2 Months After He Married A GOLD DIGGER, She Set Him Up To Get His Wealth, But She VANISHED | HO

A Marriage That Lasted 62 Days

On June 5, 2024, in Atlanta, Georgia, a 34-year-old woman named Jade Montgomery was expected to arrive somewhere the following morning.

She never did.

By the time her body was found later that evening in a parking garage near Lennox Square Mall, investigators were certain of one thing:
this was not a robbery, and it was not random.

Whoever killed her knew exactly who she was.

They also knew what she knew.

Jade Montgomery had been married for just 62 days.

To the public, the marriage appeared exclusive, affluent, and enviable. Behind closed doors, it was governed by contracts, surveillance, psychological maneuvering, and a single clause that would later become the motive for murder.

This is not a story about a marriage gone wrong.

It is a story about control, leverage, and what happens when love is used as a legal trap — and someone decides they would rather destroy the board than lose the game.

The Man Who Never Lost Control

Preston Rollins was born in 1967 and raised in West Baltimore, in a neighborhood where survival required silence and structure.

His mother worked hospital cleaning shifts by day and pressed shirts at night. His father disappeared before Preston turned eight. By adolescence, Preston learned that attention brought danger, and that control — even minimal — was safety.

By 17, he was working construction.
By 25, he flipped his first duplex.
By 30, his name was on multiple properties.

By 50, Preston Rollins owned 14 apartment complexes across metro Atlanta, valued collectively at more than $25 million.

He lived quietly. No flashy cars. No social media presence. No public excess.

Those who worked with him described him as methodical, private, and unforgiving about boundaries. Once Preston cut someone off, the relationship was over.

Control was not a personality trait.
It was a system.

The First Wife, the First Loss

Preston’s first marriage, to Rochelle Rollins, appeared stable and grounded.

Rochelle was a school administrator — calm, disciplined, and uninterested in luxury. Friends later said she was the anchor that slowed Preston down during the most volatile years of his business growth.

That stability ended suddenly.

One afternoon, Rochelle collapsed in their laundry room. Paramedics pronounced her dead at 3:42 p.m. — the cause listed as a massive stroke.

There were no warning signs. No goodbye.

Preston was widowed for over ten years.

He dated rarely, quietly, and without emotional investment. No repeats. No attachments. No loss of leverage.

Until Jade.

The Woman Who Knew How to Enter Power Without Making Noise

Jade Montgomery was raised in Augusta, Georgia.
Her mother was a school nurse.
Her father ran a barbershop.

She didn’t grow up wealthy — but she grew up observant.

By her early 30s, Jade was managing luxury weddings and private events for Atlanta’s elite. Her clients wanted discretion, precision, and silence — and Jade delivered.

She was not loud.
She was not flashy.
She was strategic.

People trusted her because she never asked for attention.

How They Met

They met on-site.

One of Preston’s Midtown properties had been converted into a high-end event venue. Jade was overseeing a major wedding installation when Preston arrived to inspect a lighting issue.

She didn’t introduce herself.

She handed him the floor plan, identified the problem, instructed the technician, and walked away.

Preston noticed.

Weeks later, they crossed paths again. This time, the conversation extended beyond logistics. Then dinner. Then regular contact.

There were no public photos. No announcements. No digital footprint.

Discretion appealed to both of them.

Marriage Without Romance

Six months into the relationship, Preston brought up marriage.

There was no proposal.

No ring.

No kneeling.

One morning, over coffee, he said:
“If we’re going to do this, we do it clean.”

Jade nodded.
“Clean is good.”

The lawyers followed.

The Clause That Changed Everything

Preston’s prenuptial agreement was standard for high-net-worth marriages:
full asset separation, no claims to real estate, no access to liquid investments.

Then Jade’s attorneys returned the document with one added clause, buried near the end:

If Preston Rollins committed adultery during the marriage — proven through verifiable documentation — Jade Montgomery would be entitled to 50% of his entire estate, immediately payable, without dispute.

No timeline.
No cap.
No appeal.

Preston’s lead attorney warned him.

