The morning of July 29, 2025, feels heavier than usual in New York City. The skyline still stands tall, but the grief is palpable, especially around 345 Park Avenue, the sleek Midtown office tower where four lives were brutally taken just a day ago. Among the victims was Julia Hyman, a 27-year-old Cornell graduate and rising star at Rudin Management, whose future was stolen in a matter of minutes. The shooting, carried out by Shane Tamura, a troubled 27-year-old from Las Vegas, wasn’t just an attack on a building; it was an assault on dreams, families, and the everyday people who make New York what it is.
Julia’s story is one of promise. A 2020 graduate of Cornell’s School of Hotel Administration, she had already made her mark in real estate, working first at Sagehall before joining Rudin Management as an associate in late 2024. Her LinkedIn profile paints a picture of ambition—Riverdale Country School alum, Ivy Leaguer, and a young professional with a trajectory that seemed unstoppable. But beyond the résumé, colleagues remember her as warm, sharp, and someone who lit up the room. The Rudin family’s statement called her “cherished,” a word that feels painfully inadequate when you realize she was only on the 33rd floor because Tamura took the wrong elevator.
The other victims—NYPD Officer Didarul Islam, Blackstone executive Wesley LePatner, and security guard Aland Etienne—each had their own stories, their own people who loved them. But today, we focus on Julia, because in the chaos of a mass shooting, it’s too easy for names to blur into statistics. She wasn’t a headline; she was a person who loved her city, her job, and the life she was building.
The Day Everything Changed
Monday, July 28, started like any other workday. Julia Hyman was likely wrapping up her tasks, maybe thinking about dinner plans or a weekend ahead. Meanwhile, Shane Tamura was parking his BMW near 345 Park Avenue, armed with an AR-15-style rifle and a head full of delusions. Police later found a note in his wallet blaming the NFL for CTE, a degenerative brain disease he believed he had from high school football, despite never playing professionally. His rambling writings included demands to “study my brain” and accusations against the league, but none of it makes sense when you consider the lives he destroyed.
💔 RIP: Also killed in the Midtown Manhattan shooting was Julia Hyman, 26, a 2020 Cornell University graduate and associate at Rudin Management, which owns the Park Avenue skyscraper where the attack occurred pic.twitter.com/XQxe7wVK5P
— Breaking911 (@Breaking911) July 29, 2025
Tamura entered the lobby around 6:28 p.m., shooting Officer Islam first, then Wesley LePatner, then Aland Etienne. He moved toward the elevators, but instead of heading to the NFL offices (his supposed target), he took the wrong bank and ended up on Rudin’s 33rd floor. That’s where he encountered Julia. Details are scarce about those final moments, but we know she didn’t stand a chance. Tamura fired indiscriminately before turning the gun on himself.
The aftermath was chaos—SWAT teams, locked-down offices, and a city struggling to process how something like this could happen in what Mayor Eric Adams called “one of the safest parts of Manhattan.” The building, home to giants like Blackstone and the NFL, became a crime scene. Colleagues who’d shared elevators with Julia were now hiding under desks, texting loved ones that they were alive. Meanwhile, her family was getting the call no one ever wants to receive.
The Ripple Effect of Loss
Julia Hyman’s death isn’t just a tragedy for her family or Rudin Management; it’s a reminder of how fragile life is in a city that never slows down. Her LinkedIn, still up as of this morning, shows a young woman in the prime of her career. Riverdale Country School, where she spent her formative years, released a statement mourning their alumna, calling her “a light extinguished too soon.” Cornell’s Hotel School, known for its tight-knit community, is planning a memorial. And then there’s Rudin, the real estate dynasty that owns 345 Park Avenue, now grappling with the loss of an employee inside their own building.
The other victims’ stories are just as heartbreaking. Wesley LePatner, a Blackstone executive and mother of two, was described as “brilliant, passionate, and generous” by her colleagues. Officer Islam left behind a pregnant wife and two kids. Aland Etienne, the security guard, was a father whose union called him a “New York hero.” But today, we’re talking about Julia, because in the rush to analyze shooters and motives, the victims deserve more than a passing mention.
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As investigators piece together Tamura’s cross-country drive, his mental health history, and his obsession with CTE, one thing is clear: this wasn’t just about the NFL. It was about a broken system that failed to stop a man who should never have had a gun. New York Governor Kathy Hochul is already calling for a national assault weapons ban, pointing out that Tamura’s rifle came from a state with lax laws. But for Julia’s family, policy debates won’t bring her back.
345 Park Avenue will reopen eventually. Work emails will resume, and the city will move on, because it has to. But for those who knew Julia Hyman, the world got a little dimmer on Monday. All because a man with a gun took the wrong elevator.
