Jack and Lily Sullivan disappeared on Friday, May 2, 2025, from their rural home in Nova Scotia.
According to their mother, at around 10 a.m. she heard her four and six year old children playing in the next room in their home on Gairloch Road in Lansdowne Station, Pictou County. When she later checked on them, they were gone, having seemingly left via the patio door.
The children’s stepfather claimed that the siblings had been kept home from school on the Friday, and the previous day, because Lilly had a cough. There was no school on that Wednesday because it was a professional development day for teachers.
Police and volunteers have conducted several searches for the children. The home borders a heavily wooded area with steep banks and thick brush. According to the stepfather, a piece of blanket that was found in the early days of the search belonged to Lilly.
The Nova Scotia government is offering up to $150,000 for infor

The sun rose quietly over rural Nova Scotia on Friday, May 2, 2025, but for one family living along Gairloch Road in Lansdowne Station, the day would soon shatter into silence, confusion, and panic. Sometime between morning playtime and the first cup of coffee, four-year-old Jack Sullivan and his six-year-old sister Lilly vanished without a trace. What began as a morning like any other has since spiraled into one of the most perplexing child disappearances in recent Canadian history.

Their mother, Erin Sullivan, told authorities that she heard her children laughing and playing in the next room around 10:00 a.m. As she busied herself with chores in the kitchen, she assumed they were safe and content, as they often were. But when she stepped into the room minutes later, they were gone. The back patio door—unlocked—was ajar. Beyond it stretched a vast expanse of dense woods, steep banks, and thick brush.

The children, barefoot and dressed in play clothes, had seemingly walked off into the wilderness. No screams. No signs of struggle. Just an open door and an empty room.

The initial police response was swift. By midday, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police had arrived on the scene, joined by neighbors, search-and-rescue teams, and local volunteers. Drones buzzed overhead. Dogs scoured the underbrush. Helicopters hovered above tree lines. The area behind the Sullivan home, difficult and tangled with nature, was combed for any trace of the missing siblings. But as the hours passed, hope began to give way to unease.

It wasn’t just the suddenness of the children’s disappearance that baffled investigators—it was the context. According to Daniel Martell, the children’s stepfather, both Jack and Lilly had been kept home from school that Friday because Lilly had a lingering cough. He told police that they’d also missed school the day before, and that Wednesday had been a professional development day for teachers. For three consecutive days, the children were home—unusual, but not unheard of. However, as timelines were reconstructed and statements were cross-checked, doubts and inconsistencies began to surface.

One of the earliest clues came in the form of a torn blanket fragment found not far from the property during the initial sweep. Martell identified the piece as belonging to Lilly, confirming it was from a comforter she used regularly. But no further evidence—clothing, footprints, dropped toys—was ever recovered in that area. Investigators have not ruled out the possibility that the blanket was placed there deliberately.

The children’s disappearance has left a vacuum in the small, tight-knit community of Pictou County. Residents have organized vigils, coordinated search parties, and even brought in private tracking experts. Yet, more than two months later, the woods remain eerily silent, the trails cold.

Suspicion, as it often does in cases like this, has crept in with time. Questions swirled online about the timeline. Why was the patio door left unlocked? Could two children so young have wandered so far without leaving a trail? What exactly were their movements in the hours—or days—leading up to May 2?

Stepfather Daniel Martell has been interviewed several times by police and remains a central figure in the investigation, though no charges have been filed. His statements about the children’s whereabouts, health, and routine during those final days have been scrutinized for consistency. Some community members expressed quiet concern over what they describe as “calculated” public statements, such as Martell’s now-viral text message that was shared during a livestream in June. In the message, he emphasized key details with repeated exclamation points, including the assertion that the children “were not seen at the mall!!” and that “RCMP were called before 10:00 a.m. and took 12 minutes to arrive!!” Critics argue these details feel oddly rehearsed, as though designed to preempt suspicion.

Adding to the complexity, investigators have not ruled out foul play, though they have stopped short of declaring the case a criminal abduction. “All possibilities remain on the table,” one officer stated during a June press briefing. “At this point, we cannot confirm whether the children wandered off, were taken, or encountered some tragic accident in the woods.”

The surrounding terrain presents its own challenges. The wooded area behind the Sullivan home is expansive and rugged, with rocky outcrops, thick pine groves, and sudden drop-offs into creeks and bogs. Search dogs reportedly lost the children’s scent within meters of the patio door—an anomaly that prompted theories ranging from early-stage weather interference to the chilling possibility that they were placed in a vehicle.

In an effort to generate new leads, the Nova Scotia government announced a $150,000 reward for credible information leading to the whereabouts of Jack and Lilly Sullivan. “We believe someone knows something,” said Premier Colleen Garrison. “We’re asking for the public’s help—no matter how small the tip may seem.”

Tips have come in—hundreds of them. Some credible. Many not. Sightings as far away as New Brunswick and as close as Halifax have been reported, though none have been confirmed. Law enforcement continues to cross-reference leads and analyze call logs, CCTV footage, and witness statements. Ground-penetrating radar has even been deployed in select areas of interest.

For Erin Sullivan, each day is a quiet horror. In her few public comments, she has expressed a mixture of disbelief and determination. “They were here,” she said during a vigil in late June. “They were just here, in the next room. And then they weren’t.”

She hasn’t stopped placing stuffed animals and flowers on the edge of the woods where the children may have exited. She hasn’t stopped hoping.

As summer stretches on, the mystery deepens. What began as a rural missing persons report has become a case filled with national tension and unspeakable questions. Without answers, the community of Lansdowne Station lives in suspended grief—torn between hope and the aching weight of absence.

Some still believe Jack and Lilly will walk out of the woods. Others believe they were taken. And still others whisper theories too painful to say aloud.

mation about the disappearance of siblings Lilly and Jack Sullivan.