“It’s enforceable the day after the wedding,” he said.
“There’s no protection if it’s a setup.”

Preston signed anyway.

“I’m not signing because I expect to need it,” he said.
“I’m signing because I won’t.”

The wedding date was set three weeks later.

A Wedding That Felt Like a Performance

The ceremony took place on April 8, 2024.

Only 24 guests.

No livestream.
No public photographers.

White orchids.
Soft music.
Perfect staging.

Jade wore a minimalist silk gown.
Preston wore black.

To guests, it looked intimate.
To staff, it felt… off.

One vendor recalled Jade didn’t request a single touch-up. Another noticed she focused more on camera angles than affection. A caterer later claimed Jade stood alone in the garden after the ceremony, staring toward the tree line.

No honeymoon followed.

Instead, Jade began restructuring the house.

The Shift Inside the House

Jade didn’t unpack into the master bedroom.

She converted a guest room. Replaced rugs. Installed custom shelving. Ordered weekly white tulips — never arranged them herself.

They rarely ate together.

They never shared a bed.

Publicly, Jade dazzled Preston’s business circle. Privately, she remained distant.

By the fifth week, something changed.

Surveillance, Therapy, and a Third Woman

Jade began checking Preston’s schedule. Asking about names. Repeating questions.

Without confronting him, she installed a tracking application on his phone.

When Preston discovered it, he didn’t explode.

He waited.

That same period, Jade introduced Camille Latimore — described as a “therapist” specializing in elite marriages.

Camille arrived with a binder labeled:
Executive Marriages: Emotional Presence & Performance.

Sessions followed.

Camille spoke. Preston listened.

And Jade watched.

The Setup

On June 1, 2024, Jade told Preston she was leaving for a bridal shower in Charleston.

She kissed his cheek.

She never went.

Instead, she arranged the final piece.

At 7:12 a.m., a hidden camera embedded in a bedroom lamp activated.

At 4:07 p.m., Camille arrived.

At 4:14 p.m., Jade opened the bedroom door.

She said nothing.

She recorded everything.

Then she left.

The Legal Strike

By 7:39 p.m., Jade delivered the footage to her attorney.

By 8:22 p.m., she filed for divorce.

Under the prenup, she was entitled to $12.6 million, immediately.

Executed.

Clean.

What Broke First?

Preston said nothing.

But those close to him noticed the shift.

He stopped attending meetings. Began reviewing security footage obsessively. Asked unusual questions about tracking people who didn’t want to be found.

Meanwhile, Jade changed numbers, rotated cars, and carried pepper spray even at home.

To her cousin, she said quietly:

“If something happens to me, it won’t be an accident.”

Four days later, she was dead.

At 6:47 p.m., surveillance cameras inside the South Garage at Lennox Square Mall captured Jade Montgomery walking alone toward her parked Audi.

She carried two shopping bags.
Her phone was in her hand.
Her pace was calm.

To anyone watching casually, she looked like another professional woman finishing an ordinary errand. But investigators would later learn that Jade was doing something deliberate that evening: staying visible.

She had altered her routine since filing for divorce. She avoided isolation. She rotated locations. She kept moving.

What she did not know was that her husband had already crossed a line from litigation into violence.

The Encounter

A man in a janitorial uniform approached her near the vehicle. The uniform bore no registered company logo. He carried a maintenance cart with no visible tools.

He did not run.
He did not hesitate.

When Jade turned and saw the weapon, she did not scream.

According to audio later recovered, her voice was calm when she asked a single question:

“Who sent you?”

The answer was immediate.

“Preston Rollins.”

A single gunshot followed.

Jade collapsed between the rows of vehicles. The attacker walked away calmly, leaving the garage without drawing attention. Witnesses would not register the event as a shooting for several minutes.

By the time police arrived, Jade Montgomery was already deceased.

What the Killer Didn’t Know

What the attacker never noticed — and what would later define the case — was what Jade had been wearing.

Three weeks earlier, Jade had purchased designer prescription glasses embedded with a micro HD camera and directional microphone. The device stored footage locally in rolling loops and did not rely on cloud upload.

