As soon as I don’t see him right here, my heart goes—

“I just want to understand.”

“Well, I know. So do I.”

“I don’t—”

“Nobody understands.”

“No, I know. I can’t either.”

None of it all defies.

Prologue: When Is a Murder Not a Murder?
Hey you. And welcome.

My name is Mike, and in this video we are asking a very simple question. Ironically enough, because this is a very twisting story.

When is a murder not a murder?

When it’s an accident, of course.

Wink wink.

Allegedly.

Because as accidents go, this one would even make me—the circus freak—say: “Is it, though?”

And this story doesn’t involve just one tragic death. Accident? Murder? Question mark.

It also involves another one.

Hired hitman and all.

Look forward to that.

From being a basketball millionaire to being broke and homeless, I’ll have the tragic story of a Nashville legend coming up at 6:30.

But first? The Solomon family.

Part One: The Family That Had Everything
Franklin is a smallish city just south of Nashville, Tennessee.

But hold on to it.

These days, anybody who’s anybody is moving to Franklin. You want to be seen? You better be seen in Franklin. Listen up—it’s the hottest ticket in the state.

But something very cold was happening in Franklin on April 11th, 2025.

And sure, don’t these sort of things always happen in the most mundane, boring, humdrum, soulless kind of places?

It happened in a mall.

Take a new look at Cool Springs Galleria, where a gorgeous renovation is now complete. The fabulous new amenities will have you feeling like you’ve never left home.

Right smack dab beside the I-65 lies Cool Springs Galleria. A dirty big mall. It has a Cheesecake Factory, a Lego store, a Dillard’s, a Barnes & Noble, a Pottery Barn.

Oh me, oh my.

And on the northern side? A Macy’s. And across the parking lot? A Chili’s.

Yum, yum.

It was in that section of the parking lot—this overcast April day—that the place was busy enough. A Friday, right before Easter. People doing their shopping for the weekend. Weekend starts early. Getting their last-minute bits and bobs. Doing their errands.

But one woman pulled into that parking lot with none of those things on her mind.

She pulled in breathing fast. Stomach in knots. Hands that just wouldn’t stop trembling.

Because she was going to do something pretty unthinkable to most people.

I mean, I hope it is. You never know. How do I know what you’re up to?

See, this woman pulling into the Cool Springs Galleria parking lot had a problem.

This problem had been ongoing for decades.

And in her mind, no matter what she did, this problem was not going away. Because no matter what she had already done to this point—and she had done a lot, it ain’t taking a stroll—she felt this was her final stop.

The problem in question?

The problem that had haunted her for decades was a man.

A man she believed had murdered their son.

Sexually assaulted their daughter.

And despite going to the police and trying to bring as much attention to this as possible, nothing was moving fast enough.

He was curdled milk.

He had to go.

So she decided to take matters into her own hands.

At 2:15 p.m., Angelia Solomon, 55 years of age, parked her car outside the JCPenney.

She stepped out. Scanned the lot. Walked two rows over to a car that was waiting for her.

Inside that car were two men.

In the back seat sat Shawn Atkins. Beside him, a man named Steve.

Angelia—or Angie, as she went by—walked up. With trembling hands, she opened the door and got into the front passenger seat.

Shawn told her as she did so: “Don’t turn around. Eyes forward. Don’t look at us.”

“You said the front seat. Don’t turn around. Perfect.”

Shawn and Angie spoke in that car for about forty-five minutes.

Planning a murder together.

“Well, what do you need from me?”

“You want him in prison where he belongs?”

“Those two choices in prison are ground. Let’s go.”

Steve had put Angie in contact with this Shawn. And Shawn was going to do this murder for Angie anyway she chose. It was her lucky day.

And to be killed? The target of this murder-for-hire was Angie’s ex.

Her ex-husband.

Aaron Solomon.

“You have any information like who is this guy? What’s his name?”

“Name is Aaron Solomon.”

“You want me to do what to him?”

“I want to do whatever. His own beautiful eighteen-year-old son. Out to a very remote location. Hit him over the head with the tools that people stand at the top of the door and watch him.”

“I got a few ideas.”

Angie told the men she worked as a pharmacist and didn’t have on-hand cash ready—the $5,000 they were asking to get the job done. But she could put up her car as collateral.

Get the job done and I’ll sort you out.

And in fact, Angie said: “If you get this job done and it doesn’t link back to me, I’ll double it. Ten grand for you in your pocket. How’s that sound?”

