Nova Scotia has been gripped by concern since Lily (6) and Jack Sullivan (4) disappeared from their rural home on May 2. The RCMP launched a large-scale search using drones, dogs, volunteers, and divers.

 What raised eyebrows, however, was the lack of an Amber Alert—a national system designed for urgent, disappearing child cases.

The RCMP later clarified that an Amber Alert wasn’t issued because there was no clear evidence of abduction, which is a requirement for activation. Instead, they issued a “vulnerable missing persons advisory” and a localized cellphone broadcast. Critics argue this was not enough, citing the children’s possible autism diagnosis and their tendency to wander off, which could have compounded risks.

Community leaders, including Chief Michelle Glasgow of the Sipekne’katik First Nation, voiced frustration and called for a national alert system that’s more inclusive of indigenous children and rural communities. The family sought broader public engagement, urging neighbors to remain vigilant even as official alert systems remained silent.

With days turning into weeks and no sign of Lily and Jack entering the woods—or any trail captured on camera or by witnesses—many now wonder if crucial early hours were lost. The RCMP transitioned to a narrower investigation around the home while the public called for expanded searches beyond provincial borders.

What This Means for Canadian Parents & Communities

An Amber Alert isn’t automatic—it hinges on proof of abduction.

In rural and remote areas, missing-persons issues may not be treated with the urgency they demand.

Community-driven searches, localized alerts, and public cooperation often fill alert system gaps.

Calls are growing for national protocols that ensure all missing children—regardless of location or circumstances—get full emergency response.

The truth remains elusive—Lily and Jack are still missing. But this case exposes a deeper issue in Canada’s emergency response: when to sound the alarm, how far to spread it, and who gets left out. Many parents now wonder: would your child be protected?

The disappearance of Lily and Jack Sullivan has sent shockwaves through Nova Scotia and the rest of Canada. But beyond the heartbreak of two young children vanishing without a trace lies a growing outcry over the Royal Canadian Mounted Police’s response — particularly the decision not to issue an Amber Alert. The absence of this critical early-warning system has led to widespread condemnation, accusations of negligence, and serious questions about whether the RCMP followed its own protocols.

Lily Sullivan, 6, and her brother Jack, 4, were reported missing from their home near Gerlock Road in Landown Station on the morning of May 2, 2025. Their mother, Malia Brooks-Murray, made a 911 call at 9:11 a.m. claiming she had just woken up to find the children missing. There were no signs of forced entry, though the back sliding door had been left open — a detail that would later draw intense scrutiny. Within hours, officers arrived and began a search, but despite the urgency and the tender ages of the children, no Amber Alert was ever activated.

In Canada, an Amber Alert is issued only under specific criteria: the child must be under 18, there must be a belief that the child has been abducted, the child is believed to be in danger, and enough descriptive information must be available to assist in the search. All four boxes seemed to have been ticked in the case of Lily and Jack. They were well under 18. They were missing from home under suspicious circumstances. The sliding door suggested a possible unauthorized exit or entry. And investigators had a general time of disappearance and even a possible sighting of a black Honda CR-V in the area.

So why wasn’t the alert issued?

When asked directly, the RCMP provided no concrete answer. Instead, they cited “ongoing operational assessments” and “incomplete information” at the time. But critics argue that such explanations don’t hold up under scrutiny. In many child abduction cases, alerts are issued based on far less. Public safety officials have triggered Amber Alerts for children last seen leaving malls, or walking away from homes, or even after suspected parental custody disputes — all under the assumption that early information can save lives.

In this case, authorities had a tight timeline. Malia’s 911 call was placed less than 10 minutes after she awoke. The children were reportedly in the home the night before. There was a sliding door left ajar. Police reportedly believed the children were no longer on the property. And yet, no immediate action was taken to mobilize the public.

By the time media outlets began reporting on the case later that day, the lack of an Amber Alert had become a central point of contention. On social media, #WhereIsTheAlert began trending locally by 4:00 p.m. Parents and local residents expressed disbelief that no widespread notification had been made. No highway signs. No alerts to cell phones. No immediate effort to engage the eyes and ears of the public.

Instead, police focused their initial efforts on a ground search of nearby woods. They brought in K9 units, drones, and even ATVs. But they didn’t lock down roads, question motorists, or issue guidance to residents in surrounding communities. Without the Amber Alert, thousands of people who could have been potential witnesses remained unaware that two children were even missing.

That lost time is what continues to haunt this investigation.

Criminologists and child protection advocates have since pointed to the decision as a glaring failure. “The Amber Alert system was created for exactly this kind of situation,” said Dr. Fiona Marks, a professor of criminology at the University of British Columbia. “We’re not talking about two teenagers who might have run away. We’re talking about two very young children, gone without a trace, from inside their own home. The default should have been to issue the alert.”

Adding further confusion, a possible abduction scenario was never fully ruled out. Although the children’s scent was traced by search dogs to the end of the driveway, it didn’t extend into the woods. That suggested a possible vehicle pickup. A black Honda CR-V was reported in the area that morning — a detail confirmed by local residents — but RCMP never said whether that vehicle was tracked down. No license plate was released. No BOLO (be-on-the-lookout) went out to neighboring jurisdictions.

And then there’s the issue of the scene itself. The family’s home was not immediately secured. In the hours following the report, friends, neighbors, and even volunteers entered the house freely. Any forensic evidence that might have indicated an abduction — footprints, smudges, foreign DNA — could have been compromised. The very foundation of any effective Amber Alert, which depends on actionable details, may have been eroded in the critical first hours.

The question of motive behind the RCMP’s decision remains unanswered. Some speculate that internal protocol required a higher burden of proof — that officers were unwilling to label the children as “abducted” without definitive evidence. Others believe that early assumptions led investigators to pursue a “wandering off” theory, despite the lack of supporting clues.

Whatever the reasoning, public confidence has eroded.

At the May 7 press conference, when pressed directly by reporters about the Amber Alert, Superintendent Lana Morin declined to elaborate. “Every decision in this investigation was made with the safety of Lily and Jack in mind,” she said. “At the time, we assessed the information available and acted accordingly.”

But for the families, for the community, and for the broader public, that’s not enough. Many have pointed out that a system designed to be fast, loud, and broad — the very hallmarks of the Amber Alert — was inexplicably quiet. And in that silence, precious opportunities may have slipped away.

The Amber Alert system isn’t perfect. It has its critics. But in high-risk cases involving small children, it’s the most immediate tool law enforcement has to enlist the public’s help. Studies in both Canada and the U.S. have shown that early public awareness drastically increases recovery chances in the first 24 hours.

In Landown Station, that chance may have been missed.

Now, over two months later, the Sullivan case remains unsolved. No suspects have been named. No trace of Lily or Jack has been found. The public is still waiting. And the RCMP, despite growing demands for transparency, has yet to fully explain its decisions.

If there is one thing that unites this fractured and emotional search for the truth, it’s this: the lives of two children should never be subject to bureaucratic hesitation. When children go missing, alerts should be automatic, not optional. And if the system failed Lily and Jack Sullivan, Canadians deserve to know why — and how it will be prevented in the future.