Vivid Nightmares
Hosted by Bridgett Denise, where Southern charm meets chilling darkness.
Step into the shadows of the American South with Vivid Nightmares, a true crime and paranormal podcast that uncovers the region’s most disturbing unsolved cases, forgotten murders, eerie folklore, and haunted history. Hosted by Bridgett, a Southern-born true crime storyteller with a passion for the strange and sinister, each episode dives deep into the darkest corners of the South—blending historical research, personal theories, and haunting audio to leave you chilled long after the credits roll.
From abandoned asylums and backroad legends to infamous killers and mysteries lost to time, Vivid Nightmares offers immersive, atmospheric storytelling that honors the victims, questions the evidence, and dares to explore the unexplained.
New episodes every Friday.
Because in the South, the past never stays buried.
Vivid Nightmares
Greed, Gunfire, and the Brinks Truck Murder in Columbus, Georgia
A veteran guard is gunned down outside a Columbus bank days before Christmas, turning a planned robbery into an execution that rattles a city built on service. We trace the ambush, the shootout, the verdicts, and the questions about motive that still press on the case.
• the ambush at SouthTrust Bank and the rapid escalation into a shootout
• John Hamilton’s service, family, and the community impact of his death
• roles of Leon Tollette, Xavier Womack, and Jake Robinson in the plan
• close-range gunfire and prosecutorial framing as execution
• Tollette’s guilty plea, death sentence, and decades of appeals
• Womack and Robinson’s armed robbery convictions and legal distinctions
• media response and the widow’s statement shaping public memory
• the enduring question of why the trigger was pulled again and again
• what predictable security routines risk and how they evolve
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What do you think? Was Tallettte always going to pull the trigger, no matter what? Or could Hamilton have lived if things had gone differently that day?
December twenty-first, nineteen ninety-five, Columbus, Georgia. A routine bank pickup turns into chaos in seconds. A Brinks guard, John Hamilton, a Vietnam veteran, a husband, a father, collapses to the pavement. The shooter, he doesn't just fire once, he keeps firing. And here's the kicker. This wasn't some impulsive stick-up gone wrong, no. This was a carefully planned ambush. A trio of men had followed the truck, stalked it, waited for the exact moment to strike. And the fallout, a death sentence, years of courtroom battles, and a community scarred by the brutal murder of a man who already survived war. This is the story of the Brinks truck killing that rocked Columbus, Georgia, and how greed left blood on the pavement.
SPEAKER_02:Stories forgotten dickens.
SPEAKER_00:I'm your host, Bridget Denise, and here we peel back the shadows of the South, where crime, mystery, and chilling history linger long after the headlines fade. Each week, I'll take you deep into stories that leave a mark. Some are infamous, others forgotten, but all of them remind us how fragile the line really is between ordinary life and absolute terror. Today's case is one that turned a routine December morning in Georgia into a gunfight, a tragedy, and a years-long battle in the courts. This isn't just about a robbery. It's about greed, violence, and the murder of a man who had already faced war, only to lose his life on the streets of Columbus. Okay, so let's rewind. Mid 90s Georgia. Columbus wasn't exactly a crime-free bubble, but armored trucks, they represented something solid, safe, reliable. If you saw a Brinks truck roll up, you didn't think murder, you thought money protected. John Hamilton was part of that image. He wasn't just some nameless guard. He was a US Army veteran. A man who had put his life on the line in Vietnam, then come home and continued serving in his own way. Family man, hard worker, the kind of guy people trusted to carry millions in cash down the street without flinching. But here's the tragic irony. After surviving a war zone, Hamilton's life ended not overseas, but right here in Georgia on a simple December morning, all because a group of men decided they wanted the easy way out. Someone else's paycheck, someone else's blood on their hands. And who were these men? That's where the story really sharpens. Leon Tallette, the trigger man. A man from Los Angeles, already a convicted felon, flown in specifically to pull the trigger. Xavier Womack, the supposed lookout. Jake Robinson, the getaway driver. Three men, one plan. And as we'll see, it was doomed from the start. It's the morning of December 21st, 1995, in Columbus, Georgia, just a few days before Christmas. The uptown streets are buzzing with last-minute shoppers, people cashing paychecks, folks rushing into South Trust Bank. The Brinks truck pulls up right on schedule. Inside, John