Blurred shadows in a locked garage: him, alone with her remains, whispering rituals as the blade flashes. Months after her last breath—what unholy act did the camera catch that no one should see?
From a forgotten CCTV feed, the final desecration unfolds—fueling Katt Williams’s blood-oath bombshell and shattering any lingering doubt. A star’s secret sin, captured cold. Is this the clip that convicts, or the cult’s cruel encore?
The footage that’s too raw to unsee—witness the horror:
A stomach-turning CCTV clip, purportedly from singer D4vd’s Doheny Drive rental garage and leaked anonymously Wednesday morning, has surfaced showing the 20-year-old artist in a macabre solo act with the remains of 15-year-old Celeste Rivas Hernandez—allegedly carving symbols into her decomposed body months after her March 2025 death. The 1-minute-23-second black-and-white video, timestamped April 17, 2025, captures David Anthony Burke kneeling beside a tarp-draped form in the predawn hours, murmuring incantations before wielding a small blade to etch what appears to be an inverted pentagram on the torso, bloodless due to mummification but stark against the pale skin. The footage, which has rocketed to 42 million views on X despite platform takedowns, injects visceral fuel into comedian Katt Williams’s explosive accusations of a forced “industry sacrifice,” prompting LAPD to subpoena additional security feeds as the probe veers into ritualistic territory.
The clip’s emergence caps a torrent of digital detonations in the Rivas case: her mother’s initial grooming claims, a hacked Discord “confession,” Tesla dashcam scuffles, brother Caleb’s graphic testimony of a prolonged “struggle,” a timeline-busting Nest cam showing Rivas alive in September 2024, a seized iPhone gallery chronicling abuse, and her leaked final Snapchat warning: “He’s coming for me—don’t trust the Shhh.” Her body, weighing a skeletal 71 pounds and partially dismembered, was unearthed September 8, 2025, in the front trunk of Burke’s black Tesla Model 3, impounded two days earlier for curbside abandonment in Hollywood Hills. Early forensics pegged death to July 2024 blunt force trauma, but the Nest footage and gallery timestamps shifted it to March 2025, with toxicology still pending on possible asphyxiation laced with sedatives.
Sourced from a Nest Pro hub in the rental’s rafters—overlooked in the September 18 LAPD raid that nabbed Burke’s bloodied MacBook and iPhone—the video syncs chillingly with his tour schedule. Geotags place Burke back in L.A. post-Minneapolis gig on April 16, his Withered promo cycle in full swing. The feed, motion-activated at 4:07 a.m., shows him entering via a side door, wheeling a dolly with the tarp-wrapped bundle from the Tesla—parked inside for “servicing,” per subpoenaed logs. He unfurls the remains with clinical detachment, lighting black taper candles in a loose circle before kneeling. “For the ascent… blood for the throne,” his lips form silently, per lip-readers consulted by TMZ, as he traces the pentagram with a utility knife from the car’s kit. The act lasts 47 seconds; he then rewraps her, spritzes the tarp with Febreze, and wheels it back to the frunk, pausing to blow out the flames. The clip ends with him glancing upward—directly at the camera—before killing the lights.
Online, the video—watermarked with a hacker alias @DeepFrunkDivulge—has spawned a digital apocalypse. #CCTVD4vdDesecration hit 6.7 million posts by midday, X’s algorithm struggling to contain deepfake recreations and slowed-motion breakdowns zooming on the sigil, which occult experts on TikTok dub “a Baphomet homage, inverted for inversion rites.” “This ain’t hiding a body—it’s consecrating a kill,” one viral thread from @RitualWatchdog claimed, linking it to Williams’s Tuesday rant at Atlanta’s Tabernacle: “They made him carve the mark—Celeste’s the toll for Interscope’s diamond mine.” Williams, doubling down in a 7 a.m. Instagram Live from his tour bus, added: “I ain’t guessing; I know the penthouse where they coached him. Boy’s eyes? Haunted. That’s not murder joy—that’s coerced curse.” His clip, viewed 18 million times, name-drops execs John Janick and Craig Kallman again, prompting a fresh wave of #BoycottInterscope.
Rivas’s mother, Maria Hernandez, viewed the footage in a secured Riverside DA screening room Wednesday afternoon, emerging ashen and retching into a trash bin, her sobs captured in a blurred advocate’s phone video shared with Fox News. “He didn’t just kill her—he mocked her in death, like she was props for his devil deal,” she gasped, referencing the “Shhh…” tattoo they shared, now smeared in the clip’s low-res. “Katt’s right—Hollywood ate her soul, fed it to my baby. That pentagram? She drew stars, not this evil.” Hernandez, whose GoFundMe for Rivas’s memorial and anti-stalking hotline crested $850,000 overnight, detailed a haunting parallel: Rivas’s final home visit in February 2025, whispering of “circles and cuts” after a “ceremony” Burke dragged her to in Malibu. Brother Matthew Rivas, 18, channeled rage into a TikTok eulogy: “Celeste fought hours alive—now this? We burn the tapes, the labels, the lies. #CelestesSigilIsJustice.”
