“She was just 13 when he lured her in with whispers of love… but what happened next shattered a family forever. Now, her mother’s raw words expose the nightmare no one saw coming.”
In the shadows of fame, a young girl’s life vanished—leaving behind a trail of secrets, lies, and a trunk that hid unimaginable horror. How could a rising star’s world collide with such tragedy? Her mom’s voice breaks through the silence, pleading for justice in a story that demands to be heard.
Heart-wrenching details and the fight for answers await. Click to uncover the truth:
The music world, often a glittering escape from reality, has been thrust into a grim spotlight this week as the mother of a slain 15-year-old girl broke her silence, leveling explosive claims against up-and-coming singer D4vd in connection with her daughter’s brutal death. Celeste Rivas Hernandez, once a vibrant teen from Lake Elsinore, California, whose body was discovered in a horrific state inside a Tesla registered to the artist, has become the tragic centerpiece of an investigation that’s unraveling threads of grooming, deception, and possible murder.
Maria Hernandez, Celeste’s mother, sat down for her first public interview since the gruesome discovery on September 8, 2025, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and inconsolable grief. “He killed my baby,” she said through tears in an exclusive sit-down with local affiliate ABC7, her words cutting through the sterile confines of a family attorney’s office in Riverside County. “David [Burke, D4vd’s real name] promised her the world—fame, love, escape from our little life. But he took everything. He groomed her, isolated her, and when she needed him most, he silenced her forever. I trusted him once. God help me, I did. But now I know: he destroyed her.”
The allegations, delivered with the raw authenticity of a parent shattered beyond repair, have intensified scrutiny on David Anthony Burke, the 20-year-old Brooklyn-born artist known professionally as D4vd. Rising to fame through TikTok viral hits like “Romantic Homicide” and “Here With Me,” Burke’s indie-R&B sound captivated millions, blending moody introspection with alt-pop hooks. His debut album, Withered, dropped in April 2025 to critical acclaim, propelling him onto a world tour that was abruptly halted last month amid the swirling probe. But beneath the melodies lurked a darker narrative—one that, according to Hernandez, mirrored the violent themes in his lyrics all too closely.
Celeste Rivas Hernandez was reported missing on April 5, 2024—Valentine’s Day, by some accounts—when she was just 13 years old. The Riverside County Sheriff’s Department logged the case as a runaway at the time, noting the girl’s history of brief disappearances earlier that year. Friends and family described Celeste as a free-spirited dreamer, the kind of kid who sketched anime characters in her notebooks and blasted music through earbuds on her walk to school. At 5-foot-1 with wavy black hair, she was often seen in casual outfits—a tube top here, black leggings there—adorned with a simple yellow metal bracelet and stud earrings that would later become haunting identifiers in her autopsy report.
What authorities now believe—and what Hernandez claims to have pieced together from resurfaced messages and photos—is that Celeste’s vanishing wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment rebellion. It was the culmination of a predatory relationship that began online when she was as young as 11 or 12. “She met him on Discord,” Hernandez recounted, clutching a faded photo of Celeste beaming at a family barbecue. “He was this older guy from the internet, charming, saying all the right things to a lonely girl. Matching tattoos, secret meetups—he made her feel special. But special? No. He was 18 then, playing games with a child.”
Burke, who relocated from Queens, New York, to Houston at 13 before settling in Los Angeles, built his career on platforms like TikTok, where he amassed 3.8 million followers by 2025. His content often delved into themes of toxic romance and loss, with videos like the blood-soaked “One More Time” and anime-inspired clips featuring a detective alter-ego named Itami—Japanese for “pain”—investigating murders he himself committed. Fans praised the artistry, but in hindsight, Hernandez sees prophecy. “His songs were about killing the one you love,” she said bitterly. “Romantic Homicide? That’s not art. That’s a confession.”
The timeline of horror unfolded slowly, obscured by the digital haze of social media and the artist’s jet-setting tour schedule. Celeste’s family grew concerned as her absences stretched from days to weeks. Hernandez filed multiple reports, but with no concrete leads, the case went cold. Unbeknownst to them, Celeste had been spotted with Burke in Lake Elsinore, near her home—a resurfaced photo from early 2024 shows the pair cozied up in a green booth at a local diner, flashbulbs reflecting in a mirror behind them. Text messages, later subpoenaed by investigators, allegedly revealed a pattern: Burke encouraging Celeste to skip school, promising concert tickets, and even discussing “child rape” in a now-infamous Twitch stream clip that surfaced online around her disappearance.
