“She Had Her Whole Life Ahead of Her”

Mikaela Kupfer woke up in the desert on the morning of Thursday, January 13, 2022. The 21-year-old was in Joshua Tree National Park, a few hours outside Los Angeles, where she was camping with friends. She looked at her phone: still no service. One of the last calls she’d been able to get through was one she made the night before, to her elder sister, Brianna. The two talked or texted every day, always ending their calls with an “I love you.” Friends envied the sisters’ bond. “She was more than a sister to me; she was my best friend, my person,” Mikaela says. “It’s like we were extensions of each other.”

Meanwhile, in Los Angeles, Brianna was getting ready for work. She put on an oversize cozy white sweater, black pants, and her favorite white tennis shoes; twisted her long, wavy brown hair into a loose bun; and packed her snacks for the day: some fruit, nuts, and raisins.

It would take Brianna about 20 minutes to get from her Culver City apartment to her job at Croft House, a boutique furniture store on La Brea Avenue. The area, once a vibrant and trendy section of the city, was now in transition. Several businesses had closed or moved after the pandemic, and it didn’t feel as safe as it used to. In fact, a chiropractor’s office close to Croft House was planning to hire a security guard after a receptionist was forced to remove a few “shady” people who had walked in off the street.

The owners of Croft House loved Brianna, who was artistic and patient with customers. And Brianna loved her job as a design consultant. The steady paycheck had allowed her to finally move out of her parents’ home and start “adulting” at the age of 24. She was enrolled in a graduate design program at the University of California, Los Angeles, and had dreams of creating her own product line someday. In the meantime, she had gotten over a recent breakup and was ready to meet someone new, maybe start a family; she kept a running list of baby names on her laptop.

Normally, she had Thursdays off. But a fellow employee had a pre-natal-doctor’s appointment, and Brianna had volunteered to take her shift. She was glad to help out, especially since she wasn’t going to be working that weekend, for once; she was packed and ready to fly to New York to celebrate her best friend’s birthday. The previous night, she had told Mikaela how excited she was. Before leaving home that morning, Brianna finished writing her friend’s birthday card and signed off with a PS: “Can’t wait to be old women together!”

The Drifter

Shawn Laval Smith woke up in a homeless shelter on the morning of January 13 and put on a pair of black pants, a black T-shirt, and a black hoodie. The six-foot-three, solidly built 31-year-old then slipped on a white surgical mask, a pair of mirrored reflective sunglasses, and a large backpack. Inside the backpack was a bottle of dandruff shampoo, a toothbrush, and other toiletries. Also inside were two items Smith often carried with him: an audio recorder and a long silver fillet knife.

Smith was a drifter. He had been homeless for over a decade, in and out of mental-health programs, on and off medications. His long criminal record listed more than a dozen arrests, starting when he was a teenager living in Charleston, South Carolina. Possession of marijuana, driving without a license, stealing bikes. He spent six months in a San Diego jail for carrying a concealed dagger and using it in a threatening manner. Back in Charleston, he was involved in a road-rage incident in which he fired a flare gun into the open window of a car with a child inside. Luckily, no one was hurt. Smith was arrested and somehow able to post the $50,000 bail, after which he promptly skipped town.

In early 2021, near San Mateo, California, Smith vandalized a car, then bit and threatened to kill one of the officers who arrested him. Smith was released after serving just over half of his eight-month sentence, and then he never showed up for any probation meetings. A warrant was issued for his arrest, but Smith was long gone from the area, now living on the streets of Los Angeles.

Sometime in the early morning of January 13, Smith left the homeless shelter and headed to La Brea Avenue, where he started walking in and out of various businesses as if he was looking for something. He stepped into an art gallery and asked an employee if they “sold art.” When Smith heard the voice of a co-worker from the back, he abruptly walked out. At the nearby chiropractor’s office, Smith asked the receptionist if they do “orthopedics.” When she pointed out the various exam rooms filled with patients, he left and returned to the street.

At 10 a.m., Brianna Kupfer parked her car in the employee parking lot by the alley out back, stepped out, and saw a security guard from a neighboring business waving hello. The guard had a soft spot for Brianna. Once, when they were both wearing denim jackets, she grinned at him and announced, “Hey, we’re twinning!”

