With Heavy Hearts — RIP Alex, But the Search Isn’t Over

With deepest sadness, I want to thank everyone who has cared, searched, prayed, and held our family in their hearts. Unfortunately, tragedy has come. Rest in Peace, Alex. We love you so deeply. You were more than a son—you were our light, our joy, and our everything.

This is Day 5 since we started calling your name into the cold wind, hoping you’d answer. It’s wet. It’s freezing. It’s cruel. And you’re gone. But I still hold on to that tiny thread of hope—that somehow, this is a mistake, that somehow you’ll still walk through that door.

If you’re out there, Alex… if you can see this… please come home. Your family needs you. I need you.

Please Check Your Cameras — Every Second Counts

To everyone in and around Airport Heights, St. John’s, and nearby trails—please, please check your video cameras. Go back to footage from Saturday. Even the smallest glimpse of movement, the blur of someone walking by—it could mean the world. It could bring answers. It could bring him back to us.

There is no pain like not knowing. Like holding your breath between hope and devastation. If you’re on the trails, look closer. Check behind trees. Call his name. You could be the one to end this nightmare.

Every step matters. Every share matters. Every pair of eyes can help.

I’m Here — Don’t Be Alone in This Cold

The nights are long, the days are colder. And if someone out there is alone, scared, and cold, please let me help you.

I’m here in St. John’s. I’m not giving up. If you’re lost, if you need warmth, food, or shelter—call me any time: 709-458-8887. Even if you’re not Alex… you matter, too. Nobody deserves to be alone out there.

But most of all: Alex, we love you.

Your sisters, your brother, your nan and pop—we’re all broken right now. But our love for you is unbreakable. We will never stop loving you. We will never stop missing you. And we will never stop hoping.