She told him she wouldn’t mind paying double if they got the murder done in a nice, clean way. Because upon Aaron’s death, that would trigger a trust fund for their daughter, Gracie Solomon.

And Aaron had a lot of that.

He had a lot of it.

“I ain’t running no charity. What do you mean you would like? Got life insurance on him or something? Something like that? About $5,000.”

“Yeah.”

She gave the hitman all the information they would need to find out where he worked, where he lived. Enough to—quote—”put him in the ground.”

She described in vivid detail a broken fence on his property that they could climb through to gain access to his house. She told him about the type of car he drove to and from work. His schedule. His route. Everything.

Angie spared no expense in this plan.

She was methodical.

And as time went on, she lightened up.

This was grandale timing, wasn’t it? Best news she’d heard in years.

“Oh, you’re just looking right. I mean, that’s a stupid question. There’s trust going both ways here. That’s why we’re sitting in the middle of the parking lot. The only contact we have is through Steve here. That’s all I want.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

“I’ll save that right there.”

She asked Shawn: “Are you mean?”

And he said: “I can be as mean as you want me to be.”

Which is probably quite mean.

“Are you mean? I can be mean. You want me to be mean?”

“Okay.”

Then Shawn had a question for Angie.

He was going to kill her ex-husband. And he said to her: “Do you want me to do it fast or do you want it to be slow?”

Angie didn’t have to beat around the bush. Didn’t have to think about that question at all.

Slow.

She wanted him to die slowly.

“So slow is better than quick?”

“Yes.”

“All right. He likes to oppress and likes to build power over. But I’m here for my daughter, my son.”

“All right. And you understand that I’m not going to see you again. That we’ll be going through Steve.”

“Okay.”

“And you understand that when you get out of this car this next time, that your ex-husband is going to be dead. He ain’t coming back.”

After talking for about forty-five minutes—planning the slow death of her ex-husband—Angie got out of the car and began walking toward her own car, parked just two rows away.

“I think we’re done here and you need to be on your way.”

“All right.”

But Angie never made it.

Police swarmed the parking lot. Angie was arrested. And she would be charged with solicitation to commit first-degree murder.

What Angie didn’t know—as she told all of this to the men she believed were going to kill her ex-husband—was that a concerned citizen had already told the police about what she was planning.

Shawn Atkins, the killer she was hiring?

He was an undercover cop. A fifteen-year veteran of the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation.

And Steve—the person who had put them in contact?

Steve was a friend of Angie’s.

Well, not anymore.

He was the concerned citizen who had tipped off the cops.

See, Angie had told Steve what she wanted a couple of weeks ago. And Steve called the cops.

Angie was later released on $250,000 bond and is currently under house arrest.

Booty.

To get to the entirety of the story, we have to go back a good few years.

To the death of Angie and Aaron’s son.

His name was Grant Solomon.

And we have to talk about the horrifying end to his life—which was one of, but not the, catalyst in this case.

Let’s go back.

Let’s begin at the beginning.

Let’s do it, babe.

Part Two: The Boy Who Couldn’t Escape
Grant Solomon was born June 13th, 2002, to Angie and Aaron Solomon.

Angie and Aaron had been married for only about a year by that point—after dating for only six weeks.

Sure.

Jesus, I don’t even trust my underwear after six weeks. Never mind being with somebody till death do you part—which coincidentally is what I also say to my underwear.

Angie, Aaron, and Grant all lived in Tennessee. Franklin. In fact, this story doesn’t take us far from there at all.

Four years after Grant was born—now in 2006—they welcomed another child.

Young Gracie Solomon.

The family lived in a pretty well-to-do area in Franklin. Angie worked as a pharmacist. And Aaron Solomon?

Guess what?

He was a news reporter with WSMV, your local Tennessee news station.

In fact, at one point it looked like he was even going to go national with ESPN. That never materialized. But still—this was a man with money, influence, and public trust.

And that’s important to note going forward.

Because no matter what happens, Aaron’s word is gospel.

In 2011, though, Aaron left the news. He went to work as a financial planner at Merrill Lynch.

Wow.

What a red flag that he’s going to be a [expletive].

Now, there’s going to be a fierce usage of allegedly in this case.

Because I run this channel by myself. It’s a one-man operation. And I don’t want to get sued. It’s not on my 2026 bingo card.

But [expletive] goes down in their marriage. Big time.

