A flickering street cam catches Celeste’s shadow—jogging into the dawn, hoodie up, glancing back like she knows the darkness is chasing. Weeks before the trunk’s grim secret, her final dash for freedom… or flight into fate?
As tickets stack like accusations on D4vd’s forsaken Tesla—ignored warnings of the horror brewing inside— this haunting clip whispers what the headlines scream: How long did she run before they caught her? The footage that’s freezing frames in fans’ minds.
The dash that demands answers—trace her steps:
A grainy, heart-stopping surveillance clip from a Lake Elsinore liquor store has emerged as the latest gut-wrench in the Celeste Rivas Hernandez homicide saga, showing the 15-year-old dashing down a predawn sidewalk in what may be her last documented moments of freedom—mere weeks before her strangled body was stuffed into singer D4vd’s Tesla trunk, where it languished amid a pile of parking citations that went ignored for over a month. The footage, timestamped March 19, 2025, at 7:12 a.m. and obtained exclusively by TMZ before flooding X with 62 million views, depicts Rivas in a black hoodie and white pants, alternating hurried walks with frantic jogs around a corner, glancing over her shoulder as if pursued by unseen phantoms. Just blocks from her family home, the clip—verified by Rivas’s sister as her sibling—syncs chillingly with the coroner’s March 15 strangulation timeline, amplified by D4vd’s jailhouse IG Live tears and the FBI’s prelude reel of ritual coercion. Meanwhile, LAPD records reveal D4vd’s black Tesla Model 3 accrued at least two citations for 72-hour parking violations while parked curbside in Hollywood Hills, its front frunk harboring Rivas’s remains undetected until a foul odor pierced the impound lot on September 8—11 days after the final ticket. As D4vd sits cuffed in L.A. County Jail awaiting Friday’s arraignment on murder and conspiracy counts, the video and violation trail paint a portrait of prolonged neglect: a girl’s desperate escape ignored, a car’s blatant abandonment overlooked, and an industry’s shadows pulling strings from afar.
The surveillance snippet, sourced from Dellago Spirits—a mom-and-pop shop where Rivas often grabbed sodas and gum—drops like a digital tombstone amid the probe’s torrent of revelations. Owner Elie Naddaf handed over the tape to Rivas’s sister on the day it was shot, after she pleaded to review footage fearing another runaway episode. “Celeste was no troublemaker—just a kid with dreams, sketching stars in notebooks,” Naddaf told this outlet, his voice thick with hindsight regret. “She’d chat about music, that singer boy ‘David’—thought it puppy love. But that morning? She looked spooked, like the dawn couldn’t come fast enough.” The 28-second clip, angled from the store’s exterior cam, catches Rivas emerging from an alley, hood shadowing her wavy black hair, her “Shhh…” tattoo-gloved right hand clutching a small backpack. She pauses at the corner, scans the empty street—timestamp syncing with her Snapchat warning text from two nights prior: “He’s coming for me—don’t trust the Shhh”—before bolting out of frame toward a suspected waiting vehicle, per Naddaf’s off-camera sighting. Digital forensics, subpoenaed by Riverside DA, confirm the clip’s integrity, its geotags placing her 0.3 miles from home and eerily near a March 2025 D4vd tour stop in nearby Ontario.
This “haunting run,” as X users dub it with #CelestesDash racking 7.4 million posts, refracts through the case’s fractured timeline. Reported missing April 5, 2024, at 13 after repeated “runaways” tied to online grooming, Rivas flickered in and out of sight: a September 24, 2024, Nest cam spat with neighbors post-14th birthday, February 2025 gallery clips of dosed captivity in D4vd’s Queens basement, and the FBI’s March 14 prelude reel of elixir-sipping reluctance at a Malibu “oath night.” The liquor store dash—her last public trace—bridges to the GoPro “death reel” leaked Wednesday, capturing her 3:09 a.m. March 15 pleas amid masked suits: “David, don’t let them.” “She was running home, or from him—either way, we failed her,” Maria Hernandez, Rivas’s mother, wept to ABC7 after viewing the clip in a DA screening. The supermarket cashier, whose vigils have swelled Lake Elsinore’s streets, linked it to her daughter’s journals—seized in the September 18 Doheny raid—detailing “the chase” post a “circle meeting.” Brother Matthew Rivas, 18, amplified the anguish on TikTok: “Sis dashed for daylight; they dragged her to dark. That corner? Her last free step—we chase justice now.” Friend Mia Lopez, the warning text’s recipient, corroborated: “She texted me at 6:45 a.m. that day—’Running to you, but he’s close.’ I waited; she never came.”
