Here we are again

 Dear Damien

I don’t know how I will spend my day on your missing day.

I will probably, like the previous 27 years, recall your known movements the last time you were seen, minute by minute.  Recalling the known facts around the case, which are very sparse. I will recall the insane emotional roller coaster ride. We are still on it!  The ups and downs of hope. Weathering the storms of anxiety and heartaches that come with it all. Not knowing for certain is the worst part. Having no idea or hint of a reason. Nothing to explain it any of it.

I still hear from people who contact me with information. They feel compelled to mention, even now, in hushed whispers, something that might help us. 

They come to me because they do not trust police, they tell me. So I pass things to the cold case officer and rarely hear anything back!

Police did their best to not investigate this as a possible murder. Despite all the information provided. Including descriptions of his death -  of his head being kicked like a football.  Or squealing in pain as he was being stuck with a pitchfork. Fed to pigs. Put into a lobster pot and fed to fishes. Burned in a carpet. Surely not all those things happened ! But they are all in my head now.

Arrests were eventually made after 14 years. The case raised to suspected murder. It went nowhere.  After that lapse of time they couldn’t pin it on anyone. One dead. One who would brag about his involvement when drunk. CPS let him go. The case reverted to a missing case.

The entire debacle goes back to a shoddy, flawed, initial handling and a ‘non-investigation’ of a missing 16-year-old boy.

They suggested to me you had gone off on a ‘funny five minutes’ to quote the desk sergeant who took my statement when I reported my child missing. With a bemused smirk in his face said these words that haunt me, “he will be home by tea time. All young boys do this.”  If only I knew then what I know now. I would have been less deferential and more assertive. I told them it was out of character.  Why did they try to infer different?

Assertiveness came over time! Out of exasperation and frustration.

As one officer put it, who had carried out the first complaint we made about the loss of CCTV evidence, ‘the information they lost would have been a gift to any investigation.’ Irreparable damage to this case.

What is left for us to do but wonder? How things might have been, should have been. Would we have had some resolution?

November 2 in some countries is ‘the day of the dead’ paying respects to ancestors who rise and walk among us that day.  For us, we have no grave to go to and pay respects.

We don’t even know for sure he is dead.

So many rambling thoughts.  Did he have memory loss?  Was he taken by someone? Drugged? Trafficked? Murdered? Drowned? Buried? Coerced into something sinister? All we know is he is not with us.  We don’t know why.  We miss him beyond any words to describe.

Words don’t do this experience of ‘missing’ justice.  There are no words to describe the emptiness and the fear I feel for my son.  The helplessness. The deep sadness that I carry in my soul.

There is no finality, no burial. No place to go and pay respects.  Just a lonely emptiness and fear.

I find some solace in writing about it.  Also, participating in work groups to improve how future cases are handled. Giving back, sharing lived experience in hopes of change in how these cases are handled.

I understand the incredible burden on already over stretched police budgets and lack of staff. It wasn’t this bad in 1996 but I was always made aware they had more important things to do.  Cases like Damien’s get lost between the cracks between runaways, trafficked and county lines. We have no information supporting a reason he would want to go. All we know about our son the night he vanished, he had drank strong cider.  Was seen with strangers (soldiers) before he vanished. Also near the sea. Last seen on CCTV a few mins after midnight on Nov 3. The weather was bad, so walking along the coast road highly unlikely as Damien would have chosen the sheltered route, inland, where he began to walk with his friend who claims they parted ways at 10:30pm to walk home.

We may never know.  All these thoughts have  plagued us over what will be 28 years on November 2.

 

We will continue this life sentence until we die unless by some miracle we find some answers.

We have 16 years of lovely happy memories of you Damien. You still make us laugh when we talk about you and things you said and did.  You are now an urban legend on the Island we love and had so many wonderful times when we lived there. 

I think you are still there somewhere.

We just want to find you. 

You can read more about this case in my book,

The Boy Who Disappeared 

Available from Amazon, Audible, Kindle and bookshops, Goodreads. 

There will always be another case

There will always be another missing person case.

There will always be disparity in coverage of different cases based on police assessment.

It will never be enough, until the missing are found!

Publicity is all in timing and a media rush for a story.  The scent of money, reward, bit of scandal, perceived or otherwise, it does not matter to the blood sucking cry of the hunt, it does not discriminate.

We assume police will do something and we will get answers we long for. However, in many cases, it becomes plain, it is not going to happen like we hope.

For a myriad of operational reasons police often fall short of expectations. Understaffed, over worked and missing is the least of their concerns.  It’s a social problem in their eyes. Declare the case cold and walk away.