In 2008, Angie—allegedly, here we go—found out that Aaron couldn’t get enough of sex workers. That was all he thought about. He loved cheating on his wife.

And also—just another allegedly, just to cover myself—he was grooming underage girls online.

I mean.

This kind of guy?

In for a penny.

That does wonders for their marriage, as you can imagine.

After Angie confronts Aaron about this and he admits it, he isn’t like: “Oh, I’ll try and do better, babe. I’m so sorry, babe.”

No.

He’s like: “You’re not leaving me. Not today. Not ever.”

He becomes more and more controlling of Angie. She starts going to therapy to deal with their crumbling marriage. He’s like: “Sure, I may as well pop along with you.”

She goes to hairdressing appointments. He’s standing right beside her while she’s getting the snip-snip.

The way Angie tells it, he never leaves her alone.

In fact, it would be rumored—and we’re in rumor territory, folks—the reason he left WSMV wasn’t so much that he left. He was pushed out. Because he was allegedly involved in a sex trafficking ring, and obscene materials were found on his work computer.

So he got the boot a bit.

But a guy like this? He was one of the old boys. So none of this ever came out. They all kind of hush-hush covered it up.

Again, he’s a news reporter. People like him. He’s got influence. He’s got connections.

Over time, Aaron’s behavior would become more and more erratic—especially when he got the cha-ching from a dead aunt.

She had a multi-million dollar trust fund just there for old Aaron. It wouldn’t kick in until about 2013, but he was getting like a hundred grand a month.

And that just—

Well, he’s a free dog now.

He’s off the leash.

For some reason—just a by-the-by—around this time when he started getting a lot of money from his dead aunt, he also at his work at Merrill Lynch forged a $1,000 check from the school his kids were attending. Grace Christian Academy.

He forged somebody’s name—an employee at that school. Forged their name and made out a $1,000 check to himself.

It’s very odd.

Crazy is as crazy does, I suppose.

Ain’t that just the way?

Moving on.

Because then darker allegations would come out.

The hinge: In 2013, little Gracie told her mother she didn’t want her dad to give her any more baths.

“I don’t want dad to bathe me ever again.”

She was a very small child at this point.

Because he touches her.

And—you know what I mean. You get it.

Angie confronted Aaron about this. “What the [expletive]?”

And Aaron said: “You know what? I actually do do it. But if you try and take the kids away from me, you’re never going to see them again.”

Talk about horrifying.

What kind of psychopath says: “You’re absolutely right. I am abusing the kids. And guess what? You can’t do a thing about it. Because if you do, I’ll call you crazy and take the kids away. And they’ll believe me, because guess what? I was on TV.”

That sounds mad.

But that’s exactly what happened.

Things were messed up.

Aaron would tell anybody who listened that Angie was mentally ill and the agitator. One time, police were called to the house for a domestic. Of course, it was all Angie—according to him.

Then in May of 2013, Aaron allegedly tried to strangle Angie to death with the cord of a hairdryer.

Young Grant allegedly witnessed all of this.

But of course, Aaron’s side of the story was: “She was choking herself. I rushed her to the hospital, saving her life. She did it to herself, lads. She’s mad.”

The following day, Aaron had Angie involuntarily hospitalized for a good twenty-four hours.

Of course saying: “She’s dangerous. A danger to me, to the kids, to herself.”

Doctors found that Angie had zero self-harm ideation. Nor any history of it. They did not believe she had attempted anything.

And they even advised Angie: “You should get a restraining order. Because we think you didn’t do this to yourself. We think your man did it to you. We believe you.”

Basically, that’s what they were saying.

And she got that restraining order.

However.

Aaron kept his promise. He took the kids.

When Angie got home from the hospital, the house was completely empty.

Her worst fears had come true. She was married to a controlling, vindictive, manipulative monster who would keep his word if she got a toe out of line.

This was after admitting to abusing at least their daughter.

And then he also allegedly tried to murder her.

Angie would report this to the police—that her kids had been stolen. And the police would initially take this very seriously. This poor mother.

Until one of the higher-ups got a call from Aaron.

Got a call from good old Aaron.

And the case was completely dropped.

Because sure. He’s just one of the lads. Never mind his wife. She’s mental. He told me so.

Angie would revoke the restraining order, hoping this would at least bring her kids back.

She would also learn that Aaron himself had filed for divorce and also filed a restraining order against her—whom he claimed was mentally unwell.

This is truly Micah Miller all over again.

Same story. Control. Manipulation. Gaslighting. Telling everybody a person is insane until you start to wonder if they truly believe they are insane.