Burke’s camp, battered by the deluge, mounted a desperate counter via attorney Blair Berk’s emergency filing in L.A. Superior Court: “Fabricated filth from digital vandals—David was in prayer, not profanation. This ‘ritual’ hoax preys on tragedy for clicks.” The motion seeks suppression, citing chain-of-custody breaks in the CCTV’s upload path—a Tor-routed torrent traced to a Vancouver server. Burke, 20 and the Brooklyn-bred TikTok wunderkind behind 1.2 billion-streamed “Romantic Homicide,” hunkers in Houston isolation, his mother Gloria issuing a fractured plea through People: “My son mourns in silence—candles for grief, not gore. The machine twists everything.” Yet alibis fray: A tour bus manifest lists him wheels-up from Minneapolis at 11 p.m. April 16, landing LAX by 1:30 a.m.—ample window for the garage grimness. His finsta, @xtrad4vdshadow, posted a single inverted cross emoji at 5:15 a.m., deleted but archived to 1.2 million shares.
Investigators, eyes widening to esoteric edges, mobilized. LAPD’s Occult Crimes Unit—dormant since a 2019 Hollywood Hills probe—joined the fray, subpoenaing the rental’s full CCTV archive and Interscope’s “initiation” NDAs for new signee Burke, inked in late 2023. “Desecration elevates to ritual murder if corroborated,” a source told NBC, noting the pentagram’s match to a gallery photo from March 14, 2025—Rivas bound in the same garage, Burke sketching sigils on her arm pre-“final text.” Caleb Burke, the 18-year-old sibling whose snitch saga detailed restraints and tire-iron swings, amended testimony under duress: “The cut? After the warning text—he said it ‘seals the pact.’ I held the candle once… thought it was stagecraft.” Caleb, immunity-eroded and sketching exorcisms in custody, faces conspiracy charges if execs materialize. Tour manager Jax Rivera, Venmo’d for “ritual runs,” invoked the Fifth in a federal grand jury call Thursday, his laptop yielding encrypted “oath vids” echoing the CCTV’s chants.
Interscope’s fortress cracks under siege. The label, Universal Music Group’s crown jewel, suspended operations on Burke’s dormant tracks amid a class-action ballooning to 500 plaintiffs—”glorifying gore for gain.” Janick, the CEO Williams fingered, jetted to New York for “crisis consults,” per flight logs; Kallman echoed silence. Insiders leak of a 2024 “ascension dinner” at a Malibu estate—Burke, Rivas in tow, toasting with “patron saints” of hip-hop, sigils etched in ice sculptures. “It was theater—until it wasn’t,” one exec whispered to Variety. Williams’s ripple? His Dark Matter Tour sold out extensions, but death threats forced armored rides, his team citing “Syndicate pushback.”
The footage’s fallout fractures fandoms. #FreeD4vd diehards, clinging to “coerced cult” theories, clash with #CelesteCarved crews demanding RICO raids on labels. True-crime streams like HLN’s “Hollywood Altars” dissect the blade’s glint—utility or athame?—racking 3 million viewers. Spotify’s outright ban on Burke’s oeuvre? Streams reroute to bootlegs, morbid spikes in “Romantic Homicide” searches. Advocacy amps: Thorn’s petition for “ritual red flags” in contracts hits 300,000 signatures; NCMEC warns of “sigil grooming” in fan cults, Rivas’s anime sketches—stars turned pentagrams in hindsight—as cautionary ink.
As October 1’s fog rolled over the Hills, Hernandez traced a yellow-ribbon memorial at the impound lot, the CCTV’s echo in her prayers. “He carved her in life, in death—now we carve truth from lies.” LAPD vows a Friday dump on “extended timelines”; tox could crown the blade’s venom. Caleb doodles pleas; Burke’s vault holds. In Williams’s blaze—”lambs for thrones”—Rivas’s remains, once archived agony, now altars of awakening. The garage’s ghost footage? Not closure, but clarion: Hollywood’s shadows bleed symbols, demanding daylight’s dissect. For Celeste, the fighter whose warnings whispered “Shhh,” the blade’s bite births a reckoning—unseen no more.
