Inside an Ontario missing person case: 12 years, fond memories, no answers
There have been years of the same stories, with moments of hope dashed and seemingly little progress in the police investigation.
Trever Andrews’ family doesn’t like to talk about his disappearance.
Instead, the family chooses to focus on good times they remember about the missing Londoner.
Thursday was the 12th anniversary of the night Trever Andrews vanished, at 26 years old, last seen rushing to catch a late-night public transit bus. There was no event to mark the milestone or to plead with anyone with information to come forward, in what remains an open police investigation.
But his sister, Kelly Andrews, shared thoughts about her younger brother, who has missed seeing his young son, now 14, grow up, and about the quest to find out what became of her sibling.
Kelly Andrews remembers her brother as an introverted kid who loved the TV shows Alf and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. He had a few friends in their neighbourhood, in the Sanford Street area of the Huron Heights subdivision in northeast London, but he mostly kept to himself, inside the house.
He was a “huge music kid,” said Andrews, one who loved rap and hip-hop. He always was competitive with his cousin, Adam, the same age, when they played video games. When a new console came out – Sega, then Nintendo 64 – Trever would rush out to get it first.
“They were always trying to one-up each other,” Kelly Andrews said.
It seems so long ago, now. They grew up, their paths diverged.
Trever would struggle with addiction for nearly a decade and wound up living with his father, Rick, now deceased, who also struggled with addiction, said Andrews.
When her brother disappeared, he had a two-year-old son, Travis, and was thinking about going back to school to get a high school equivalency diploma, Andrews said.
The last time Kelly saw her brother was in September, 2009, at a birthday party for her now-ex-husband. Trever was asked to leave. Though things were strained, Trever still called his family frequently, usually at 3 or 4 a.m. – if only to leave a brief, funny voicemail – to let them know he was alive and safe. He knew his family didn’t condone his lifestyle, but he stayed in touch. He didn’t want them to worry.
It all ended on Oct. 28, 2009, sometime after 11:40 p.m. Trever left a friend’s place on Oakville Avenue at Tilipe Road. He was heading to catch the last run of the No. 21 Huron Heights bus to go home.
He never called again. There was no activity on his bank accounts. He never got the chance to go back to school or watch his toddler son grow up.
After the family reported him missing, it was 11 days before police “put it (out) to the public,” she said.
The family formed search parties and spread out in wooded areas they “thought maybe would be a good dumping grounds place,” Andrews said, “but nothing ever came of it.”
Andrews said she had a gut feeling, almost immediately, that Trever had been killed.
Police don’t go that far, with Staff Sgt. Sean Travis of the London police saying only their investigation remains active and all possible explanations for Trever’s disappearance, including foul play, are being considered.