One night, Aaron brought the kids home.

Both Grant and Gracie wanted their mama. Remember: Gracie is being abused—allegedly—by her dad.

He brings them home. He says: “We can be a big happy family again as long as you do exactly what I tell you to do. If you behave, we will stay.”

And Angie said yes.

Then at 5:00 a.m. the next day, Aaron took the kids. Sneaked them into the car. Drove off.

Literally just—I don’t know why he did it. Just to completely mess with her head.

While they were driving off, Grant tried to jump. Young Grant, who was a child at this stage, probably eleven or twelve years old. He tried to jump out of a moving car.

Aaron grabbed him.

And Gracie would say he grabbed him so tight she thought he broke his wrists.

The divorce proceedings then began.

Aaron—what a charming fellow—somehow managed to get Angie’s own father to testify against her.

What a [expletive].

And you’ll like this, right? At the time the divorce was going on, Aaron’s attorney just so happened to donate like $1,000 to the judge who would be overseeing their divorce proceedings.

Wow.

What a great time to give money to the judge.

The money was for the judge’s reelection campaign, supposedly. The judge was also running unopposed.

Make of that what you will, folks.

All during this time, little Gracie would FaceTime her mom. A little girl whose eyes looked like this. Who FaceTimed showing her mom bruises from her dad assaulting her.

And no one believed her.

Nor her mom.

Aaron even had Angie thrown in jail to shut her up, claiming she wasn’t paying child support.

Over the next few years, Aaron basically had complete control over Angie, Grant, and Gracie’s lives. Angie complied with whatever he said, whatever his demands—not because she believed him or thought he was any sort of good dad, or that she even gave up.

But because complying with his demands was the only way she could see and be with her children.

However.

All this time, Grant was doing whatever he could to get the word out. To speak to whomever he could about getting himself and his sister out and away from their dad.

Eventually, around 2018, the kids would successfully be able to leave their dad and go live with their mom.

Grant was extremely proactive in that. He was very protective of his sister—to the point he was even due to testify about Aaron sexually abusing Gracie.

And at the very same time, he was a standout star baseball player on his school’s team.

He was so good. He was being scouted and had a chance of at least a scholarship—perhaps even going professional.

That takes us all to July 20th, 2020.

Five weeks after Grant Solomon’s eighteenth birthday.

That day, Aaron had scheduled an appointment at a private baseball clinic right in Gallatin, which is about an hour from Franklin.

Grant had talent. Division One teams were looking at him, scouting him. So Grant would go to this private baseball clinic, put on a good show for tape and scouts and all that sort of thing. He showed a lot of promise and wanted to make the most of it.

This seemed like a good opportunity.

That would also be the first time in a couple of years—about two years—that Grant would actually be alone with his dad.

They had kind of been through a lot at this stage. He and Gracie were both living with their mom, Angie. They had very irregular contact with Aaron.

I don’t think he wanted to see his dad.

But this was the sort of opportunity for his future that you couldn’t really turn down.

Now, this particular Monday summer morning, Grant was in fact just getting over COVID. He’d had a fierce dose of it. In fact, on the Friday before this Monday, he’d had X-rays on his chest because doctors thought he might have pneumonia, if you can believe it.

He probably wasn’t in tip-top shape for this kind of sports tryout.

He didn’t even want to go. Not then, anyway.

And he said: “If we’re gonna go do it, can we do it on Monday afternoon? Not first thing Monday morning?”

Aaron insisted, though.

Has to be. No other time. Has to be that morning.

When Grant arrived at the parking lot in his truck that Monday morning, he found—to his surprise—his dad, Aaron, was already there waiting for him.

Then this happened.

Or at least, this is what Aaron says happened.

Aaron was sitting in his car in the driver’s seat. Grant pulled up right beside him in his white Toyota truck and got out to retrieve some baseball bats and baseball equipment from the bed of his truck.

Let me just read out from the statement what Aaron says happened next:

“I look down to check a work email, and the next thing I know, I hear and see the truck rolling backwards into the ditch. I get out of my car to try and find my son and saw that he was trapped underneath the truck and immediately called 911.”

Here is that 911 call.

“My son’s truck backed over him and it’s rolled over him and dragged him into the ditch and it’s on top of him. He’s trapped under the truck. I—yeah, he—somehow it dragged him underneath it. Yes, my son is under it. I’m trying to—no, I’m calling 911.”

