Home to Those Still Missing

I am new to the world of missing persons.
It’s a reality I will never fully understand — the ache of not knowing where a loved one is, or how to bridge the gap between hope and heartbreak. But even from the outside looking in, it’s impossible not to feel the weight of it. As my pride for West Virginia has deepened over the years, so has my desire to help make our communities stronger, safer, and more seen — especially for those who have been left in silence.

As I began reading and learning, one heartbreaking truth became clear: for so many missing women — and so many others — the signs are there. Too often, the trail leads back to domestic violence, addiction, poverty, or cycles of vulnerability that were never meant to be theirs to bear. Their disappearances are not just random tragedies; they are often the final chapter in stories marked by struggle, isolation, or fear. Every missing person matters. But there is a particular kind of sorrow in almost knowing what happened, and still being unable to find justice or peace. It made me realize that when someone goes missing, the loss is not only personal — it’s a reflection of larger struggles, ones we must face with open eyes and open hearts.

Even though I am new to this work, I have learned a great deal through the process of filing FOIA requests. They have been my main tool — a way to reach for the pieces that were left behind, fragments of stories that deserve to be remembered. Most of the time, the results are frustrating: denials, redactions, closed doors. Still, I continue, because even one uncovered detail can make a difference. Each piece of information, no matter how small, matters — whether it helps update NamUs, brings a better understanding of the circumstances, or simply shines a light on lives that should never be forgotten. Through it all, my goal remains the same: to be as sensitive and respectful as possible, and to honor the people whose stories we carry forward.

My partner and I approach this work with an Occam’s Razor mindset — searching for the simplest explanations first — but always with a healthy dose of skepticism. We know that the truth is often more complicated than it first appears, layered with unanswered questions and untold struggles. It’s not about assuming the worst or the best — it’s about staying open to the full story, however it unfolds.

Above all, the foundation of this project is simple:
The missing are not important only because they were someone's daughter, son, mother, father, or friend.
They are important because they are themselves — and that is enough.

-B