People go missing daily

There is not enough space to accommodate them all on TV programs or in newspaper stories. It is a gloomy moment when you realize it is not your loved one anymore but somebody else who is in the news and missing. Although my heart hurts for another family, it feels very desolate when things are not happening for your child. You are no longer newsworthy, out of the picture an afterthought. Not sale-able, not intriguing enough, not close enough for media convenience.  No longer ‘relevant.’ Alone.

Some cases get more attention, and it is not clear why. It just happens that way and for a brief moment attention is back on the subject of the missing. Which is a positive until it’s forgotten about again.

Accepting loss of media interest took time.  It was anguish and distress heaped onto heartache.  We had to be satisfied with what little publicity we could to get and be glad of it.

I never thought I would have a 28-year career which I never expected, imagined, or wanted. But, it is my son whose life still beats in my heart & soul. Nine months in my body made sure of that link. I think about him daily, doing what I can to keep him in the public eye.

I want him back, in whatever form that might be.

Still searching for answers.

Sadly, this is not unique to us.  Dozens of others who have lost a loved one linger in this limbo of ambiguous loss.  Never giving up.  In some cases, dying before the answers come. Decades later DNA confirms their loved one found is found, but too late. Remains, waiting in a box on a shelf, to be reunited with a name and any remaining loved ones left to care.  It is the best hope we have.

We may never know the how or why they disappeared but that no longer matters so much anymore.  We want them back. Giving them a dignified burial is the best we hope for and if justice comes too, then fine. We will deal with that too.

Hyenas

Having a missing loved one places ordinary people, families left behind to cope, with a lifelong burden.  In our case it’s our son, he was 16 and vanished.

Most of the time journalists are responsible taking time to speak with family and if possible, police.

Without reiterating the details of the case, because it is well documented, I want to talk about the sharks out there.

We families become ‘prey’ for would be bloggers and podcasters who run amok with pen or keyboard without fact checking.  Ripping the skin off those left behind with heartless abandon, creating more theories, more fodder for gossip. One ‘distorted fact’ becomes part of the fabric of the story and as such creates more misinformation for the next amateur.  The sad part? It is out of our control.  I google my son’s name and a zillion random things come up.

It is especially disappointing when I am told someone is writing about my son and I ask them to please stick to the facts, just to find out they have created yet more baseless theories.

Our son is an urban legend. In the public domain and fair game. We are victims without any protection or recourse.

U.K. Long Term Missing Cases

MAY 2024

We have finally been appointed a new cold case officer after a year of asking for updates which have been spasmodic and dismissive then finding we actually didn’t have a case worker at all due to staff changes.   

Something has to change.  Families and friends of LONG TERM missing need better communication from the police.  I appreciate there are staffing issues and many threats in society they have to deal with.  But a email reply with some reassurance we are not forgotten and more importantly our missing person is not forgotten - shouldn’t be too time consuming.

It should be a frustrated family to nudge them for feedback, especially  when information, that may or may not be relevant, has been passed to them.  We deserve an update. Who else can you give it to?  Ultimately it’s the police.

My son going missing is, still, out of character and suspicious. The disappearance of our son is surrounded by much controversy and speculation that he was murdered.  Yet this case, in 27+ years been a MisPers case except briefly a suspected murder when arrests were made and searches done.  14 years after he vanished. Too late!  Then back to MisPers and now Cold Case. The sad truth is unless we make a fuss, it would all just go away like it never happened.  We need change in attitude.  It’s a human being - missing.  We may never find out what happened.  But that doesn’t mean we have to give up trying to get to the truth.

 

Since DNA keeps getting more advanced we hear of cases where remains were found shortly after a person went missing.  However, not identified till decades later due to the advances in DNA.  So there is hope.  It may not give us all the answers.  But finally being able to lay that person to rest and having some resolution would go some way to giving peace to the loved ones and a decent burial for a much loved family member. 

 

It’s a social dilemma.  The numbers of missing are chronic.  Many choose to go missing for a myriad of reasons which is a different slant on the issue and incredibly important too. But many just vanish without any reason and there are not the resources available to stay with a case, except for a few high profile cases - vast numbers of cases are in limbo along with family, friends, co-workers and community at large. 

 

I am going to do what I can to help by raising awareness and sharing my experience with those who are working for change.  But it’s a long haul effort but hopefully one day attitudes will improve surrounding the missing issue. Thanks for reading.

I have written a personal account of living through this unsolicited career of ‘mother of a missing teen.’ But it’s a career I am fiercely dedicated to!

https://www.amazon.com/Boy-Who-Disappeared-Valerie-Nettles/dp/1789460719?dplnkId=88497b60-b56f-41bc-916a-a49eb2ef8b29&nodl=1

Manifesting Christmas

So many good memories live on in my heart from childhood to the moment of writing this.

