In the peaceful wooded expanse of Lansdowne Station, Nova Scotia, where the rustling of pine needles and the sound of Gairloch Brook’s gentle flow once signaled serenity, a heart-wrenching discovery has shattered the illusion of rural peace. After 210 days of tireless searching, the remains of six-year-old Lilly Sullivan and her four-year-old brother Jack were uncovered near the brook’s mossy banks—a devastating conclusion to a case that has captivated the attention of Canada and beyond. The Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP), after meticulous forensic analysis, have ruled out accident or misadventure, officially classifying the case as a homicide investigation. The initial assumption that the siblings had wandered off from their Gairloch Road home has now been replaced by a far darker reality, with family disputes and betrayal pointing to those closest to the children.
The disappearance of Lilly and Jack on May 2, 2025, immediately sparked widespread concern. The children were reported missing by their mother, Malehya Brooks-Murray, at 10:01 a.m. that morning. Last seen at their home on Gairloch Road—a sparsely populated stretch of land nestled between dense forests and winding streams—the siblings’ sudden vanishing prompted one of the largest search efforts in the region. Over 160 searchers, including ground teams, K-9 units, drones, and helicopters, scoured the rugged terrain for six days, but their efforts were in vain. Despite countless tips, interviews, and hours of footage, no trace of the children was found, except for fragments—a pink blanket confirmed to be Lilly’s, a boot print matching the shoes Brooks-Murray bought for Lilly, and a sock found in the woods, whose significance remains unclear.
As the weeks turned into months, the case took a more complex and sinister turn. Court documents unsealed in August 2025 revealed numerous contradictions and discrepancies. Brooks-Murray and her partner, Daniel Martell, the children’s stepfather, reported they were in bed with their infant daughter, Meadow, on the morning of May 2, hearing Lilly and Jack playing in the kitchen. Security footage from a local store confirmed the family’s presence on May 1, but no one could confirm the children’s whereabouts after that afternoon. A witness claimed to have seen two children matching Lilly and Jack’s descriptions walking toward Westville on the morning of May 2, but this tip was later deemed uncorroborated. A further tip from a New Brunswick hotel employee suggested the children’s biological father, Cody Sullivan, was seen with them, but Sullivan denied any contact and provided an unverified alibi.
The potential involvement of Lilly and Jack’s biological father, Cody Sullivan, and the ongoing custody battle between him and Brooks-Murray has become a critical focus of the investigation. Court documents indicate a contentious separation, with Sullivan paying child support but being denied visitation rights due to prior disputes. Brooks-Murray speculated to police that Sullivan might have taken the children to New Brunswick, but there was no evidence to support this theory. Sullivan’s alibi was redacted in reports, and polygraph tests administered to both Brooks-Murray and Martell were deemed truthful. However, the absence of evidence placing Sullivan at the scene has not quelled suspicions.
The investigation took a somber turn in September, with the RCMP’s decision to deploy cadaver dogs to the area around Gairloch Brook. Although no remains were found, the search signaled a shift from a rescue operation to a recovery effort. In November, a tip led the RCMP back to the area, where forensic teams discovered skeletal remains buried beneath layers of silt. The remains, identified through dental records and DNA testing, were confirmed to be those of Lilly and Jack. The announcement, made by Staff Sergeant Rob McCamon on November 29, stunned the nation. The RCMP’s classification of the case as a homicide investigation marked a grim shift from the earlier search efforts. The discovery of their remains, coupled with the exclusion of accidental causes like drowning or exposure, points to deliberate harm and sets the stage for a deeper investigation into the children’s deaths.
Lilly and Jack were beloved in their community. Lilly, a first-grader at West Pictou Consolidated, was known for her inquisitive nature and love for learning. Teachers recalled her curiosity, especially about the stars, and described her as a bright and focused student. Jack, a preschooler, was described as a playful and energetic boy, his love for dinosaurs evident in his favorite blue dinosaur boots. Their lives, though tragically short, were filled with laughter, love, and the promise of a bright future. Their sudden disappearance left a gaping hole in the community, with neighbors and friends coming together to honor their memory. A makeshift memorial outside the Stellarton RCMP detachment grew with teddy bears, candles, and handwritten notes that read, “Come home, little ones.”.