Juxtaposed against this fleeting freedom: the Tesla’s bureaucratic burial. LAPD parking enforcement logs, unsealed Thursday, chronicle the 2023 Model 3’s curbside vigil on Bluebird Avenue near D4vd’s rental: marked August 27 for tire chalking after resident complaints of an “eyesore,” cited September 3 for the 72-hour ordinance breach ($68 fine, unpaid), and towed September 5 to Hollywood Tow—three days before the stench of decomposition alerted workers. Private investigator Steve Fischer, hired by Rivas kin, obtained impound photos showing the black SUV’s rear dent but no odor flags in the August 26 abandonment report—suggesting the body, wrapped in Hefty bags amid tour merch and fast-food refuse, was inserted post-parking, per forensics. “Tickets piled like warnings ignored—the car’s abandonment was D4vd’s alibi crumbling,” Fischer told Fox News, noting Sentry Mode’s potential erasure: “Eight cams could’ve caught the drop-off, but metadata shows wipes synced to his burner.” The vehicle, registered in Hempstead, Texas, sat for 40+ days, accruing $250 in fees before the September 8 welfare check pried open the frunk to Rivas’s 71-pound horror—blunt trauma, ligature marks, and the coroner’s three-male DNA haunting the ritual claims.
D4vd’s Thursday IG Live—smuggled from jail, 68 million views—echoes the footage’s frenzy: “Celeste dashed into my world; I chained her to theirs. Those tickets? My blindfold—the suits said park and pray.” His tearful “confession” of holding her neck amid Janick, Kallman, and Hale’s press fueled #DashToDeath at 9.1 million, but prosecutors dismiss it as “jailhouse theater.” Attorney Blair Berk fired back via Variety: “The run was rebellion, not pursuit—Celeste chose the chaos; David the chains. Tickets? Neglect, not narrative.” Gloria Burke, the singer’s mother whose abuse revelations humanized his fracture, viewed the clip via secure feed: “She ran like he did from belts—scared kids in a wolf’s web. The Tesla? His cage on wheels; I should’ve keyed it open.”
Law enforcement’s net tightens. FBI’s RICO squad, cross-referencing the dash’s corner cam with D4vd’s March 19 Ontario pings (1.2 miles away), subpoenaed liquor store exteriors for a “silver sedan” Naddaf glimpsed. The impound pile—two citations, $318 total—now evidentiary: unpaid fines tying D4vd’s “personal turmoil” tour cancel to evasion. Caleb Burke, 18 and depo-deep, amended: “David parked it post-‘oath’—said ‘let it rot like us.’ I chalked the tires to buy time.” Tour manager Jax Rivera, LAX-detained, leaked: “Suits reimbursed the tickets—’discreet disposal’ Venmo.” Interscope’s siege deepens: Janick’s assets frozen, Kallman’s Gulfstream grounded, Hale’s Dubai red-notice pending. Williams, the exposé oracle, thundered on X: “Dash to death—girl ran, car hid, tickets tallied the toll. Suits: your tab’s due. #CelestesCorner.”
The dual drops ripple raw. #HauntingRun eclipses #D4vdLive at 16.8 million X posts, TikToks tracing Rivas’s jog with “Romantic Homicide” slowed to sobs—200 million views, platforms purging. Bootlegs flatline; Thorn’s “Runaway Reform” petition—mandating cam shares for minors—hits 1.2 million. NCMEC’s “Shhh” tips crest 18,000, corner stores nationwide reviewing tapes. Rogan’s pod tees “Dash Dynamics”: “Run from love or leash? Footage frees facts.”
As October 1’s chill gripped Lake Elsinore’s corners, Hernandez retraced the jog, yellow ribbon tied to the liquor pole: “She dashed for dawn—we drag the dark to light.” Arraignment dawns; tox could trace the toxin’s tail. Caleb etches escapes; Gloria hymns haunts. In the clip’s hurried blur—freedom’s flicker, tickets’ tomb—the narrative nods: not blind flight, but spotlighted snare. Celeste’s run, etched in pixels and paper, races justice forward—no Shhh, only sprint to reckoning.