is so loved by this amazing community she has behind her,” her sister Ashley said. “She is beyond loved and we are so thankful for everyone who has showed up to support her.”

27-year-old Steven Tyler Whitehead(Jefferson County Sheriff’s Office)

The Jefferson County Sheriff’s Office said 27-year-old Steven Whitehead is in jail, charged in connection with the shooting.

November 4, 2025 – In a revelation that has forensic teams scrambling and defense attorneys sweating, a close friend of slain cheerleader Kimber Mills has come forward with a chilling detail from the fateful night: At precisely 12:01 AM, just minutes before chaos erupted at “The Pit,” Mills was seen clutching a silver pendant – a cherished heirloom she never removed, not even in sleep. Hours later, after the smoke cleared and ambulances wailed into the Alabama woods, that same pendant was discovered resting eerily on the log where Mills had been perched, as if placed there deliberately by an unseen hand. The discovery, whispered about in Jefferson County Sheriff’s briefings and now breaking wide open, injects fresh intrigue into a case already roiling with cellphone whispers and viral fight videos.

The pendant, described by the friend – a fellow Cleveland High School senior who spoke exclusively to local outlets under the pseudonym “Emily R.” to shield her identity – as a delicate silver locket engraved with a tiny heart and the initials “K.M.,” was more than jewelry to Mills. It was a gift from her late grandmother, a symbol of family resilience that Mills wore daily since age 12, tucked beneath her cheer uniform or dangling against her pink crop top during bonfire dances. “She was fiddling with it, you know? Twirling the chain around her finger while we laughed about that dumb TikTok dance,” Emily recounted, her voice cracking over a grainy phone interview. “It was right there, shining in the firelight at 12:01. She never took it off – ever. Swear on my life.”

This account slots ominously into the timeline pieced together from the October 18 bonfire bloodbath that claimed 18-year-old Mills’ life and wounded three others. The gathering, a rite of passage for Pinson’s youth in the shadowy expanse of Jefferson County’s “The Pit” – a state-owned wooded hollow off Highway 75 notorious for rowdy off-road parties – started innocently enough. Dozens of teens and twentysomethings encircled crackling flames, blasting country remixes and line-dancing under makeshift string lights. Mills, vibrant in her signature pink shirt, was the heart of it, her infectious energy captured in cellphone clips now dissected by investigators.

But at 12:01 AM, as Emily described, Mills paused amid the revelry. Seated on a weathered pine log ringed by empty beer cans and glowing embers, she absentmindedly toyed with the pendant. Was it nerves? A premonition? Just three minutes later, at 12:04 AM, she slipped away from the crowd – the same moment her now-infamous 14-second phone call lit up her screen, ending in a slowed-down whisper that has detectives replaying it obsessively: a faint, terror-laced murmur investigators won’t disclose but sources liken to a desperate “He’s here” or a named threat. By 12:24 AM, uninvited intruder Steven Tyler Whitehead, 27, allegedly stormed the fray, igniting a brawl that escalated into gunfire. Whitehead, charged with Mills’ murder and three counts of attempted murder, claims he fired in self-defense after being jumped by partygoers. Mills, struck in the leg and head while reportedly trying to intervene, collapsed near that very log – her body later airlifted to UAB Hospital, where she clung to life until October 22, when her family authorized an emotional “honor walk” for organ donation, saving a 7-year-old boy’s life with her heart.

The pendant’s reappearance hours post-shooting – around 4 AM, as dawn crept through the pines and deputies combed the crime scene – defies easy explanation. Found nestled in dew-kissed moss atop the log, unmarred by blood or dirt, it was bagged as evidence alongside shell casings and a discarded .38 revolver. “It was like she’d come back for it, or someone left it as a calling card,” a sheriff’s deputy muttered to WBRC reporters, echoing the unease rippling through the department. Forensic analysis, rushed under the glare of national media, revealed no fingerprints beyond Mills’ own faint traces – wiped clean, perhaps, or never touched. The chain was intact, clasp unlatched just so, suggesting deliberate removal rather than a snag in the melee.