Brianna unlocked the store’s back door and turned on the lights, illuminating the vast showroom filled with “vignettes,” as they’re called in the furniture business: sample layouts of bedrooms, kitchens, living rooms. She had styled many of the mini-sets to show off the store’s locally manufactured pieces.

Brianna crossed the showroom floor, sat down on one of the black mesh desk chairs, and turned on the computers. She checked the schedule; a customer would be coming in for an appointment early that afternoon. It looked like an easy day, a good start to the fun weekend Brianna was so looking forward to.

“Weird Vibes”

At 1:30 p.m., Shawn Smith walked into Croft House. Brianna was alone at the desk. “So y’all sell furniture and stuff?,” Smith asked. He told her he needed a price on a living-room set. But before she could offer any information, he changed the subject: “So, are you Mediterranean? American?” Brianna asked Smith what he was looking for. He said his girlfriend was moving in and wanted a green sofa. Brianna suggested that he look around. But he kept talking. He asked if he could have her Facebook contact info. Brianna told him she didn’t have Facebook. Then Smith asked if she’d been “paying attention to Biden.” She replied patiently, “A little bit, yeah,” and surreptitiously picked up her cell phone.

At 1:37 p.m., Brianna texted her manager: “Can you call me? There’s someone here giving me weird vibes.” Smith suddenly announced that he was leaving but might stop by later. Brianna replied, “Cool.” Smith left the store. Brianna immediately checked her phone: no reply yet. Less than half a minute later, she looked up. Smith was back at the desk.

At 1:44 p.m., Brianna’s manager, Kari Streib, saw her text and immediately tried to call Brianna. No answer. She dialed the store number, but no one picked up. She called the store’s owner, Riley Rea, who told her to call 911. He got into his car and raced toward the store. On his way, he called the chiropractor’s office next door: no answer. He opened the app for the store’s security cameras: Brianna was at the employee desk. A man was standing close to her. Suddenly, Brianna ran from the desk toward the front door. The man followed. She rushed past a white couch—a blind spot, outside the range of the security cameras, which didn’t capture what happened next.

A few minutes later, two customers walked into Croft House, where they found a young woman on her back, lying motionless on the ground, arms flung up over her head as if she surrendered to something. Her face and white sweater were streaked with blood. Frantic, the customers ran out of the store and called the police.

At 1:55 p.m., first responders arrived at Croft House. They checked the victim for a pulse, in vain. She had been stabbed in the chest, pelvis, lungs, liver, stomach. Her arms and legs had been sliced several times, both front and back; these were defensive wounds. Brianna tried to stop the blows raining down on her. Later, an autopsy will reveal she suffered 46 sharp-force injuries, some as deep as five and a half inches.

At two p.m., the first L.A.P.D. homicide detective arrived, about the same time as Rea, who was devastated to learn that Brianna was dead. He shared the security-camera video of Brianna running past some wall mirrors by the white couch. The detective examined the couch and discovered a large shoeprint on a cushion. Whoever stabbed Brianna jumped off this piece of furniture to intercept her before she could escape. Another video, from a camera positioned at the back of the store, shows the suspect running out the rear door into the alley.

After gathering video from all the businesses their suspect would have passed by after leaving Croft House, the police tracked him to a 7-Eleven, where he purchased a vape pen before exiting and then disappearing between two buildings. They released Smith’s photo to the media and offered a reward for information leading to his capture.

Inside Croft House, the knife used in the attack was found on a small side table near Brianna’s body. The seven-inch-long blade was bloody and grotesquely bent. An officer stepped over to the employee desk, where she spotted a small audio recorder, its tiny red light blinking. The device had been recording the last minutes of Brianna Kupfer’s life.

Manhunt

Late that Thursday afternoon, Lori and Todd Kupfer answered the door of their home in Pacific Palisades, California. A pair of police officers were there to deliver the awful news.

Lori screamed. Her husband and their two sons were unable to speak or move. In the midst of their abject grief, Lori realized they had to let Mikaela know what had happened. Lori tried calling her younger daughter. She left a voicemail and sent several text messages asking Mikaela to come home immediately and begging her not to read anything.