The RCMP’s homicide investigation has now turned its attention to the family’s inner circle, with Brooks-Murray and Martell remaining central figures. Their accounts, though consistent, are being closely scrutinized. Both claimed to have heard the children playing but offered no further details about their movements that morning. Martell’s actions after the disappearance, including driving and running through the woods for hours, have raised more questions. The discovery of Lilly’s pink blanket in a trash bag adds further layers of mystery: Was it discarded in panic, or was it a deliberate act? Forensic analysis is ongoing, with experts working to determine its significance.
As the investigation continues, family dynamics remain at the forefront. The custody battle between Brooks-Murray and Sullivan over the children’s care has created divisions, with Sullivan’s mother, Belynda Gray, vocally defending him and questioning the RCMP’s transparency. Gray’s calls for more public disclosure have echoed throughout the community, where rumors and speculation have flourished. With the RCMP refusing to name suspects and ongoing forensic analysis, the case remains in a delicate phase. Over 800 investigative tasks are still underway, including re-interviews with witnesses, the analysis of school bus footage, and digital forensics aimed at uncovering deleted files.
In Pictou County, where the Sullivan family’s tragedy has left its mark, locals continue to grapple with the impact of the case. At Dino’s Coffee Shop in New Glasgow, 30 kilometers south, conversations swirl about the siblings’ disappearance and the ongoing investigation. “Those kids were everybody’s kids,” says Tom Hargrove, a retired millworker. “Now we’re wondering who we can trust.” The economic ripple effect of the case is also felt in the region, with a decrease in tourism as visitors shy away from a place now synonymous with tragedy.
Despite the ongoing investigation, the community remains united in honoring Lilly and Jack’s memory. A memorial playground for the siblings has already raised $20,000, and the school plans to plant a maple tree for each child in the spring. Meanwhile, true-crime enthusiasts continue to dissect every detail of the case on podcasts and online forums, adding pressure to the authorities to find answers. Advocacy groups like Autism Canada are calling for better wander-prevention training in schools, pointing to Lilly and Jack’s potential autism as a factor in their initial mischaracterization as runaways.
As winter descends on Lansdowne Station, the search for answers continues. The community’s grief lingers, and the investigation presses on, with the promise of justice for Lilly and Jack still driving those who remain committed to uncovering the truth.
“Six Months Gone: The Disappearance of Lilly and Jack Sullivan Still Haunts Nova Scotia’s Forests”.5654.
Six months. Two tiny beds still empty. And the forests of Nova Scotia whisper secrets no one wants to hear.
On a crisp May morning in 2025, Lilly Sullivan, six, and her younger brother Jack, four, vanished from their rural home on Gairloch Road in Pictou County. No screams. No signs of struggle. Just absence—a silence that stretched and grew with each passing hour. For a community used to open doors and quiet mornings, the sudden void was jarring, suffocating, and utterly incomprehensible.
In the early hours of May 2, their mother, Malehya Brooks-Murray, 29, a nurse at Colchester East Hants Health Centre, reported the children missing. She claimed she last checked on them at 6:30 a.m., finding their beds empty and the back door ajar, its latch reportedly broken. Jack, still in pull-up diapers, had been in Spider-Man pajamas; Lilly in her pink unicorn ones, blonde hair tousled from sleep. Their disappearance launched a six-month odyssey that would engulf Nova Scotia in grief, suspicion, and desperate search efforts.
Initial RCMP reports echoed a tentative hope: “They wandered off.” Volunteers scoured bogs and forests, cadaver dogs combed creeks, and helicopters buzzed overhead, thermal cameras scanning for a hint of life. Yet with each passing day, hope eroded. Shreds of a pink blanket—Lilly’s favorite—were found in household trash. Thousands of hours of video were reviewed. Tips poured in from far and wide. And still, the children were nowhere.
The Sullivan case quickly became a mosaic of small, eerie details. Unsealed court documents in August revealed polygraph tests: Brooks-Murray’s results showed “deception indicators” when questioned about her children’s last movements; stepfather Daniel Martell’s results were inconclusive, raising quiet eyebrows. A neighbor reported seeing a dark SUV circling at 3 a.m., though no ownership could be traced. Meanwhile, biological father Cody Sullivan, estranged for three years, confirmed he had been in New Brunswick the night the children disappeared and had no contact with them—a detail at odds with initial assumptions.
