JEFFERSON COUNTY, Ala. (WIAT) — Two additional arrests have been made in connection with the shooting that left 18-year-old Kimber Mills dead and three others injured.
Both 21-year-old Silas McCay and 19-year-old Joshua Hunter McCulloch are now charged with 3rd degree assault for their alleged role in the shooting and placed in the Jefferson County Jail. Each were given $6,000 bond.
The shooting happened at a party in the woods near Highway 75 and Clay-Palmerdale Road during the early morning hours of October 19. Authorities stated what started as a verbal and physical altercation escalated into a shooting. In addition to Mills, McCay and two others were injured in the shooting.
The shooting happened at a party in the woods near Highway 75 and Clay-Palmerdale Road during the early morning hours of October 19. Authorities stated what started as a verbal and physical altercation escalated into a shooting. In addition to Mills, McCay and two others were injured in the shooting.
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Previously, Steven Whitehead, 27, was charged with murder and three counts of attempted murder in connection with the shooting. He is being held without bond.
Jefferson Count Sheriff Mark Pettway said the property where the shooting happened, which is owned by ALDOT, is commonly used for bonfires and gatherings. ALDOT stated the land has long been marked as restricted.
November 4, 2025 – In a stunning development that has sent shockwaves through Jefferson County, Alabama, investigators have unearthed a pivotal piece of evidence in the tragic death of 18-year-old cheerleader Kimber Mills: a haunting 14-second phone call made at exactly 12:04 AM on the night she was fatally shot at a bonfire party. The call, placed mere moments after Mills stepped away from the roaring bonfire crowd at “The Pit” – a notorious gathering spot for local teens and young adults – ended abruptly, leaving behind audio so faint that forensic experts had to decelerate the playback to decipher her final words. Sources close to the investigation describe the whisper as “barely audible, laced with terror,” potentially holding the key to unraveling what truly transpired in those chaotic minutes before gunfire erupted.
The revelation comes just over a week after the October 20 shooting that claimed Mills’ life and left three others wounded, transforming a night of line dancing and laughter into a nightmare of senseless violence. What was billed as a casual bonfire hangout in the remote woods near Pinson quickly devolved when 27-year-old Steven Whitehead, an uninvited intruder, allegedly approached a group of girls, sparking a confrontation. Whitehead is accused of opening fire, striking four people in a hail of bullets. Mills, clad in a pink shirt and captured on video joyfully line dancing earlier that September evening, was hit in the leg and head. She succumbed to her injuries days later, but not before her family orchestrated an emotional “honor walk” at the hospital, where she became an organ donor, giving the gift of life amid profound loss.
The phone record, obtained from Mills’ cellular provider and analyzed by the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Office Homicide Unit, paints a timeline of isolation and impending doom. Eyewitness accounts place the initial shots around 12:30 AM, but Mills’ call at 12:04 AM suggests she sensed danger well before the chaos unfolded. “She stepped away from the bonfire crowd,” a law enforcement source told reporters on condition of anonymity. “The group was large – dozens of high schoolers and young adults mingling around the flames. Kimber excused herself, perhaps to take a breather or answer a text. That’s when she dialed.”
The recipient? Undisclosed for now, but speculation swirls around a close friend or family member. The call lasted precisely 14 seconds – long enough for a greeting, a plea, and then… silence. The abrupt cutoff has fueled theories: Was the phone snatched? Did gunfire interrupt? Or worse, did Mills drop it in panic as Whitehead closed in? Investigators, employing advanced audio enhancement tools typically reserved for high-profile cases, slowed the recording frame by frame. What emerged was a whisper so quiet it evoked chills in the lab: words that one detective described as “a final warning, a cry for help that no one heard in time.”
While the exact phrasing remains sealed to protect the ongoing probe, leaks from the sheriff’s office hint at something profoundly disturbing – possibly a name, a description of the suspect, or a frantic “He’s coming” or “Help me.” This isn’t mere speculation; similar cases have hinged on such micro-evidence. Recall the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing, where slowed surveillance audio captured suspects’ mutterings, or the Delphi murders, where a grainy phone recording of “Down the hill” became iconic. Here, Mills’ whisper could identify accomplices, exonerate the innocent, or reveal if Whitehead acted alone.
The bonfire at “The Pit” – a rugged, off-road enclave in the Tonto National Forest-esque wilderness of Alabama’s backcountry – has long been a double-edged sword for local youth. Known for unchecked parties blending teens from Cleveland High School with older crowds, it’s a magnet for bonfires, music, and mischief. Videos circulating on social media show revelers line dancing under string lights, oblivious to the perils. But beneath the fun lurks danger: prior incidents of fights, assaults, and even videos of brawls involving regulars like Silas McCay, a figure now tangled in the web of arrests.
Whitehead, the primary suspect, was swiftly apprehended and slapped with three counts of attempted murder, one poised to upgrade to capital murder. Held on a $1.5 million bond, he claims the shooting stemmed from a heated argument after he was “disrespected.” But the new phone evidence challenges that narrative. Why did Mills call at 12:04 AM if the confrontation escalated later? Did she spot Whitehead lurking on the periphery, his uninvited presence setting off alarms?
Complicating matters are two recent arrests: Silas McCay and another individual, charged with hindering prosecution. McCay, reportedly part of the bonfire circle, allegedly helped Whitehead flee or tamper with evidence. Reddit threads from r/Birmingham explode with amateur sleuthing, dissecting fight videos where Mills appears peripherally involved – not as a victim, but perhaps as a peacemaker. “She threw up her arm – was it to punch or shield?” one user pondered, linking to Fox News reports of a hero shot 10 times while protecting her. That survivor, a young man whose identity remains protected, clings to life, his testimony another potential bombshell.
Mills’ family, shattered yet resolute, clings to this breakthrough. Her mother, speaking at a vigil, tearfully recalled Kimber as “our light – a cheerleader with a heart of gold.” The community has rallied: GoFundMe campaigns topped $200,000, school prayer circles drew hundreds, and Cleveland High provided grief counselors. Yet questions linger. Why no geo-tags on the call pinpointing her exact spot? Could enhanced audio reveal background noises – footsteps, a vehicle’s rumble, or Whitehead’s voice?
Forensic phonetics experts, consulted off-the-record, explain the slowdown process: Digital audio is stretched using software like Adobe Audition or iZotope RX, isolating frequencies buried in noise. At 50% speed, Mills’ whisper resolves from static to syllables. “It’s like pulling a ghost from the machine,” one expert said. If it names Whitehead or McCay, charges could multiply. If it mentions others, a conspiracy unfolds.
This isn’t Alabama’s first bonfire tragedy – echoes of a 2023 Tonto Forest case where a teen’s body was found in ashes resurface. But Mills’ case strikes deeper, amplifying calls for stricter oversight of underage gatherings. Parents demand GPS tracking apps; lawmakers eye “party patrol” bills.
As the investigation hurtles toward trial, the 14-second call stands as Kimber’s legacy – a digital SOS from the grave. Slowed to a crawl, her voice pierces the silence, demanding justice. “She didn’t deserve this,” her father wept. “But through her, others will live – and the truth will out.”
In the end, that whisper may not just solve a murder; it could save lives, urging every teen at a bonfire to trust their instincts and call for help. For Kimber Mills, 12:04 AM was her final stand. Investigators vow: It won’t be in vain.