It all began last night when I stumbled upon a post from a woman we’ll call Joan, who was searching for her mother and sisters. Curiously, none of my fellow Search Angels had commented or responded to her plea. At first, I didn’t realize that the poster had misspelled her mother’s name, which made it stand out to me.
I dove into the search, unfortunately starting with the misspelled name. To my surprise, I found a woman with a similarly unusual spelling, but she was 100 years old—not the person we were looking for. I shifted my strategy, focusing instead on the place of birth and the last name of the birth family. This led me to a woman who shared that last name, with a first name that might be the correct version of the misspelled name. The details noted an additional name, which I later discovered was a maiden name, but no phone numbers or birth dates were available.
I continued my research and, within minutes, found myself engrossed in a 14-page court document detailing the tragic murder of this mother and her 9-year-old son. I sought out other articles—perhaps a newspaper account that avoided the more harrowing details—but at that moment, nothing definitively confirmed a match. The last name I found was actually the 721st most common surname in the U.S. Although I felt cautiously optimistic, I wasn’t entirely convinced… until my next discovery.
In conducting a new search, I combined the full name with the alternative last name that could have represented another marriage or a maiden name. This resulted in a link to an adoption search site where an adoptee was looking for her family. She listed her birth mother using the exact name I had come across. What truly sealed the connection was her mention of an older sister named “Joan.” BINGO!
The next hour was a whirlwind as I sent emails to every possible contact I could find and messaged Joan on Facebook. At around 2 a.m., I went to bed, knowing tomorrow could be pivotal. If I was right, I was going to reveal to a woman that I had found her sister—only to tell her that her mother and brother had tragically died nearly 15 years prior.
The morning began with a Facebook message from Joan, expressing her willingness to speak on the phone. It broke my heart to have to deliver such devastating news about her mother over a call. Still, I found solace in being able to tell her just moments later that I had located her sister. Now, it was a waiting game—would any of my emails, posts, or calls reach Jamie?
As I spread the paperwork across the lunch table at work, I used my iPad to search for additional contact numbers for Jamie. I was determined to find her—I owed that to Joan. Just as I prepared to return to my office, my cell phone rang. Jamie had finally received my message. I was certain she would discover the dozen other messages I’d left for her online by the end of the week. Yes, she had posted on the adoption site. Yes, she had a sister named Joan. And thankfully, yes, she was already aware of her mother and younger brother’s tragic deaths.
I couldn’t wait to call Joan. However, as she had warned me, her phone signal prevented me from completing the call. I quickly typed a message on her Facebook page: “I found her! I found her! Call me!!!!”
We spoke briefly. As much as I wanted to share in the joy of their discovery, I felt it was important for the two sisters to connect directly. It had been over 20 years since they last communicated. Memories from their childhood flooded back—Joan had been adopted by one family, while the middle sisters were adopted together into another home. Tragically, the youngest child, the only son, lost his life at the hands of a murderer before turning ten. The search for the youngest sister continues, a project I will tackle tomorrow.
So tonight, less than 24 hours after this journey began, two of the sisters have driven to meet each other, with a full reunion planned for the weekend. While I am thrilled to have reunited these remarkable women, I know that I didn’t do it alone. They say we all have a guardian angel. Mine has been with me throughout some of the most unusual cases, and as long as she remains at my side, I will continue this work—there is no other feeling quite like it!I