It captured:

The shooter’s face

His voice

The weapon

Partial vehicle details

And most critically, the verbal admission of who ordered the hit

The glasses fell behind Jade’s shoulder during the collapse. They were collected as personal effects and placed into evidence without immediate inspection.

For two days, the footage sat unnoticed.

The Evidence That Spoke for the Dead

During a routine evidence review, a technician powered on the glasses.

What played back changed the investigation instantly.

The lead detective later described the room as “silent in a way that only happens when certainty arrives.”

This was not circumstantial evidence.
This was not inference.

It was a confession — captured by the victim herself.

Within hours, prosecutors requested an emergency arrest warrant for Preston Rollins.

A Man Already Gone

By the time law enforcement reached Preston’s North Atlanta estate, the house was empty.

Security feeds were looping.
The safe was open and cleared.
His primary phone was powered down.
His passport was missing.

A note sat on the kitchen counter:

“Do not enter. Property under legal lock.”

Investigators concluded Preston had already fled — likely hours before Jade’s glasses were reviewed.

What followed was a multi-state manhunt involving Georgia authorities, the FBI, and federal marshals.

The Man Who Pulled the Trigger

The breakthrough came five days later.

Police apprehended Marlon Tate, a 41-year-old with prior convictions, sleeping in a stolen landscaping van in Griffin, Georgia.

When detectives played the garage footage, Tate did not deny it.

He asked for water.

Then he said:

“It wasn’t my idea.”

The Confession

In exchange for a reduced sentence, Tate gave a full statement.

He said Preston Rollins contacted him directly, offering $70,000 in cash, paid in non-sequential bills, handed over in a location tied to one of Preston’s older properties.

According to Tate, Preston described Jade as:

“A setup”

“A thief”

“A problem that needed to be handled quietly”

Tate had no prior connection to Jade. No knowledge of the prenup. No personal motive.

Prosecutors would later argue this was not a long-planned hit, but a reactive crime — executed by a man facing public humiliation, financial loss, and exposure.

Capture at the Border

On July 19, 2024, a man traveling under the name Anthony Voss attempted to cross into Mexico near Santa Cruz.

His documents appeared valid.

His fingerprints did not.

When officers searched the vehicle, they found burner phones and a printed Baja route map.

As agents handcuffed him, he reportedly muttered:

“It wasn’t supposed to happen this fast.”

The man was Preston Rollins.

The Trial

The trial began on October 1, 2024, inside the Fulton County Justice Center.

The defense argued:

The smart-glasses footage had been manipulated

Tate’s confession was coerced

Preston had been psychologically provoked

The prosecution responded with chronology, restraint, and evidence.

They played the raw, unedited garage footage.

They played Tate’s confession.

They established motive, payment, timing, and flight.

No theatrics.

Just proof.

Verdict and Sentence

After 13 hours of deliberation, the jury returned its verdict:

Guilty of conspiracy to commit murder

Guilty of first-degree premeditated homicide

On October 15, 2024, Preston Rollins was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole.

The judge called the crime “cold, deliberate, and rooted in ego.”

Preston offered one final statement:

“You’ve told your story. Now live with it.”

Aftermath

Rollins Holdings collapsed.
Properties were liquidated.
Charitable ties were severed.

Jade Montgomery’s estate passed to her nephew.

Her mother moved away and declined interviews.

In early 2025, Georgia lawmakers introduced legislation addressing prenup clauses tied to infidelity, citing the case as evidence that financial leverage can escalate into violence.

What This Case Leaves Behind

Some still argue Jade orchestrated her own downfall.

Others believe she saw the danger and prepared for it.

What cannot be disputed is this:

She did not vanish silently.

She left evidence.

She left truth.

And she ensured that even in death, the man who ordered her killing would not escape accountability.

A Final Question

When love becomes a contract,
when marriage becomes leverage,
and when pride outweighs consequence —

Who truly loses?

The woman who planned her exit?
Or the man who chose murder over loss?