“Okay. What’s your name?”

“Oh my god. My name is Aaron Solomon. Oh my god. This is not good.”

“Is he awake?”

“Oh, please hurry. I don’t—no, I don’t think so. He’s not alert, right? No, he’s out and he’s trapped. I got three guys here and he’s trapped under the truck.”

“Okay. Can you check and see if he’s breathing?”

“I—somebody’s telling me that he’s coming to.”

“Okay.”

“He is waking up. Trying to keep him still.”

“So he is—”

“Well, he can’t—yeah, he can’t move. I don’t think he can move. Somebody talked to him.”

The main thing about that call—and you can sort of guess because it sounds bad—is that Aaron does not go down to check on his son, who’s down there in that ditch under a truck, dying.

There are no other witnesses to this crash. There are no cameras showing it either.

So Aaron’s just standing there on the phone.

Oh Jesus, my son. He’s about to die.

He’s standing on the hill at the top of the ditch, just kind of looking down at him.

You can see that the truck rolled backwards. Now, the parking lot the truck had been on was sloped. So allegedly, the truck rolled backwards over the hill of the ditch, down into the rocky ditch, and then back up again.

Then Aaron said he could see Grant’s head and shoulders sticking out from underneath the front of the truck.

Already the positioning is unusual.

That 911 call—it’s so weird. He’s telling these people—you can hear him like talking to other people on the call. Oh jeez. Oh shucks. Oh my. Oh my.

Not sure who those people on the call actually are.

The only witnesses who would come forward and give a statement to the police were inside the clinic place they were going to. They said they only came out of the building after they heard the sirens of the EMTs racing to the area.

They did not see the crash.

“When I came out, I didn’t even know what was going on. What I noticed was I was walking by the door. The door is open right now and just cars are parked sideways. As you can see, people kind of parked vertically. Obviously. And I’m like—dude, why aren’t people parking like this? What’s going on? And then I came out and the truck was already on him and Grant’s dad was over there on the phone, I guess, calling the paramedics.”

“Truck was already down in the ditch. You saw Aaron Solomon where—kind of in the parking lot?”

“Like on the edge of the grass right there. Literally looking. And he’s on the phone.”

You can hear what sounds like him talking to other people.

No idea who they are.

Police would say—and EMTs would say—that when they arrived, Aaron was by himself.

Sadly, Grant later passed away at the hospital.

A good kid with a bright future ahead of him. A scene that made zero sense. With a man who is an alleged predator.

And all in all, the police would determine the incident to be a horrifying accident.

Move on, folks. Nothing to see here.

Wink wink.

Part Three: The Funeral That Changed Nothing
Grant’s funeral would be heavily attended.

An extremely tragic incident for somebody who had so much going for them. Who was by all accounts a stand-up guy. A great brother. A great son.

And then at the funeral, you have—

Whatever this is.

“For those that may not know, I’m Grant’s dad. Before I begin, I have to say a huge thank you to everyone who’s here, who may be watching, who has reached out via social media, calls, text. The outpouring of prayers and support has been overwhelmingly, indescribably amazing. Grant, I will always love you. I’m proud to be your dad, and I can’t wait to play catch again with you on that big field of dreams in the sky.”

“Monday morning around 8:45, something happens right beside me that is such a blink-of-the-eye, bizarre, fluky, tragic, unexplainable accident that takes Grant’s spirit from this earth. And the only way I can rationalize it in my mind is it’s a godly thing.”

Then things get even stranger.

If you can believe it.

Grant’s injuries were not consistent with what Aaron says happened to him—which was being dragged across a parking lot, up a grassy knoll, down into a steep rocky ditch, then back up the ditch.

That makes no sense already.

What am I talking about? I don’t even know.

Namely, the injuries that were found on Grant’s body: a bruised tibia, a blow to the jaw, and what was described as a fatal blow to the back of the head.

Not—as you might be asking—cuts or scratches from being dragged across concrete.

He also didn’t seem to have any burn marks. The undercarriage of his Toyota truck would have been red hot. He had driven it for an hour just seconds before. The engine would have been extremely hot.

And he was cramped. His head and shoulders, as Aaron said, visible from the front of the truck.

Head and shoulders are visible.

But if the car had rolled backwards, shouldn’t his feet be visible?

The hinge: If my phone is the car and this is Aaron—if it hit him as it rolled backwards, wouldn’t his feet be in front of it?

Doesn’t really make much sense.