I reflect on the changes.

It took a tragic loss - and other somewhat expected losses to deplete the joy of holidays, birthdays and otherwise warmly anticipated celebrations.

 

The hardest has definitely been Christmas.  I count some losses in my family as anticipated, having had time to adapt to expectations of the inevitable.  Painful, yet leaving us with happy joyous memories that continue to fill my heart at this time of year.  More importantly, having a place to lay flowers, pay respects and lingering awhile in memories means so much.

 

With gratitude for those memories and traditions we built upon and created a space of happiness for our remaining children at Christmas.  But when the fabric of your little family is torn away, revealing a gaping hole, the magic becomes harder to attain.   Every year a resounding, deafening feeling of loss lingers at the center of our universe.  Engendering the ever-present thoughts and questions - what happened? How did it happen? Did It happen? Or, has he found another life? That grim rollercoaster of not knowing is incessantly percolating.

 

So building upon the scaffolding of times gone by, we endeavored to re-create the ambiance of Christmas. We decorated and baked and played the part. It wasn’t the same. The heart leaden and the soul colder.

 

We are the ones left behind to cope with the unsolved and missing loved ones still in our hearts – every day. Missing but ever present.  Ambiguous loss. (Pauline Boss)

 

I live a life between memories ever defined as ‘before and after’ our wee beautiful boy vanished into the dark November night without a trace.

 

Valerie Nettles

Christmas #27

December 2023

 

Heartless

 The case got cold as I got old but your still out there somewhere. 

No closer to truth than at the start.

We cannot forget you either.

So every day, near three decades now

We hope to get the answer

Birthdays came and birthdays went

All without your laughter

Heavy hearts prevail most days

For your sweet life there is no respite

But to carry a ball and chain

Seeking justice in solitude and darkness

Unseen

In the gloom we are not alone

So many there like us

Lives un-lived looking for the lost

Cast adrift

And  it’s heartless. 

Damien’s 27th missing day

We are still hopeful one day we will have some finality to Damien’s disappearance. In the meantime, this is still a dream.

The reality? We live in this world of missing persons.  We are surrounded by a fraternity of families across the globe who, like ours, wait in a quiet desperation for answers. 

Suffering ambiguous loss as they live a life not fully engaged in the present & lingering in the past.

Every opportunity for light to shine on their loved one's case brings a moment of renewed energy in the midst of flagging confusion, loss and hope. 

Val Nettles Nov 2, 2023

Ambiguous Loss

Memories fizzle & pop

 Stars shine bright in early morning light.  As ever, my mind wanders to you Damien as I ponder your fate.  There is no way to know how you left us.

Rattling through my mind, memories, pop and fizzle like an old black & white cine film.  Your life, fast forwards jerkily, faded snippets of happy times, birthdays, Christmas, and laughter.  The film fizzles, melts to the whirring of an empty reel, a life unfinished, nothing but silence now. Terrifying visions haunt quiet moments. 

I know somewhere under these stars you wait for us, alone. You know I am always looking for you and one day will find you.  Have to. But time is running out, my son.

Touch paper

Ambiguous grief

The sensitivity of the situation has not diminished, but easier to talk about.  What used to be a trigger or touch paper moment, igniting swells of grief and emotion in the moment, are somewhat controlled. Not always.

I have learned to live in it and around it. It’s an open wound and is not healing, but the edges are less sharp. Sometimes. Tears of loss, inconsolable, quietly run amok in my heart and are only mine to know. #ambiguousloss #greif #missing #damiennettles #justicefordamien 

Time to move on….

 Life, for us, stopped the moment our son vanished without trace.  We haven’t “moved on” and I can’t think how we can unless we forget he existed.  It might appear we have because we didn’t disappear.  We are still here.  Life continues its path.  But now we live two lives.  One foot in the present and one foot firmly in the past.   We are not ready to give up on his life and cast him aside. A memory of inconsequence. He deserves to be found because we don’t think he was allowed to make a choice for himself.  Was it an accident? However, no body was ever found. Or, did someone choose his fate for him? We may never know.  

We hope time will tell. Until it does, we are still living in that moment when we knew he had vanished out of character.  That awful dawning realization, that fateful knowledge, we are in this for the long haul.  

 

I am sure it’s meant well when it’s suggested we have to ‘move on.’ It is incomprehensible to those who haven’t been in this situation to imagine how stuck we are in this ongoing grief.  It has a name Ambiguous Loss.  There are thousands like me living this loss, desperately hoping one day to get answers.

 

No matter how long it’s been - it is still an open wound. We have learned to live around the emptiness of it.  But we cannot walk away and ‘move on.’

FORGOTTEN

Behind a face of coping lives a deep sadness that simmers within a grief laden heart.