The next morning, Mikaela’s phone started working again. She was driving back to L.A. when she saw not only her parent’s cryptic texts but also several from friends offering sympathy about her sister. Mikaela’s mind started racing. Had something happened to Brianna’s plane on her way to New York the night before? Could she have been in a mass shooting? Finally, Mikaela was able to reach her parents, but their words didn’t make sense.

“My big sister was the person I would go to for any support,” Mikaela says. “She was the glue between us siblings. The person we needed most to get through this was her.”

After a six-day manhunt, Shawn Smith was arrested. A tipster had called the police after spotting him at a bus stop in Pasadena. Police handcuffed Smith and searched his backpack. In addition to toothpaste and tissues they found two knives, a new audio recorder, and a copy of City of the Dead, by James Patterson.

Smith was eventually charged with one count of murder with the special circumstances of lying in wait. He pleaded not guilty by reason of insanity. However, a court-appointed doctor examined Smith and declared him competent to stand trial.

As pre-trial hearings were about to start, the Kupfer family contemplated going to court, but no one wanted to be in the same room with Brianna’s killer. It was bad enough to see Smith’s photo in the press. Mikaela was adamant: she couldn’t bear to look at the monster who killed Brianna. Lori and Todd decided they would go to all the legal proceedings; this was one of the last things they could do for their daughter. Her brothers agreed to go occasionally.

The first time Brianna’s parents saw Shawn Smith in person, Lori Kupfer stared at him and had an unexpected thought. “His face, he doesn’t look like a monster,” she recalls thinking. “Evil doesn’t necessarily look evil.”

Then Smith started acting out, jumping out of his seat, yelling that he wanted to represent himself. The judge ordered deputies to restrain Smith and put a spit mask on him. His erratic behavior continued; at another pre-trial hearing he turned to the Kupfers and snarled at them. They heard him say he wanted to kill them. Lori was shaking. “I started thinking of my daughter, realizing the horror that she was met with,” she says. Smith was shackled and removed from court. Lori and Todd decided they were not going to attend any more hearings.

Then they got information that Smith might be trying to secure a plea agreement, with the possibility of parole. The Kupfers were vehemently opposed to any deal. California doesn’t enforce the death penalty, so the best-case scenario as far as Lori and Todd were concerned was to keep Smith behind bars for life. “This is not an eye for an eye,” Lori says. “I just want society protected. And if they don’t do this right, he’s going to kill someone again.”

The Kupfers were present every day of the trial.

Graphic Material

The trial began on August 29, 2024. Smith, dressed in orange prison garb, was wheeled into the courtroom on a gurney—strapped down and handcuffed. The sheriff’s deputies took him into a private side room where he changed into street clothes. Meanwhile, the gallery of the courtroom began filling up. The prosecution and defense teams arrived, journalists streamed in, a photographer set up a video camera. The Kupfer family, minus Mikaela, took their seats.

Smith, now in a striped dress shirt and khaki pants, his thick black hair in two short pigtails, re-entered the courtroom, wearing the mandated spit mask.

Just after 10 a.m., Judge Mildred Escobedo called for the jury to be brought in and then issued a warning: “There will be graphic material presented that may cause reactions. Make an effort to not make gasps or sounds to whatever may be shown in court.”

And with that, opening statements began. But only the prosecutor, Habib Balian, presented his case at the start of the trial. Smith’s attorney, Robert Haberer, declined to offer an overview of his defense, an unusual though not unheard-of strategy.

To keep Smith behind bars with no parole, Balian had to convince the jury that the special circumstances of lying in wait was warranted. He projected a photo from his laptop onto the courtroom’s large TV screen: a picture of Brianna, whom he described as empathetic, smart, and reliable. “She had her whole life ahead of her,” he said.

He told the jury that Smith had been hunting for a lone female to kill on January 13, walking out of at least five stores that morning whenever he noticed more than one person inside. Next, Balian shared an image from the security cameras inside Croft House on the day of the attack. Smith is standing across from Brianna. She’s seated at the employee desk and looks relaxed, her left arm slung over the back of the chair.