Even the grass in front of the truck—remember, it rolled backwards—doesn’t look like it dragged a six-foot-three man through it.

His socks and shoes were given to Angie. Completely spotless.

Weird again—if he was dragged feet first.

Grant’s glasses were also found by the sidewalk outside the parking lot. Not in the parking lot.

Grant needed his glasses. All the pictures you find of Grant, he’s wearing them. He needed them to see. He needed them to drive.

So would they not have been on him?

Why would they be on the sidewalk?

Why would his glasses be on the sidewalk, folks?

What’s going on?

Am I losing my mind?

Grant’s phone also mysteriously disappeared after the incident—later, incredibly, believed to be in the possession of a woman named Holly Thompson.

“Good afternoon.”

Host at WSMV. Your local news station.

See, Grant’s girlfriend had access to his Life360 so she could track where he was. And Grant’s Life360 showed his phone was in Holly Thompson’s house.

So Grant’s girlfriend goes to Aaron and says: “That’s kind of weird. Why is Grant’s phone—Grant, who’s just been killed, murdered in this suspicious accident—now in a TV presenter’s house? That’s mad, isn’t it?”

She says that to Aaron.

And Aaron says: “Don’t worry about it. All sorted out. Sure, I used to work with her.”

Then Aaron comes forward and says: “Oh no, Grant’s phone. It was actually found by a good Samaritan who just found it on the side of the road. After the accident scene was cleared Monday, a man was looking around the scene and found Grant’s cell phone, his GCA baseball hat, and what’s left of the sports goggles he was wearing.”

“What happened to Grant Monday has affected him so deeply that he’s a believer now.”

How would Grant’s phone even leave his possession?

It makes—folks, I don’t know. I think it makes no sense.

But I’m just putting it out there.

One aluminum baseball bat was found to be missing from Grant’s truck. That’s never been found.

And finally—the weirdest thing. Well, not finally, because there are a few things. But one of the weirdest things:

There was no appointment for Grant or Aaron that day at the baseball clinic.

Nothing was booked. Nothing was on the books.

They had no reason to be there.

Aaron clearly lied to Grant to get him to meet him there.

And you’re probably thinking about the truck, right?

Had Aaron left it in neutral? Had he left it in reverse?

Well, no.

They found the truck to be in park. And the parking lot was sloped.

So did the parking brake slip? The parking brake slipped and the truck just rolled? Grant just got trapped and then dragged?

It’d be easy to check if that’s actually what happened. A mechanical failure with the truck.

Oh, yeah.

There was actually no investigation. And nobody checked.

In fact, there was barely any investigation into this entire scene. It was more or less written off as an accident the very day it all happened.

Now, it is very possible that the truck slipped and he got caught and dragged. The official narrative, folks, is what happened.

I mean, I would need to put on my conspiracy hat—but this ain’t much of a conspiracy, is it?

After all, that’s what happened famously to actor Anton Yelchin. He was in his Hollywood home. He went out to close the gate. The truck slipped out of park and crushed him against the gate.

But the fact that it wasn’t even checked?

Here’s a video Angie took of Aaron days after the accident.

“I just want to understand.”

“Well, I know. So do I.”

“I don’t—”

“Nobody understands.”

“No, I know. I can’t either.”

“It’s in park. It’s in park. I see right now I have the parking brake on. It’s a foot parking brake. So it’s not one that you pull up here.”

“Yeah.”

“So can you start it and then put it in drive and just—”

“Could you not see his head on that side when you come down the hill?”

“Not at the very beginning, because at first I’m not thinking worst-case scenario. At first when I got out of my car thinking, oh my gosh, and I look around the parking lot and I don’t see him. So I start coming down this hill, and first I’m looking through the windshield to see if he had hopped back in by chance. I don’t see him standing up out here. So then I’m like, well, maybe he got back in somehow. And I don’t—I look and I don’t see him in. And so I’m above the hill and this is the front end at the bottom of the ditch. And I look down and I see his red shirt and his head over here because he’s angled that way. So I know he wasn’t covered by wheels up front, neither his head nor his feet, but he wasn’t perfectly perpendicular. He was at a little bit of an angle.”

“Were his feet sticking out? I’m just asking questions that don’t matter, but were they sticking out over here or were they just—”

“Yeah, I mean, they had to be. They had to be because mine would be sticking out. I was more in the front of it. And I’m calling 911 immediately.”

Two things do not add up. They are not logical.

Number one: Grant did not have time to get all the way behind the pickup.