Emily’s testimony, corroborated by two other witnesses who glimpsed the glint of silver in Mills’ hand, has prosecutors buzzing. “This isn’t just a trinket; it’s a breadcrumb,” said a source familiar with the case, speaking off-record. “If Kimber was holding it when she stepped away, who pried it from her during those missing three minutes? And why place it back like a taunt?” Theories proliferate: Did Whitehead, in a haze of rage, snatch it as a trophy before fleeing? Or was it Silas McCay, the 21-year-old now charged with third-degree assault for allegedly pummeling Whitehead in “defense” of Mills, who claims in interviews he was shielding her from assault? McCay and accomplice Hunter McCulloch, 19, were arrested October 31 for their role in the pre-shooting scuffle, but a Change.org petition with over 5,000 signatures – signed by Mills’ own kin – demands murder charges against them, arguing their aggression provoked the gunfire.

Social media sleuths on Reddit’s r/UnresolvedMysteries and TikTok are alight with speculation, splicing fight footage where a pink blur – Mills? – darts toward the tussle. “That pendant’s her ghost,” one viral post laments, overlaying Emily’s account with slowed audio from the bonfire videos showing muffled shouts and a metallic clink at 12:05 AM. Experts in trace evidence, consulted by AL.com, note pendants like this often carry DNA – skin cells, sweat – but the clean recovery suggests staging. “It’s psychological warfare,” opined Dr. Elena Vasquez, a forensic psychologist at Samford University. “Leaving a victim’s talisman mocks the loss, implicates the innocent, or buys time for accomplices.”

For Mills’ family, the pendant is a dagger of grief. Ashley Mills, Kimber’s sister, who chronicled the honor walk on Facebook – drawing hundreds to UAB’s halls for prayers and tears – confirmed the locket’s significance in a statement to WVTM 13. “Grandma gave it to her on her 12th birthday, said it held our family’s strength. Kimber wore it through every cheer routine, every heartbreak. Finding it there… it’s like they tried to erase her, but couldn’t.” The family, buoyed by a GoFundMe surpassing $250,000 for funeral costs and victim aid, plans a memorial unveiling: a silver heart replica etched with Kimber’s cheer mantra, “Rise and shine, no matter the grind.”

Whitehead, a former Alabama National Guard specialist honorably discharged in August for unrelated reasons, remains jailed without bond, his $330,000 initial figure revoked post-murder upgrade. In court Friday, he muttered about “disrespect” from the crowd, but the pendant upends his narrative: If he grabbed it in the fight, why return it? His public defender, assigned last week, declined comment, citing the “evolving evidence mosaic.” Meanwhile, the three other victims – a 21-year-old male, 18-year-old male, and 20-year-old female – recover unevenly; the elder male, shot 10 times while shielding friends, whispers from his bed about seeing “something silver flash” amid the panic.

“The Pit,” this bonfire black hole of unchecked youth culture, faces reckoning. State lawmakers, spurred by Mills’ death – the latest in a string of Pit-related assaults – debate “bonfire bans” and mandatory patrols. Cleveland High, where Mills captained the cheer squad and dreamed of nursing at the University of Alabama, installed metal detectors and grief pods, its halls echoing with her “spunky step.” Vigils multiply: One at the Pit site, candles flickering on that cursed log; another in Birmingham, where Uvalde Foundation pledges a gun-violence memorial tree in her name.

As November’s chill settles over Pinson’s pines, the silver pendant gleams in an evidence locker – a silent sentinel demanding answers. Emily R., haunted by that 12:01 glimpse, vows to testify: “Kimber’s still telling her story, through that little heart. We owe her the truth.” Investigators, sifting timelines and whispers, agree. In a case of shadows and seconds, this heirloom might illuminate the darkness, proving that even in death, Kimber Mills refuses to fade.

For the family, it’s solace amid sorrow: A 7-year-old boy beats to her rhythm, lungs rising with her legacy. But for justice? The pendant’s placement screams conspiracy – or confession. As Whitehead’s trial looms, one thing’s clear: At 12:01 AM, Kimber held her strength close. Hours later, it waited for her return, a promise unfulfilled but unbroken.