The prosecutor turned to address Brianna’s family to say that now would be a good time to leave. After the courtroom’s heavy wooden double doors closed, Balian introduced the recording with an apology: “No one should have to hear what I’m going to play for you. Ladies and gentlemen, these are the last seven minutes of Brianna Kupfer’s life.”

Because the audio was distorted at times, Balian put a transcript of the conversation up on the screen, so the jurors could follow the conversation between Smith and Brianna.

After the initial small talk, Smith tells Brianna that his girlfriend “told me to get your information.” Brianna offers him the store manager’s business card. “You can have one of these.”

Smith then asks Brianna, “Can I tell you a story?”

Brianna replies, “How long is it, ’cause I do have to get to like 40 e-mails.”

Smith says, “Oh, it’s not that long. So I think the government is crazy.... They got me doing like crazy shit, man.... I’ve been thinking, I need some information and I need you to talk about it.”

Brianna can be heard laughing nervously. Smith is not making sense as he continues, “I notice them both putting out information about what they was doing on the Internet.... Everybody knows about it … you know what I mean?… Things be so crazy nowadays.”

Brianna responds, “Yeah.”

The prosecutor believes that Smith may have pulled out his knife at this point in the conversation, because he can be heard saying, “So I’m not gonna hurt you, right, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The recording had become more difficult to understand because of rustling noises. All eyes were on the screen showing the transcript.

The male voice tells Brianna to put the phone down. She tells him she has already called the cops. He tells her to get down on the floor.

Kupfer: I honestly can help you out, look …

Male: Get down … right now.

Kupfer: Wait, no.

Male: Get down on the floor.

[running noises]

Kupfer: [screams] I wanted to help you, I can help you, I can help you! [screams] Wait, get off me!

Male: It’s over. It’s over. It’s over.

Kupfer: Oh my God. Okay. Okay.

Male: It’s over.

Kupfer: Okay, yeah.

Male: It’s over, it’s over, it’s over bitch. It’s over. It’s over bitch.

The courtroom reverberated with the anguished moans and last breaths of Brianna Kupfer. Then, silence, save for the in-store music in the background and the ringing of a phone. The prosecutor stopped the recording. Several people in the courtroom were openly weeping. A box of tissues was passed around. Smith looked at a clock on the wall, then leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs.

Beast Mode

After a short recess, Brianna’s family filed back into the courtroom. Prosecutor Balian addressed the question of motive. “Why Brianna? He wanted to kill women. You’re going to hear from his own mouth why this happened … his vile and disturbing thoughts about women.”

Apparently, Smith had been using the portable recorder he left behind at Croft House as a diary of sorts. Police extracted dozens of audio clips from the device, most of Smith ranting about government conspiracies and rapping to the beat in his head. He also recorded this diatribe 18 days before Brianna’s murder:

Male: “I do not like bitches, girl. You all primary targets girl.... N***er I will smoke you all mother fucker girl! And it’s a wrap. You’re lucky I ain’t strapped.... I’m going to kill you all mother fuckers … that’s all I give a fuck about. That’s all.”

In another recording, Smith can be heard saying: “I fucked my life, I had my chance, I blew it, I’m-a destroy everything.”

Over the next few days, the prosecutor called several witnesses to the stand, including experts who confirmed it was Smith’s DNA found on the knife and audio recorder. When the medical examiner’s testimony began, the Kupfer family immediately covered their eyes. He showed the jury photos, told them that Brianna’s autopsy took two days to complete because “she sustained more than 46 injuries because … the blade entered and exited her body in different places.” Brianna died from exsanguination—loss of blood—within seconds to a minute, he said.

After three and a half days of testimony, the prosecutor rested his case. Defense attorney Robert Haberer rested his case, too, without having actually presented one or even calling a single witness. But the jury would hear from him soon: closing arguments were next.

Haberer faced the jury and began with a question: “Why has this case stirred up more emotion and garnered more media coverage?” He then reached over and picked up two giant photos on poster boards; one is of Brianna Kupfer, the other of Shawn Smith. He hung the images side by side and said, “There’s something about him and her, notice in the photos? Consider if they were the cultural and physical opposites … the thing we can’t talk about, the thing we consciously notice … is why it’s attracted so many people.”