“No.”

“So when you put that car in drive, it starts rolling.”

“Heard it. It got to twenty miles per hour just like that.”

“Right. When you put that car in drive, it starts rolling immediately. You don’t have time to get out of the truck. When you put it in neutral, it takes off. The only position is park, and it stayed locked. The truck stayed still.”

“But the other concern that I have is if Grant was dragged underneath his truck, the grass is undisturbed. Why is there nothing but one rock with blood?”

Aaron also declined an autopsy to be done on Grant.

Yep.

And that was sort of it.

Aaron also took the truck that supposedly killed his son and was driving around in it. It was his truck now. And I guess there were no real mechanical failures with the truck, because he loved driving it.

Aaron was driving around the truck.

Even though the truck had been promised to Gracie. Angie and Gracie were begging for the truck.

Aaron said: “No, actually, this is my favorite truck now.”

The truck that killed his son. That could possibly have a fatal flaw in it.

And he drove it around.

Then later he would say the truck was totaled and nobody could get access to it. It was then later sold at a junkyard.

Angie found that truck—and it didn’t look too totaled. Then she had her own investigation done.

This is also something I haven’t been able to kind of confirm, but Angie would say that the truck’s black box—which tracks a lot of systems in the truck—would show that somebody had been sitting in the driver’s seat three seconds before it crashed.

If that’s true—who was in the truck?

Who was in the driver’s seat?

“I would also like to know if the next Tennessee Attorney General will facilitate an open investigation into the alleged murder of eighteen-year-old Grant Solomon.”

Aaron was allegedly the only witness to the accident. During his 911 phone call, he also said there were three men helping Grant. But the family claims none of those men have come forward or have ever been identified.

Emergency responders found Grant lying face-up on large rocks in a drainage ditch next to the parking lot of the facility. He was rushed to the hospital, but he died shortly from his injuries.

Medical reports say he died of a heart attack and head trauma.

 

 

 

Investigators ruled his death an accident and closed the case.

But Grant’s family says there wasn’t a proper investigation. No reconstruction of the scene. They didn’t do an autopsy.

Prosecutors responded, releasing this statement: “It’s been looked into and the investigation has been reopened before. There is no basis for a homicide charge or no criminal act here.”

The hinge: Do you think Aaron killed Grant?

“Yes.”

It was then in May of 2021 that Gracie released this video on YouTube titled “A Cry for Help”—exposing her dad and insinuating that he was involved in her brother’s death.

“My name is Gracie Solomon. I’m fourteen years old, and I’m here to tell my story. I just want to say before we get into any of this that it’s coming straight from me. It’s all me, and no one else has told me what to do. My brother died protecting me from my father, Aaron Solomon. My father’s a monster. It makes me want to vomit. I’ve been minimized. But now I’ve found my voice to be able to tell you that my father raped me, hurt me, and I’m not going to be a victim of this monster. He’s a rapist, he’s a molester, he’s a liar, and he’s a killer.”

“I hate my dad. I’m absolutely terrified of him for everything he has done to me, my brother, and my mom. I don’t want to call him my dad anymore. When I was at his house at night, I would sometimes feel like I couldn’t control my body, or I would get sleepy and wake up in my dad’s bed. One night, I woke up with rashes on my inner thighs. Both. And my privates also burn frequently. Dad is super manipulative and has manipulated so many people. He even tries to convince me that I’m being brainwashed by my mom and everything I remembered never happened.”

Gracie’s friend Anna also made a video backing up Gracie’s claims.

“Aaron Solomon was a danger to Grant and still is a danger to both Gracie and Angie.”

After this, Aaron filed a lawsuit against numerous individuals—including Angie and supporters—for defamation.

Gracie was not listed, interestingly enough.

So she didn’t defame him, even though she said all these things.

But no. He was again blaming the crazy mom. She was responsible for it all.

He lost that suit.

Following that, in 2024, two witnesses came forward who said they were at the—oh jeez—we forgot to mention this. We actually did witness what happened to Grant after all.

There were two construction workers who were there.

They said the day Grant died, they were driving on the highway past where Grant and Aaron were that morning.

Let me just read it out for you.

The two witnesses said they were driving northbound on Highway 109 in a work truck with a trailer in tow. As they neared the bypass, the men watched as a white Toyota truck barreled backwards through a sloped parking lot. Grant Solomon was moving alongside the truck on their driver’s side.

