In our family growing up, Jay’s sense of humor gave us the laughter we needed to get along in life. Jay was mischievous, clever. Sometimes Jay’s actions would get him into trouble. When this happened, Jay’s eyes would begin to sparkle, and then a huge grin would take over his face. You could not help smile when Jay smiled.

     On September 17th, 2001, Jay disappeared. I received a call from a mutual friend, who had not heard from Jay in two days. Our local Sheriff’s Department found the car Jay was driving parked at an unoccupied house. The last person Jay had been with was Pam, a friend of his. Pam told us of a fall Jay had taken. She and Jay had gone to his apartment early on Sunday. He had locked himself out, so he climbed the second story balcony, where his sliding door would be unlocked, but he fell. He landed on the hard pavement about 10 feet below. Jay was unconscious for several minutes. When he came to, he refused to go to the hospital and brushed off the incident with that smile of his. Several hours later, Jay left in the car and was never seen or heard from again. Our father, a neurosurgeon, concluded that in a state of confusion from the head trauma, Jay had parked at the wrong house and wandered off into the woods were he died of a brain hemorrhage.

     Our local Search and Rescue Teams were on the site within hours. Family and friends diligently joined in a three-day search for Jay.

     It was overwhelming searching for my brother’s body. I wanted to find him, but I was fearful of what I might find. Words swirled in my head “Where are you Jay? Are you in pain? How can I help you if I cannot find you? I’ll be the one to find you… won’t I? Have you become an angel? Will I feel your angel arms around me when I find your body?” With no sign of Jay when the search ended, I headed for my bed.

     Grief set heavily into my heart. The hopelessness and the depression were too great a pain to carry. I could not imagine ever feeling better. For the first time in my life I understood why people commit suicide. I would not take my own life, though I often prayed to be taken by accident or disease.

     At home I felt safest. I did not like leaving my home. Whenever I went out, people would ask if there was any word of my brother. This happened every place I went, to the grocery store, the post office, even on a walk by myself, there was always somebody. At first I was so ashamed. When I saw people who knew and loved Jay, all I could think of was the grief seeing me brought them.

     Not long after Jay’s disappearance, a psychic told me I would find his body in the river south of the search area. So, another search began, with waders and my friends down the river. Our search took us six miles down stream. No Jay. Back to my bed I went, in a state of mental, physical and emotional exhaustion.

     Another psychic’s reading took me into the hills and canyons outside the original search area with scent dogs. I cried a lot during these searches. In my mind, there was nothing but blackness, horror. The images that came to me as I searched, and as I slept grew more and more gruesome.

     Next, the snow came. The beautiful, white, peaceful snow that innocently covered any scent of Jay a dog might find. As the days grew into months, searching was over for the winter. I felt powerless. I lived in a state of gloom. I cried often, I missed my brother terribly. I missed his calls to ask what he should wear on a date. I missed discussing what we were going to do with our children for the weekend. I missed him listening to my problems. I missed his huge grin that he wore often. I missed Jay...

     I thought about Jay dead and I thought about Jay alive. Each time I arrived home, as I opened the front door, I prayed to see Jay sitting comfortably on my couch. He would be wearing that huge grin. Whenever a knock was on my door, I dreaded it was someone with news of Jay’s body being found.

     When spring came we had a lead. Someone came forward and told of how they overheard a story. They heard that Jay had been with two people the afternoon of his disappearance, they were doing drugs. Jay went into convulsions and died in front of them (maybe the brain hemorrhage). One of the people with Jay was on parole and freaked out when Jay died, thinking it was because of an overdose. The two people hid Jay’s body in a mine, in one of the many surrounding canyons. Off I went again, with friends into many, many mines...

     One mine we checked had a shaft that went straight down for 400 feet. The sheriff’s department hired a camera and man out of Mountain Home that specialized in checking mines for the state. The camera did not find Jay’s body down that mine.

     We found a mine that went horizontally back into the mountainside for hundreds of yards. It was full of water. The plan was for my friends to get some equipment to drain the mine. They would let me know when to meet them back there.

     Later that day, I lost my mind. I could not wait for them. I thought Jay was in that mine and I had to get him. At the mine I found a long thick stick. I rolled up my jeans and went into the cold water. The cave was about 8 feet wide. I walk slowly forward, with my stick going back and forth in front of me. I was thankful for the darkness, knowing I would find Jay by feel. Before long, the water was above my waist, I kept moving, crying echoed off the walls. Finally, my mind returned. I was far back in a dark mine. I was too afraid to go further. The next day we drained the mine. No Jay.

     That summer a body was found in a reservoir outside of Boise, Idaho. The investigators knew it was male, but there was no other official word. This threw me and my family into a panic. The next morning, a picture of the belt that was around the torso of the body appeared on the front cover of The Idaho Statesman. Our family agreed that it was not the kind of thing Jay would ever wear. The body was not Jay’s.

     Another time, I was visiting my mother in Seattle when the police officer on Jay’s case called. He said that he had found Jay’s body. A man whose description fit Jay’s had hung himself in a hotel room closet in Eastern Washington. He asked if I would go on the site for unidentified dead people to see if the picture was my brother. What a miserable experience to look at that website of dead people. The man looked like Jay, but was not Jay.

     When Jay disappeared, my life changed dramatically. My career had no meaning to me any longer. I began to write. My books have become the vehicle for a system I created, where challenged readers can teach themselves to read. One day, a book of mine will reach Jay. Jay will read the message in the book, "Jay, this is your sign, it is time to come home."

     I feel that Jay is still alive. Through my books, I plan to get Jay's attention, and to encourage him to return home.

     When Jay returns, we are ready to bring him in. I now live on a large enough property to house ALL my family that would like to live close. Come home and be a hero Jay. We miss you. The whole town, the whole family, is ready to celebrate your return!