Haberer continued, “We can say that the suspect was like the Big Bad Wolf slaughtering Little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother. Or that Kupfer, for many, was like a princess, with a dark monster emerging to kill an innocent young girl. That’s why this case has attracted so much attention. The media gets that, that’s why they’re here.”

He cautioned the jurors not to let passion get in the way of doing their job, which is to uphold the law. This was not, he insisted, a case of first-degree murder with special circumstances. It was only second-degree murder: “The attack was patently spontaneous, not planned.”

As for the prosecution’s contention that the defendant hated women and had been hunting for a lone female to kill? Haberer insisted that Smith was just “a homeless, jobless drifter” hungering for “a connection to society.... The dude had nowhere to go, he just had to pass his days like all folks living on the margin of society. Yes, it’s weird.... Vagrants like him do weird stuff sometimes.”

Smith might have been trying to flirt with Brianna, Haberer suggested, because “she was pretty and kind.... The suspect wasn’t waiting to murder her, but rather to sustain conversation with a friendly, attractive woman.” And when Smith sensed Brianna was done with him and wanted him to leave, “He went into beast mode.... He transcended human rationality, something in him snapped.... This guy has impulse-control issues.”

Haberer said, “Why did he kill her? I don’t know. The killer doesn’t know either. He can’t think in a linear fashion. He’s not working on all cylinders.... This was an animal acting like an animal.”

The defense attorney ended his closing by telling the jury Smith wasn’t smart enough to pre-meditate a murder. “We’re not talking about Hannibal Lecter levels of criminal genius here.... Why would he leave his knife and sheath with DNA behind? Why would he forget to take the voice recording?… The decision to attack Brianna Kupfer happened in an instant. To say that the perpetrator engaged in something like reflective contemplation is ludicrous.”

During his final remarks to the jury, prosecutor Balian held up a fillet knife similar to the one that was used on Brianna. “He used her kindness against her, then he slayed her,” he said.

He recounted the evidence against Smith, insisting the special-circumstance charge was warranted, that Brianna Kupfer had been ambushed. “This is first-degree murder because it was willful, deliberate and premeditated.... If you’re going to do what’s fair, if you’re going to do what’s just, you will find Smith guilty of murder.”

It took the 12-member jury, six men and six women, a little over an hour of deliberation to reach a verdict: guilty of first-degree murder, special circumstances upheld. Smith did not react. He and his attorney whispered to one another. The jurors were dismissed.

But this was not the end of the trial; there was one more phase to come. Because Shawn Smith pleaded not guilty by reason of insanity, the judge had to issue a ruling on whether or not he was legally sane at the time he killed Brianna. If Judge Escobedo determined Smith was sane, he most likely would end up in prison for life with no parole. But if she ruled he was insane, Smith would be sent to a mental-health facility; from that point, if he was deemed to no longer be a threat to himself or the public, he would be eligible for release.

The judge set the date to hear arguments for her decision: October 2, 2024.

Mikaela Kupfer had a change of heart. Despite her revulsion at seeing Smith in person, she decided she would show up in court after all, and she began writing a victim’s impact statement she hoped would help convince the judge that her sister’s killer should never be free again.

A Catalyst for Change

On the final day of Smith’s trial, the courtroom was full again, an air of anticipation brewing. Mikaela Kupfer arrived with her family. “It’s kind of like an out-of-body experience,” she says. “I didn’t think I would be able to look at him. But I had no choice.”

Mikaela knew there would be testimony about Smith’s sanity before she would be able to deliver her victim’s impact statement. But two things happened that morning that she wasn’t expecting.

Prosecutor Balian played another audiotape, not from the recorder Smith left behind but from phone calls Smith made in jail to someone he called a cousin:

Smith: All I got to do is play crazy. And then they’ll drop and dismiss the case that way.

Cousin: You heard ’em say your DNA evidence is everywhere at the murder scene.

Smith: They’re letting me out on the insanity plea, bro. All I got to do is just go to the hospital and play retarded. So basically, I’ll be like five years in the state hospital, instead of [prison].