One witness saw Solomon’s white truck jump the curb. It flew into the air and came down hard. The truck pulled Grant Solomon under before landing abruptly in the ditch.

Both men rushed to the scene to provide aid then.

Okay.

Right.

Maybe Aaron is telling the truth. Maybe they were the guys Aaron was speaking to on the phone—because it does sound very clearly like he’s speaking to people, and you can hear their voices.

Then they left when the EMTs arrived. Never giving any kind of statement. Nothing.

Which is rather convenient, if you ask me. Because they never gave their names. They never gave any statement about being on scene at this freak accident.

From the call it sounds like they were right beside Grant. Aaron back up on the hill: “I don’t really want to see my son dying.”

They were right beside him. Checking on him. Calling up to Aaron saying the state Grant is in.

And then they left and were like: “Ah Jesus. That’s another job well done, lads. Sure, I’ll see you later.”

Never thinking of mentioning this.

And Aaron also never mentioned this in his statement.

It’s unusual, you might say.

Now, multiple people have tried to get the investigation into Grant’s death reopened—or well, just opened, actually, because there never was one done, to be fair.

But nada so far.

Don’t seem interested.

And all that takes us to spring of 2025, when Angie Solomon tried to hire a hitman to murder Aaron Solomon.

“So slow is better than quick?”

“Yes.”

“All right.”

Which—I mean, if all the things she says is true, and she says a lot of things—that he had been abusing their daughter for years, that Grant’s death ain’t no accident, and that he’d even tried to kill her and had gaslit everybody into thinking she’s insane—

Well, you can sort of see where she’s coming from.

Somebody might say.

I don’t know if I’d say that legally.

Can I say that?

Regardless, she failed.

If Angie Solomon is convicted of solicitation to commit first-degree murder—and it ain’t looking good from that recording—she could very well spend the rest of her life in prison.

Aaron later appeared on a podcast, talking about the incident.

In all fairness to Aaron—who is allegedly the boogeyman in this story—he should be heard from. Ultimately, the overwhelming majority of this story is from Angie and Gracie’s point of view. All the allegations.

It’s only right we hear from the man himself.

Because even though we have all of these stories and some receipts, there’s never been any charges. So much out there is unproven.

“He and I just two days before his accident were out in Leaper’s Fork throwing by ourselves out in the middle of nowhere. So if I wanted to do something ill to my son, I could have done it anywhere at any time. Not on a busy highway. Highway 109 by Gallatin is as busy as they get.”

“Well, you and we’re about to go into an appointment.”

“Yeah. That’s just the wildest.”

“So one that I know I saw and heard was that I hit him over the head with a bat—one of his bats—dragged him into the ditch, then pulled the truck around and drove it over him.”

“Okay. On a busy highway.”

“During our divorce, I was accused of abusing the kids in multiple ways. Was investigated twice during our divorce and found to be innocent of that. Later on, once again accused—post-divorce. Once again, that was not found to be true. My son’s accident itself—it’s such a freakish accident. You want to be able to put blame on something. I think there’s a part of my ex-wife that believes some of the lies that she has created in her mind.”

“What would you say to Gracie if you could talk to her right now?”

“I just want her to be okay.”

“Yeah.”

All in all, the case remains as is. No movement on an investigation into Grant’s death. Even with petitions up the wazoo and people covering this case.

Nothing.

In October of 2025, Gracie filed a lawsuit against Aaron, claiming that he molested her, drugged her, and she told people about it—and they did nothing.

Aaron has denied the accusations.

That lawsuit is still ongoing in the court system.

Epilogue: The Broken Fence
This case is pretty disgusting all around, I would say.

From the allegations to people ignoring what the kids were saying.

No investigation was done. Even if Grant’s death was an accident.

And Angie is—let’s say we believe Aaron, right? Grant’s death was a tragic accident. Angie is a crazy person. None of these accusations are true at all.

The fact that no real investigation has been done—no transparent investigation, anyway—has been done.

What does he have on the high and mighty of Franklin?

What does he hold over their head?

It is baffling.

He must be one of the good old boys there. All kind of taking care of each other. Patting each other on the back saying: “Jez, lads, we’re great.”

It’s pretty gross.

But let’s see what happens. Maybe the fact that Angie has actually been arrested for trying to hire a hitman will uncover some things about whether she had good reason to—or no.

But regardless, folks, it’s gross.

On that happy note, thank you so much for watching and being here.

It means the absolute world to me.

Until the next one, please take care of each other.

And take care of yourselves.