Tears fall, un-witnessed, into a void where hope clings and is nourished.

Hard to explain.  Physical pain.

My boy is still missing. Cast adrift.

Time and opportunity ticking by. 

Life, getting shorter.

Silence deafening, resounding.

When I was young

 I wish I had known.

 

When I was raising 4 young children spanning a 10-year age difference, I didn’t know the stress and anxiety was just a fleeting moment in my life. A husband busy working to keep us fed and housed.  I often felt neglected and alone with the burden of being a mother and housekeeper and later holding down a job.

 I didn’t appreciate that it was not forever.  When I was overwhelmed by life and feeling like a failure. It felt like a life sentence, and I couldn’t see past today.

I could not see a light at the end of the tunnel.  Looking back it was the most important fulfilling time of my life.  When I was the center of my children’s world, and my home was our safe haven.  I didn’t know that with all the ensuing stresses, school, job, making dinner, taking kids her and there.  Finding the money for trips and clothes and shoes.  All the anxieties.  

It was temporary.   A short time in a long life.  Now they are grown and gone with families of their own.

One is gone it seems forever. So how I wish I could reverse time and go back to those hectic frantic exhausting times.  When I had all my little eggs in one basket.  When life was whole. Treasure the moments because time moves forward regardless so don’t wish away the best of it. It’s not forever.

Calamity

 Calamity

Moving forward with life blissfully unaware.  Comfortable in your predictable bubble as you know it. Getting on with mundane daily life events.  When WHAM a brick wall smacks right into you without warning.  

Breath smacked right out of you. Will you ever breathe again?  Life is never the same. You look back yearning with hunger for that time when life had a level of certainty, familiarity and safety.  It’s gone.  But life keeps moving you forwards. Like froth on the tip of a wave. Shoving you forward in this new normal then sucking you back into memories. Facets of your life pulled back together like shattered glass. Forever cracked by an event nobody could have predicted. Cobbled together and strung in pain. 

Brick Wall

People ask me how I cope? The realization hit me like a brick wall

 

I don’t ‘live’ I exist. I am not depressed I am filled with sadness. I have reached a point in my life where I just sit and listen to the silence.  As I listen I reflect on how I got here.  Like an old cine’ film the past replays.   There used to be color in my life. My childhood.  Warmth and happiness.  Parents, grandparents and siblings.  Vibrancy and possibilities. Noise.   Children to nurture and visions of how their lives would evolve and who they would become. Visions of happy family gatherings.  Meet ups and play dates and friends with positive lives moving forward much like mine.  The future exciting. Careers, comfortable home and happy existence was all we ever hoped for.

 

Boom.  My son vanished at age 16.

 

Fast forward to today.  The past still on replay but now disjointed. Exhausting. Confusing. Desperate. Reflections of horror, sadness and loss hauntingly fill the void.  Fragmented thoughts  – coming at me in bits as I cling to them in hope.  I try desperately to tie them together.  Failing.   Reaching out for help.  Looking for an arm to hold onto.  But I am alone.  Searching every last memory and moment for a clue to end this bitter crushing pang of fear.

 

What happened.

He must be dead.  How?  Was he suffering.  Was he hurt.  Did he Cry.  Think of us?  Cry for us.

Did he know?  Out there somewhere and alone in his darkness he waits. Thoughts like this slip into my mind and slip out again leaving emptiness.

 

I listen in silence witness to all the unspeakable possibilities.  Waiting for truth and Justice called ‘hope.’

Almost 27 years and we still have some hope we might find the answer.  

I recently read a comment on another much more recent case and the author shouted the case should be closed.  If he knew the pain and the suffering endured by thousands who are the same place as me.  Looking for help and answers.  He might begin to understand. 

People are not disposable commodities.  

To Damien

 I don’t know how to shake this feeling of perpetual anxiety.  It’s gnawing and tugging inwardly in my mind and in my soul.

 

Never a day passes where I don’t think of you Damien.

 

This feeling has sat with me daily since you went missing.  26 years and counting my son without your voice,  your humor and your smile and your very being. The constant tug and pull aches of how much I miss you.  I think about you as I go about my daily routines.  As if I might seem normal, though it is grossly abnormal. Seen by anyone who did not know my son vanished might never suspect the pain inside my heart.  

 

I wish you could have been with me longer.  I know something bad happened to take you from us dearest boy.   It’s not your fault.

 

I just wish I knew.  I wish I could find an answer to make sense of all of this inner turmoil I suffer.  But suffer it all I will in hopes of knowing the truth one day.

Mother of Missing Damien Nettles. I will never give up hope. Author: The Boy Who Disappeared non-fiction/true crime ISBN: 9781789460711 enquires via website.