Cousin: How much time they gonna give you?

Smith: Ni**er, zero time. Insanity plea.

The second unexpected part of these proceedings was what Mikaela learned when the judge read from the medical reports the prosecution and defense submitted to the court regarding Smith’s sanity. Smith said he was raised by his mom, a drug addict who abused him; his dad was in prison. Smith also told the doctors that he and his siblings spent time in foster care, where they were all physically and sexually abused. He had repeatedly checked himself into mental-health facilities and had taken medications they prescribed.

Mikaela didn’t want to care about any of this, but she did pause to reflect. “It doesn’t excuse anything. But it does make you think. We are a product of the people that raise us. And logically, even if he had been raised in a better situation, I’m sure he still could have turned out to be a destructive, bad person. But I’d like to believe that being raised in a loving family could have made a difference.”

Usually, doctors hired by opposing counsel help the attorney who retained them to make their case. However, this time both doctors reached the same conclusion: Smith was sane when he killed Brianna. Yes, he suffered from some mental disorders such as mood instability and antisocial behavior, but that didn’t qualify as mentally insane.

It was time now for Brianna’s family and friends to read their victim-impact statements. Lori and Todd Kupfer spoke first, of their deep sense of loss and unending grief. One of their sons read from a statement both brothers had written. He said their foursome, now only three, were “heartbroken siblings.” He questioned why Smith, a repeat criminal offender who had been in mental-health facilities and jails, had never been dealt with effectively. And finally, he said he hoped that his sister’s death could be a catalyst for change.

Mikaela described her sister as an adventurer, a knowledge seeker, and “the most precious person in my life.” She implored the judge to put Smith behind bars forever. “Brianna lost her life, her dreams, her future because of this monster,” Mikaela said. “It would be a tragedy to let evil like this ever be free.”

Judge Escobedo was ready to rule. She declared that Shawn Laval Smith was, in fact, sane when he killed Brianna Kupfer, and sentenced him to life in prison without the possibility of parole.

Out in the hallway, Lori and Todd Kupfer spoke to reporters, saying they felt some relief. But as Lori noted, “It’s not justice. Justice will never be served because our daughter’s not alive.... But it will protect the public.”

After the trial, one of the doctors who examined Smith and did not wish to be named spoke about how crucial it is that society find a new way to deal with the Shawn Smiths of the world. “What is happening now is not working,” he said. “Letting people wander the streets is abusive. Shuffling them between prisons, emergency rooms and psych wards isn’t working. They’re not getting better.”

Mikaela started her first job as a public-school teacher this year. She will soon turn 25; Brianna died at 24. “You should never become older than your older sibling,” Mikaela says.

The Kupfers have kept Brianna’s childhood bedroom as she left it. They spend a lot of time in there, as do the family dog and cat. People have told the Kupfers they’re strong. “I have no choice,” Mikaela says. “I need to live my life because she can’t.”

Brianna’s siblings are hoping someday to take her sketches and design ideas and turn them into a product line, to keep her memory alive. Lori and Todd Kupfer have started a foundation in honor of their daughter, funding efforts to help keep young women safe and helping to create programs and legislation that would ensure all retail businesses have safety protocols in place for their employees.

Mikaela did find an unexpected source of comfort recently, during a group-therapy session for people who have lost loved ones. “I remember this lady said her daughter, who had passed away, came to her in a dream and told her the purpose of life is to learn to love.”

She knows her sister felt that way, too. Even as she fought for her life, Brianna tried to assuage her killer by saying, “I can help you.” With those final words, Mikaela says, “Brianna was showing her true, good self. She wanted to believe that people were good. But the reality is bad people exist in this world.”

Mikaela has been working harder to instill empathy in her young students. “Empathy is not something you automatically develop; it’s something that you have to be taught,” she says. “I would rather create a bunch of good human beings with good character and empathy. That’s more important to me than anything else I could teach in the classroom.”

Barbara Schroeder is the Emmy Award–winning author of Beverly Hills Confidential: A Century of Stars, Scandals and Murder, host of the podcast Bad, Bad Thing, and writer-director of Evil Genius