As weeks turned to months, the search became as much about forensic scrutiny as about physical hunting. Cadaver dogs swept 40 kilometers near the home, repeatedly hitting on nothing but wildlife. Pink blanket fragments, a boy’s shirt, discarded diapers, and even a geocache from 2014 with Martell’s name offered tantalizing hints that fizzled under closer inspection. Volunteers, friends, and family combed every inch of land, following leads from riverbanks to ridges, only to find frustration in place of certainty.
For the family, grief became a living, breathing entity. Paternal grandmother Belynda Gray, relentless in her advocacy, tirelessly coordinated volunteers, posted online appeals, and attended every search. “Three months in, and we’re no closer,” she told CBC. “Every dawn breaks the same way—with hope, then despair.” Social media became both lifeline and battleground. Threads on X and Reddit dissected timelines, scrutinized inconsistencies in official reports, and debated possible scenarios. For armchair detectives and locals alike, the woods were both a sanctuary and a snare.
The timeline of May 1–2 remains jagged and fragmented. The children were kept home from Salt Springs Elementary due to illness. Brooks-Murray said they were last seen at 10 p.m. May 1. That night, she claimed to leave for family elsewhere, leaving Martell at the home, though he maintained he had work obligations. By 10 a.m. the next morning, with beds empty and doors ajar, the alarm was raised. Every detail—from toy placement to backpack location—became a scrutinized clue in a case that seemed to defy ordinary logic.
As summer turned to fall, investigations expanded. Toll footage from Cobequid Pass, surveillance from New Glasgow, and phone records were meticulously reviewed. Yet gaps remained. Every lead seemed to dissolve: sightings that couldn’t be verified, footprints washed out by rain, cadaver dogs signaling false positives, tips that came too late. Meanwhile, the reward for information grew to $150,000—a testament to the desperation of a province unwilling to surrender hope.
Volunteer searches in November rekindled faint embers of possibility. Cheryl Robinson, a family friend, and others ventured into treacherous terrain, pre-snow searches through bogs and ravines. A geocache bearing Martell’s name from years prior was found—but it offered no answers, only questions. Gray’s frustration was palpable: “We’re racing winter again. Nobody’s giving up.” The cold added a cruel urgency. In Nova Scotia, once frost sets, the woods become even less forgiving, covering potential traces under snow and ice.
Experts caution that rural disappearances like the Sullivans’ often involve complexities hidden from the casual eye. Dr. Elena Vasquez, a former RCMP profiler, noted: “Cases like this hinge on familial dynamics and environmental concealment. Six months without a confirmed sighting puts forensic science and tip integrity to the test.” Veteran search coordinator Kevin Hargrove added: “This terrain is brutal—bogs, hypothermia risks, wildlife. Survival alone is statistically improbable.”.
The public, meanwhile, oscillates between hope and despair. Local schools still display drawings and messages: “Come Home, Lilly” scrawled in crayon, tiny hands’ desperate pleas frozen on paper. The community’s pain is amplified by the slow churn of official updates and the viral spread of speculation online. Conspiracy theories—some implicating step-parents, some external parties—have taken root, a reflection of society’s struggle to understand what rational explanations cannot yet satisfy.
As November fades, the Sullivan home stands silent, a monument to the unknown. Memorial ribbons flutter in the cold wind; toys left untouched whisper of absence. Gray’s plea echoes in empty hallways and social media feeds alike: “Pray for peace that surpasses understanding.” The RCMP continues to investigate, their officers combing every lead, from minor anomalies in toll records to cross-border contacts, refusing to let bureaucracy or fatigue curtail the search.
Six months later, Pictou County’s woods remain an enigma. Lilly’s strawberry backpack, Jack’s Spider-Man pull-ups, remnants of ordinary childhood, are now talismans of urgency, each item a reminder that innocence was swallowed by mystery. Will the forests yield their secrets? Or will the children remain hidden, their story suspended in the shadowed trees, leaving a family to confront the unbearable weight of unanswered questions?
For now, every sunrise brings both hope and dread. Every volunteer, every tip, every patrol feels like a lifeline cast into darkness. And while winter threatens to cover the trails in frost, the community continues to fight against silence, believing that somewhere, somehow, Lilly and Jack’s story can still reach a happy ending.