It’s a mystery what happened that night, between 10:06 p.m. and 10:26 p.m.

Liz Hamel was out celebrating Valentine’s Day with her roommates and friends at a popular Isla Vista restaurant. The 18-year-old UCSB freshman was in a good mood, as she always seemed to be, when she left the noodle bar with a young man around her age at 10:06 p.m.

But by 10:26, something had gone terribly wrong. That’s when Hamel was found on the sidewalk, nearly lifeless, at the foot of the San Rafael Mountain Cluster, a UCSB on-campus dorm.

Someone made a call to 9-1-1 after seeing her. She had a pulse at the time. First responders arrived about six minutes later, attempted to revive her, and took her to the hospital.

By 2 a.m., doctors said her condition was “malignant and progressive,” and that it would eventually “progress toward brain death.”

Hamel died Feb. 20.

So how did Hamel die?

She fell from a breezeway at the San Rafael Mountain Cluster, according to her father, Alain Hamel.

UCSB, the on-campus Police Department, and the Santa Barbara County Sheriff’s Office have all been mostly silent on the death. UCSB never issued a Timely Alert after the fall. The investigation is ongoing.

So Noozhawk spoke to Hamel’s family and friends to piece together a portrait of what happened that night, and who exactly the person was who lost her life during her freshman year at UCSB.

Hamel came from Bellevue, Washington. Her move away from home to go to college was the stuff many girls dream of. She met amazing roommates, joined a sorority and loved school.

As a memory of her home and her parents, she brought her favorite baby blankie that she slept with.

Her father adored her, his only daughter. UCSB was her first college choice, he said. The dreamy weather, she loved the mountains and ocean.

“UCSB has a great combination of solid academics, beautiful weather and scenery, and is considered a fun school,” Hamel said. “She wanted all those things.”

They became empty-nesters when she left home. Her mom, Hema Shanthi, tracked her daughter’s location on the iPhone. Hamel said they were “helicopter parents.”

“We had a tremendously good relationship,” Hamel said. “We spent a good amount of time together.”

Back home in Bellevue, Liz sang in the choir, and played tennis on the high school team. She was a pugnacious competitor, always giving her all, and would battle players much bigger than she was. She learned resiliency and toughness early in life, Hamel said.

She battled extreme eczema when she was young. Hamel said she had to wear oven mitts at night to keep from tearing her skin.

“She overcame that, and I think it gave her a mental strength that stayed with her through life,” Hamel said.

The family also knew how to kick back and enjoy some chill time.

Hamel relishes the days when he watched television with his daughter — “Blue’s Clues” when she was little and “Tokyo Vice” more recently.

“Those moments meant everything to me,” he said. “The way Liz got completely lost in a show made watching with her a joy.”

The family also traveled, frequently taking trips to Hawaii. They surfed and paddle boarded together.

“She completely smoked me,” her father said. “She stood up on the first try, while I flailed.”

Hamel had to experience the worst nightmare for a parent. He gave his child’s eulogy in Santa Barbara in March.

He told many stories of his daughter’s life and loves, including her addiction to Starbucks, her intense fear of insects, and how she could raise her eyebrow in way that would make Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson feel jealous.

And his daughter loved her Subaru, or “The Suubs,” as she called it. She would go on spontaneous trips to escape and think.

“It was more than just a car to Liz,” he said. “It was freedom, a place to blast her music —Justin Bieber — even Liz wasn’t perfect.”

Interviews with friends reveal a person who was loved, the light of every room she walked into, and someone who could bring out happiness in everyone.

Bria McGahan, Danielle Breitwieser and Kate Berg spoke with Noozhawk to share their experiences with Liz.

They all described a young woman who was fun, full of energy and vitality, and a magnet for pulling out the best in people. She was a girl who loved her Starbucks coffee.

McGahan met her on move-in weekend. They eventually became sorority sisters. She lived in the room next door, and recalls Liv walking over, greeting her, and telling her that she was welcome anytime in her room.

“Her smile brightens every room she walks into,” McGahan said.

They shared a class together, too, one they “hated,” but they bonded over it.

“Going together made it more fun,” she said.

“I only knew her five months, but she made a big impact on me,” McGahan said. “You could not not smile around her.”

Her roommate, Berg, said they met at orientation. They were both only children, so they found a sister in one another. Together they listened to “old 2016 rap music.” They saw Dom Dolla in concert in Los Angeles.

“She was always smiling,” Berg said. “I never saw her down or upset. She made me laugh. Whether we were studying together or going to Starbucks together, it was always fun.”

Breitwieser had chemistry and math with Liz, and they often studied for tests together. Eventually they rushed and joined a sorority, and had the same “big,” or mentor, so they were like twins, Breitwieser said.

“Her smile was contagious,” Breitwieser said. “She radiated a positive personality. She was an extremely loyal friend, someone I could rely on. “

The night Liz died is shrouded in secrecy.

She left with a young man that none of her friends knew. A cell phone photo showed pictures of the side of his face, but nothing definitive.

When Liz left that night, she apparently forgot her iPhone and ID at the restaurant, Lao Wang Noodle Bar. It had caused a bit of confusion back home. Her mother tracked her location on the phone.

She had checked on her daughter’s whereabouts on Valentine’s Day and noticed that her location around midnight showed her at Lao Wang. When she woke up in the morning, the location showed her whereabouts back at her dorm. But she wasn’t home. Her roommates found her phone and brought it back to the dorm.

Liz lived in the San Miguel dorm. Her body was found at San Rafael, about a six-minute walk from Lao Wang.

What was she doing there?

Her father suspects that she left the restaurant to spend the rest of the evening with the unidentified male, but that’s not the person who called 9-1-1.

No one seems to know how to find the man, although there are partial pictures of him, Hamel said, on cell phones from the restaurant.

“All we know is she left with a boy,” Hamel said. “It seems difficult to fall on your own. Falling over a breezeway at her height, it is not something that seems to happen naturally. It seems strange. It doesn’t track.”

Hamel believes she fell about 30 feet. He said UCSB has not installed cameras at the dorm.

Kiki Reyes, spokesperson for UCSB, told Noozhawk:

“All residence halls require a keycard to access the inside of any building – residential suites/rooms and amenity spaces,” Reyes said in a statement. “San Rafael consists of multiple structures, some of which have residential suites that are externally facing and were designed to be accessed by key, directly from the outside. All of our residence halls are equipped with cameras in the elevators.”

She said UCSB had no further update on the situation.

Hamel said he has been having weekly meetings with authorities. They engage with him, but he’s getting very little information. He expressed frustration that UCSB did not put out a message after the death.

“It is rare for a person to die on campus,” he said.

Liz’s mom had seen her daughter a day before the fall. She had visited for a few days and left on Feb. 13.

Both parents planned to return and stay a couple of weeks to celebrate Liz’s birthday on April 9. They had rented a local home and intended to celebrate their daughter.

The day never came. In the eulogy he delivered, Hamel expressed his love.

“She was my daughter, my friend, my TV buddy, and my constant source of pride,” Hamel said. “I miss her with every breath, but I’m endlessly grateful for every moment we had.”