WHERE ARE LILLY & JACK? Siblings Vanish from Remote Cabin – Stepdad’s Story Keeps Changing
Lilly Sullivan (9) and her little brother Jack (6) disappeared without a trace on May 1st—last seen outside their family’s remote property in northern British Columbia. And nearly seven weeks later, no confirmed sightings, no physical evidence… just unsettling silence.

Now, cracks are showing in the story told by their mother and her partner, Daniel Martell, and the timeline is getting murkier by the day.

 Lilly is described as playful and bright, 4’5″, with long brown hair and green eyes. Jack is shy but energetic, about 3’8″, with short dark hair and hazel eyes.

 The family says the kids were “outside playing” near their forest-surrounded cabin. But neither parent seems sure when they last saw them—and their accounts don’t match.

 Two Versions of the Same Morning – But They Don’t Add Up Mother Mallaya says:

“The next thing we knew, it was quiet. I asked Daniel if he heard the kids. He said no. We got up instantly, started searching and calling for them. I instantly called 911.”
 Stepfather Daniel now says:

“Mallaya and the baby were asleep. I wasn’t in a deep sleep. After about 20 minutes, I noticed the kids weren’t around. I ran to their cabin. When I got back, Mallaya was already on the phone with RCMP.”

These timelines are in conflict. Who woke up first? Who noticed the kids missing? Who called 911? And why did 20 crucial minutes pass before either of them moved?

 The RCMP has not publicly named any suspects, but the lack of physical evidence, the remote setting, and inconsistent statements have led many to suspect foul play. And here’s the strange part: no signs of abduction, no signs they wandered into the woods, no clues at all.

 HAVE YOU SEEN ANYTHING?
If you were near the Riverspine Forest area or Tern Lake trails between April 30 – May 1, even the smallest detail could help.

 Call 911 or Crime Stoppers at 1-800-222-TIPS if you saw a red pickup, a young girl and boy near a forest line, or anything out of place.
 These children did not simply vanish. The timeline is broken. And someone out there knows the truth.

Please—don’t scroll past this. Share their faces. Talk about their names.

Lilly and Jack Sullivan should be home by now—laughing in their backyard, tracking frogs along the forest edge, pestering their mother for another snack. Instead, it’s been nearly seven weeks since the siblings vanished from a remote cabin in northern British Columbia. Not a single confirmed sighting. Not a shoe print. Not even a dropped toy.

On the morning of May 1st, 2025, Lilly, 9, and Jack, 6, were reportedly playing outside their family’s isolated property near the Riverspine Forest Reserve. According to their mother, Mallaya Sullivan, the children were “just out front,” within eyesight of the cabin where she, their baby sibling, and her partner Daniel Martell had been staying. Then, without warning, the forest went quiet.

That silence has now stretched into a gaping mystery—and investigators are growing increasingly concerned. Despite an expansive search effort involving RCMP officers, dogs, aerial scans, and dozens of trained volunteers, no physical evidence of Lilly and Jack has been found. Their names have become a rallying cry across social media. Their faces are taped to telephone poles and trail maps. But answers remain elusive.

The public’s anxiety has only deepened in recent days, as inconsistencies emerge between the parents’ accounts of that morning. And now, many are asking the uncomfortable but necessary question: did something happen inside that home before the children ever reached the forest?

In her initial statement to police, Mallaya claimed she and Daniel were both awake and noticed the children were quiet. “The next thing we knew, it was just… too quiet,” she said. “I asked Daniel if he’d heard the kids. He said no. We got up right away and started searching. I called 911 immediately.”

But Daniel’s more recent account, shared during an interview with local reporters, offers a conflicting sequence of events. “Mallaya and the baby were asleep,” he said. “I wasn’t in a deep sleep myself. After about 20 minutes, I noticed the kids weren’t around. I ran to their cabin first. When I got back, Mallaya was already on the phone with RCMP.”

The contradictions are glaring. Who woke first? Who realized the children were gone? Who made the call for help? And why did Daniel wait—by his own admission—twenty minutes before checking?

In an investigation where every second matters, these gaps are hard to ignore. RCMP officials have confirmed they are aware of the inconsistencies but have not named any suspects. They maintain that “all possibilities remain under investigation.”

Forensic teams combed the surrounding terrain for weeks, using infrared drones and scent-tracking dogs trained to detect even the most subtle trace. Despite the dense wilderness and frequent wildlife activity in the area, authorities remain baffled by the lack of physical clues. “It’s almost like the forest didn’t touch them,” said one search team volunteer. “No trail, no broken twigs, no signs of an animal interaction. Just… nothing.”

What also troubles investigators is the near-total silence in digital evidence. No surveillance footage has surfaced. No witness has reported seeing the children in the days before May 1. No one recalls a red pickup truck—another vehicle that police have asked the public to watch for—leaving the area. It’s as if the Sullivan family’s small cabin had been a sealed box in the days leading up to the children’s disappearance.

Lilly is described as playful and curious, 4’5”, with long brown hair and green eyes. Jack, smaller and more reserved, is 3’8”, with short dark hair and hazel eyes. According to family friends, the two were inseparable. “Wherever Lilly went, Jack followed,” said a neighbor who declined to be named. “She was like a little guardian for him.”

The terrain surrounding their home is rugged and unforgiving, filled with sheer ravines, cold creeks, and predator habitats. But the RCMP is now leaning away from the theory that the children simply wandered off and got lost. It’s not that they’ve ruled it out—it’s that it no longer fits what they’re seeing, or more accurately, not seeing.

Adding to the urgency is the fact that someone might have seen something—but not realized it mattered. Police have expanded their appeal to anyone who was near the Tern Lake trail system, forestry access roads, or the Riverspine Forest corridor between April 30 and May 1. Even a fleeting glimpse—a red pickup, a child at the treeline, a sound in the woods—could hold a critical key.

As time slips by, concern is mounting that this case may be heading toward a tragic outcome. But for now, the children are still listed as missing—not lost, not deceased. Missing. And in that distinction, there remains a sliver of hope.

The Sullivan family has not made further public appearances in recent days, though Mallaya issued a written statement last week asking for compassion. “Please keep sharing their faces,” she wrote. “Keep their names alive. We are broken, but we are not giving up.”

The reward fund for information currently sits at $100,000, raised through community efforts and private donors. Tips continue to pour in, but none have yet resulted in a breakthrough.

This case has become a national riddle—a hole in the wilderness, a silence that won’t explain itself. Somewhere between two versions of a morning, two children disappeared.

What happened in that cabin? What happened in those crucial 20 minutes? And how did the forest remain untouched?

If you were near the Riverspine Forest area or Tern Lake access roads between April 30 and May 1, please contact Crime Stoppers at 1-800-222-TIPS. If you saw a red pickup, a young girl and boy near a trail, or anything that seemed out of place, you are urged to come forward.

These children did not simply vanish. And someone out there knows why.