Hamilton, the guard, carrying out his routine pickup. This is the part of the job that seems almost boring if you do it enough times. Walk into the bank, grab the bag, haul it back to the truck. Safe, simple, no fuss. But following close behind, three men with very different plans. Xavier Womack stays back watching. He's the lookout. Jake Robinson is in position, ready to drive. And then there's Leon Tollette, the man who came here for one reason to pull the trigger. Now picture this. John Hamilton is walking out of the bank, money bag in hand, steps away from the safety of the armored truck. But before he can get there, Tollette closes the distance. He raises his gun, close enough to see Hamilton's face, close enough to make sure he doesn't miss. Shots ring out. Not one, not two, but several, tearing into Hamilton's head, back, and legs. The street explodes into chaos. People scream. Shoppers die for cover. And here's where it gets even messier, because this wasn't some clean grab and run. The other Brinks guards weren't about to just stand there. Gunfire erupts as they chase Toilette, bullets flying across uptown Columbus in broad daylight. Can you imagine just trying to get some holiday shopping done? And suddenly you're in the middle of a shootout. Tallette fires back, running desperate. He even takes aim at responding police officers. But luck has a limit and his runs out fast. His clip empties, no more bullets, no more chance at escape. Surrounded, Tallette drops his weapon and surrenders, and just like that, the robbery is over. John Hamilton is dead. The money never makes it out of the street. And instead of getting away with a fortune, the suspects are staring down a capital murder case that will haunt Georgia courts for decades. The gunfire stops, but the silence it leaves behind? That's louder than the shots themselves. John Hamilton is lying on the pavement, bleeding out in front of the Brinks truck he's guarded for years. Shoppers who had been running toward the bank just moments before are now crouched behind cars, peeking out in horror. Mothers clutch their kids, people whisper prayers, Hamilton never gets back up. This man, who survived the jungles of Vietnam, who had spent decades protecting both his country and his community, was killed on a street in Columbus, Georgia in a matter of seconds. Police swarm the area, witnesses point to where the shooter ran, to the chaos of the chase. Officers collect showcasings, bag evidence, take hurried statements, everyone agrees this wasn't random. It was planned. Calculated, cold blooded, and here's the thing that made this case hit harder than most robberies. The violence wasn't necessary. If this had just been about the money, John Hamilton didn't have to die, but Leon Tallette made sure he did. Shots to the head, back, legs, overkill. Prosecutors would later argue it wasn't just robbery, it was an execution. The news spread fast. Local headlines ran with it that same day, armed robbery, Brinks Guard killed for Columbus, a city proud of its military history, home to Fort Benning, a place where service was honored. The murder of a veteran like Hamilton felt personal. It wasn't just a crime scene, it was an insult to the community's sense of safety and respect. And for Hamilton's family, devastation. His widow would later say he went to Vietnam and survived. And this happened because somebody was too lazy to work for a living. Her words cut through the legal language, through all the appeals and arguments. This wasn't just a case number. It was her husband, their father, a man who deserved to come home that night. Meanwhile, police had the suspects in custody Wamack, Robinson, and Tallette. And while Tallette had literally been caught red-handed, the real storm was only beginning, because now the courts were about to take center stage. When this case hit the courts, it wasn't just about one man pulling the trigger, it was about three men, each with the role in John Hamilton's death. And in Georgia, in the mid nineties, there was no patience for excuses. Leon Tollette, the shooter first up, the man everyone knew had fired the shots. Leon Tollette, he didn't even wait for a full trial. On the very first day of jury selection, he pled guilty to murder, armed robbery, weapons charges, everything. But pleading guilty didn't spare him. Georgia law required a jury to decide his punishment, so the courtroom shifted into a sentencing trial, and prosecutors wasted no time. They painted him as an executioner, not a desperate thief, but a man who fired shot after shot into a guard just doing his job. They showed the autopsy reports, wounds to Hamilton's head, back, and legs, overkill. The defense tried to humanize him. They spoke of his childhood in Los Angeles, Watts, Gardena, neighborhoods riddled with gangs and violence. They said he grew up with low self esteem, untreated depression, and little chance to