By summer 2024, Celeste was living intermittently in Burke’s orbit, bouncing between his Hollywood Hills rental and tour stops. Friends in his Discord circle— a tight-knit group of young fans and collaborators—knew of the underage romance, sources close to the investigation told this outlet. “Bribes, NDAs, whatever it took to keep mouths shut,” one anonymous insider claimed. “They saw the red flags but chased the clout.” Hernandez echoed the sentiment: “His friends took money to look the other way. They drove her to meet him, covered for the lies. Everyone failed my girl.”
The breakthrough came on September 6, 2025, when LAPD towed a black Tesla Model 3 from a Hollywood street for illegal parking. Registered to Burke in Hempstead, Texas, the vehicle sat impounded for two days before a foul odor prompted a welfare check. On September 8, officers pried open the front trunk to a nightmarish scene: a severely decomposed female body, wrapped in plastic bags, stuffed amid fast-food wrappers and discarded tour merch. The remains were those of Celeste, now 15, dead for an estimated several weeks—possibly months—based on forensic analysis.
The Los Angeles County Medical Examiner’s Office confirmed the identity through dental records and a distinctive tattoo on her right index finger: “Shhh…”—a mark matching one Burke sported in old social media posts. Cause of death remains pending toxicology, but the case is being treated as a homicide, with signs of blunt force trauma and possible dismemberment noted in preliminary reports. She weighed just 71 pounds at discovery, a stark indicator of prolonged neglect or abuse.
Burke’s response was swift but measured. On September 19, he canceled the U.S. leg of his Withered tour, citing “unforeseen personal circumstances.” A spokesperson issued a terse statement: “D4vd has been informed about what’s happened. He is cooperating fully with authorities and asks for privacy during this difficult time.” Yet questions abound. Why was the Tesla abandoned in Hollywood Hills? How did a body go undiscovered for so long in an impound lot? And crucially: What role did Burke play?
Investigators moved quickly. On September 18, LAPD executed a search warrant at a Doheny Drive rental where Burke had resided, seizing electronics, computers, and hard drives potentially holding deleted files or gory videos rumored to circulate in his inner circle. Sources say forensics teams are combing through Burke’s phones for location data linking him to Lake Elsinore and tour dates overlapping Celeste’s last known sightings. “Several leads” are active, including witness statements from Discord users who claim Burke bragged about “owning” the girl. No arrests have been made, but Burke has lawyered up, retaining high-profile defense attorney Blair Berk, known for representing celebrities in scandal-plagued cases.
Celeste’s family, meanwhile, grapples with a void that no justice can fill. Brother Matthew Rivas, 18, spoke haltingly to NBC News: “I’m just trying to stay positive. She was the light—always laughing, drawing these crazy stories. Now? It’s dark.” A GoFundMe launched by relatives has raised over $150,000 for funeral costs and a memorial scholarship in Celeste’s name, emphasizing art programs for at-risk youth. Hernandez, a single mother of three who works as a cashier at a local supermarket, has vowed to fight. “I blamed myself at first—why didn’t I check her phone? Why did I believe his stories? But this isn’t on me. It’s on him, and the system that lets stars hide behind fame.”
Public reaction has been a torrent of outrage. Social media erupts with #JusticeForCeleste, fans ditching D4vd playlists in droves. “This isn’t fiction—it’s real blood on his hands,” one viral X post read, amassing thousands of shares. Critics point to a broader epidemic: the dangers of online predation in the creator economy, where minors flock to influencers like moths to flame. “Discord, TikTok—they’re playgrounds for wolves,” child safety advocate Sarah Thompson told Fox News. “Celeste’s story is every parent’s nightmare.”
Burke’s camp pushes back subtly. In a pre-scandal interview with Variety, his mother, Gloria Burke, expressed unease with his darker themes: “I worry about the violence in his art. It’s not who I raised.” Whether prophetic or coincidental, it underscores the chasm between public persona and private demons.
As October dawns, the LAPD promises updates “soon,” but for Hernandez, time is an enemy. “My girl deserved dances, graduations—not this,” she whispered at interview’s end, folding the photo away. “David Burke will face God, and he’ll face me in court. For Celeste.”
The probe presses on, a stark reminder that behind every chart-topper lurks a human story—sometimes, one drenched in tragedy. Whether Burke emerges as victim or villain remains the question hanging over Hollywood’s hills. For now, a mother’s cry echoes: justice, unfiltered and unrelenting.
