From The Family

I won’t spend much time explaining how deeply I loved my younger brother Johnny, or what he meant to me and our family. That kind of love doesn’t need to be explained—it’s understood. And I know others here have lost loved ones too. I recognize that pain, and I don’t take it lightly.

But what I want to share today isn’t about seeking pity. It’s about helping others understand the difference in the kind of loss we’ve experienced.

Since Johnny disappeared in 2018, I’ve lost many loved ones:

• My mother

• My stepfather

• Both of my in-laws, to cancer—two of them passed away in our home 

• My father, who died by suicide—I was there when it happened 

• Two cousins, also lost to suicide 

• Two close friends, murdered 

• And three family members, including Johnny, who vanished without a trace 

That last kind of loss—the kind where someone disappears and is never heard from again—is different. It’s a wound that never closes. There’s no goodbye, no closure, no answers. Just silence. And that silence tears families apart. It leads to divorces, depression, even suicide. You’re left haunted by the last words you said to them, wondering if they knew how much they were loved.

This is the true meaning of an Impact Statement.

Because the impact of a disappearance is unlike any other kind of grief. It’s a never-ending nightmare. And the truth is, it could happen to anyone. The odds are higher than most people think.

So I hope this statement has done what it’s meant to do. I hope it helps someone understand the depth of this pain—and I hope you never have to feel it yourself. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.

Dedicated to Calvin Johnny Hunt

And to all those still living this tragedy every single day.