A smiling woman with blonde hair in a white dress and a man with a beard wearing a light-colored shirt, posing closely together indoors.
A chilling 911 call blasted through the calm of Independence, Kentucky: A young woman was reporting that her ex-fiancé had forced his way into her new apartment and vowed to kill her. Heaven Glisson, 24, and the doting mother of two, had moved into Taylor Ridge Apartments just weeks earlier to escape his abuse.
Police came that Friday night, Sept. 19, 2025, but let Donald Bryant go after he appeared cooperative, leaving Heaven vulnerable to what happened next.
Two days later, on Sept. 21, under the cover of night again, around 11:20 p.m., around when their day began, gunshots rang out as two people were killed and a woman was seriously injured [neighbors heard cries followed by shots and made a desperate call to authorities].
Officers responded to the scene and, in a parking lot, possibly after rushing to help Heaven, they found Daylon Bradford, a 33-year-old friend of the resident and apartment dweller with severe gunshot wounds.
Heaven and Bryant had run into the dark woods to the rear of the complex, leading to an extensive manhunt. SWAT teams, drones, and K-9 units canvassed a neighborhood, and anxiety spread among residents.
Sometime after 1 a.m., when gunshots thundered yet again, the fears heightened that something horrific was happening in the darkness.
At dawn on September 22, searchers found two bodies in the underbrush. Heaven was lifeless with bullet holes in her body, her hopes of a fresh start cut short. The gunman, Bryant, 34, had killed himself, and the fatal end came as a particularly violent denouement.
Bradford struggled for his life at the University of Cincinnati Medical Center, where he died that evening. He stepped in to defend Heaven, they are believed to have told investigators, and became an accidental savior in the melee. And his was the third death in a spineless cycle of irrational fury.
Heaven initially viewed Bryant over the first six months as her “knight in shining armor,” family told The Palm Beach Post, but the control became toxic. She called off their engagement and moved from him with her children and even their baby son. Bryant set a chilling prelude to the attack when he texted just hours before: “I hope you’re ready to have some fun tonight,” a final warning tragically disregarded.
The past haunted Bryant with a history of repeated violence and legal issues. He was a convicted felon and thus prohibited by law from possessing a gun, but he borrowed one from a friend under false pretenses. Protection orders filed by another woman outlined his pattern, and left unanswered why such red flags went unheeded.
The father of Heaven, Dave Wilson, expressed unadulterated anger at where the system had failed. He said police should have taken Bryant into custody during the first visit, and dismissed their lack of action as a deadly mistake. “They failed my daughter,” he said, one man echoing the heartache of a family fractured by preventable loss.
Her grandmother, Kristina Cochran, described how Heaven had confided in fears about being abused and had planned to file for a protective order the following day. The relocation to Independence was supposed to be a safe harbor, her and the kids. Instead, it turned out to be the backdrop for her last, doomed dash for survival.”
Experts, including police officers who have since retired, are noting classic markers of domestic abuse escalating in a person following a separation. “It’s always worse,” one said, calling for more robust measures than mere words. This case -which isn’t the only E of its kind-spotlights inadequacies in shielding victims, even when threats cry out for action.
The community is reeling from the horror, as residents such as Amy Shry remember the silence that followed the first pop. Police are still investigating the vehicle and where the weapon was borrowed. The clamor for reform is loudening, demanding better protections to stop such cycles before they take innocent lives.
Two young kids are now left to live out a life without their mother, which no amount of justice will accomplish. Heaven’s story sets off urgent debates about early signs of danger. Her family members are holding on to memories of her warmth and have promised to fight for changes in her name.
As probes conclude, the haunting question remains: What if that first call to his mother had resulted in actual protection? This tragedy illustrates the delicate interplay between escape and danger for abuse survivors. It calls on us not to draw new lines of division, but to listen harder, work faster, and protect lives like Heaven’s by creating a safer world
