On a warm Saturday night in Lake Worth Beach, the traffic along South Dixie Highway was still moving when the gunfire broke the routine of another weekend. Just before midnight on November 1, 2025, deputies from the Palm Beach County Sheriff’s Office were called to the 700 block of South Dixie Highway after reports of shots fired. When they arrived, they found 38-year-old Leticia Rodriguez lying mortally wounded on the pavement.
She had been shot and there was nothing first responders could do; she was pronounced dead at the scene, the sudden end of a life that, only moments earlier, had been folded into the ordinary rhythm of the city.
News of her death traveled quickly through West Palm Beach and Lake Worth Beach, where friends and family described a woman who was full of life, a mother, daughter, niece and friend whose presence lit up gatherings and quiet moments alike. Her relatives spoke of their heartbreak and devastation, saying they were “just very heartbroken and devastated” and that she had been “overall a happy person” who loved her family and friends deeply. She left behind two children, who now must navigate their futures with only memories of their mother’s laughter and warmth. A fundraiser was started by loved ones to help with funeral expenses, each donation accompanied by notes of grief, disbelief, and affection for the woman whose absence felt impossible to accept.
While the family began to plan a funeral and tried to piece together the last hours of her life, detectives turned South Dixie Highway into a crime scene. Investigators with the Violent Crimes Division scoured the area for shell casings, surveillance cameras, and witnesses who might shed light on what led to the shooting. The sheriff’s office later released surveillance footage that captured a figure believed to be the shooter: a person in a dark hoodie and shorts moving away from the scene shortly after the shots rang out. Authorities did not publicly name the suspect, nor did they disclose a clear motive, leaving only the grainy images of that lone figure as the most tangible lead.
In the days that followed, law enforcement appealed repeatedly to the public for help. The Palm Beach County Sheriff’s Office and local news stations broadcast the surveillance clips, urging anyone who recognized the person in the video to come forward. Crime Stoppers’ number was shared again and again as officials emphasized that callers could remain anonymous and might be eligible for a reward. Despite the urgency of these pleas, no arrest had been announced, and the case remained an open homicide investigation, the shooter still somewhere beyond the reach of the flashing lights that had filled the night of the attack.
For Leticia’s family, the uncertainty has been a cruel companion to their grief. Her aunt spoke publicly about the family’s anguish, saying they “just want answers,” words that echoed throughout the community as candles were lit and online memorials grew. On gun violence memorial pages, her name was added to a long list of victims, her age and the date and place of her death recorded in stark, simple lines that could never capture the fullness of who she was. Yet behind those lines lies a story of a woman whose life intersected with countless others, whose love for her children and family is now preserved only in recollections and photographs. As investigators continue to search for the person responsible, her loved ones hold onto hope that someone will recognize the figure in the video, that a phone will ring with the tip that finally gives them the justice and closure they have been begging for since the moment the shots shattered that November night.