escape the cycle. But none of that erased the image of a veteran bleeding out on a Georgia sidewalk. The jury found two aggravating factors. The murder was committed during a robbery, the murder was committed for money. Together, those were enough for death. The jury sentenced Toilette to die by lethal injection, and with that, Tollette's fate was sealed, or so it seemed. In reality, his name would keep circling through the courts for decades, appeal after appeal. Xavier Womack, the lookout then came Xavier Womack, the man who stood watch. Unlike Tollette, Womack actually faced a full trial. Prosecutors wanted him tied to the murder too, saying he knew exactly what Tollette was going to do. But here's the thing, Womack never pulled a trigger. The jury wrestled with that distinction. And in the end, they acquitted him of the murder charges, but don't think he walked away clean. He was convicted of armed robbery, because let's be real, he was part of the plan. He was the eyes on the street making sure everything lined up. His sentence, prison time, but not death. Jake Robinson, the getaway driver, and then there was Jake Robinson, the alleged getaway driver. His trial was messy, juries couldn't quite agree. At one point he was acquitted of murder, but there was a hung jury on other counts. Prosecutors brought him back, and eventually he was convicted of armed robbery. Robinson was younger, more of a follower than a mastermind, but legally it didn't matter. He was part of the conspiracy. That was enough to land him behind bars. The verdict for Columbus and so when the trials ended, the picture looked like this Tollette, death penalty. Womack, armed robbery conviction. Robinson, armed robbery conviction. But for Columbus, the sentences weren't enough to erase the loss. A veteran was gone, a family torn apart just before Christmas, and no matter how many appeals wound through the system, John Hamilton's name was the one that stuck. The trials ended, but the story didn't. Not for the families, not for Columbus, and certainly not for the courts. Leon Tollette was sent to death row, but if you know anything about capital punishment in America, you know that's not the end. It's the start of decades of appeals, petitions, and paperwork. His defense argued ineffective counsel, that his background hadn't been fully considered, that the jury didn't hear enough about the depression, the chaos of his childhood in Los Angeles. But one by one, every appeal failed. In 2005, the Georgia Supreme Court upheld his conviction and death sentence. By 2021, even the U.S. Supreme Court refused to take another look. The death sentence stood. Xavier Wamack and Jakeith Robinson stayed locked up for armed robbery. Both avoided murder convictions, but in the eyes of the community, their names were forever tied to the death of John Hamilton. And Hamilton? His absence was permanent. His widow never let the world forget who he was. In interviews, she said what so many were thinking, her husband had survived war only to be cut down by somebody too lazy to work for a living. Her words became the emotional headline that outlived the crime reports. Theories? Not many. This wasn't an unsolved mystery with shadows lurking. This was greed, pure and simple. Three men plotted for money and one man died for it. But the lingering question isn't who did it? It's why. Why did Tolette pull the trigger again and again when all he had to do was grab the bag? Was it adrenaline? Rage? Or was he always going to kill no matter what? For Columbus, Georgia, the Brinks truck murder left scars. It shook a city proud of its military ties. It reminded everyone that danger can show up anywhere, even on a sunny December morning, right before Christmas. And it proved once again that when greed meets violence, no one walks away untouched. And that's the story of the Brinks Truck murder in Columbus, Georgia, a case of greed, violence, and a community left grieving just days before Christmas. John Hamilton wasn't just a guard. He was a veteran, a husband, a father, and his murder wasn't about revenge or passion, it was about money, cold, hard cash. But what do you think? Was Tallette always going to pull the trigger, no matter what? Or could Hamilton have lived if things had gone differently that day? I'd love to hear your thoughts. Share your theories with me on social media. You can find me on Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube, all under Vivid Nightmares Podcast. If you enjoyed this episode, make sure to follow the show on Spotify or wherever you listen, so you never miss a Friday drop. And if you want to support the podcast, leave a review or share it with a friend who loves true crime and dark history. Thank you for listening. I'm Bridget Denise, and this has been Vivid Nightmares, where the South's darkest crimes and mysteries live on in chilling detail. Until next time, stay safe and keep the lights on.
