Archive | Brianne Wolgram – Pleas RSS feed for this section

For Brianne – From Cathy

29 Aug

I will never forget the last words you ever spoke to me. Ironically they were “Bye, Cathy.”

I was rushing out of McDonalds eager to get home after a long shift. You were still working and as I hurried out, you noticed me and said goodbye. I remember turning around and seeing you smile.

“Oh, See you later!” I said. But that was not to be.

Although we were never really close, I have a lot of treasured memories with you. You and I were very similar; shy at first, sometimes quiet and withdrawn, but given the right situation outgoing and funny. I remember working with you at McDonalds, and the two of us laughing so loud in the back that Dino had to tell us to be quiet because the customers could hear us. I remember working out at the gym with you, both of us agonizing over the fact that we were not “skinny”. We drove around town aimlessly, singing out the window and changing words to songs. Most of all I remember that our lockers were side by side for a few years and you always said hi to me, something that meant more than you’ll ever know during my early high school years when I was very shy.

When I first heard the news you had been missing for a few days, my first thought was that you just went somewhere and would be coming back. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, I think it was just beyond my comprehension at that age that something could have actually happened to you. It was beyond all of us. Even that December I remember going out for coffee with several of our friends “Brianne will be back” one of them said. We believed it with all of our hearts and souls that one day you would just walk back from wherever it was you had gone. We held on to that hope. I put the picture I took of your beautiful smile at dry grad up on my wall and attached the blue ribbon to it. Hope never dies. You would come home. Safe and sound and soon.

Somehow those months turned into years. 1998 turned into 1999, then 2000, then 2005… And so on. And somehow you were still not back. As we grew up, I think we began to let ourselves realise that maybe you wouldn’t just show up, smiling and ok and sorry for the worry. My thoughts turned to what had happened to you and hoping the police and Missing Children would find the answers. Then unimaginably, it neared a decade since I had last seen you and I decided that instead of just hoping someone would find answers, I would search for the answers myself.

I often wonder what you would be doing right now if you were still with us. Your grad write-up in the year book you said you wanted to travel and get married. I wonder if you would have travelled with me, or gone to Kelowna or Calgary to go to college like a lot of us did. I wonder if you would be married by now; kids maybe? You would have been at the grad reunion, and instead of signing a picture of you, we would have been laughing and joking with you. You would have your own Facebook page instead of a group dedicated to your memory.

I think a lot about the people that know where you are. I’m sure someone does. People do not just vanish. Someone knows, and for thirteen long years they have been silent. Many of us believe that whatever happened that night, it wasn’t meant to happen. Perhaps it was just an accident and no one is to blame, yet fear has been holding someone back. It is time for them to speak now, whether anonymously or not. I’m sure they feel like the hour of opportunity has passed. They must think, “Well, it’s been this long, I can’t speak now.” They must feel that they would be judged for waiting so long to speak. I would like to tell you, if you are reading this that I believe the opposite would be true. When you speak, you will be resolving a long painful issue for everyone involved- family, friends, the entire town of Revelstoke, and those that do not know us, but are nevertheless concerned. You would be releasing yourself from the agony that you undoubtedly feel everyday, you would release us from our nightmare, and most importantly you would be releasing Brianne to let her come home. Think of the difference you would be making in so many lives. Please make thirteen our lucky number.

I will never give up on you, Brianne. For as long as I live I will be searching for the answers and encouraging others to do the same. Sometimes it overwhelms me and I have to let it go for a little while and live my life. If I am no good to myself, I am no good to you. But rest assured that soon enough, something reminds me of you and I feel strong enough to search again; so I can make true what I said to you that August day in 1998-

“See you later Brianne”

A letter unsent – July 2011 (almost 13 years since disappearance)

13 Jul

Dear Brianne,

Another Labour Day approaches
Far too many years have passed
No one has solved your now cold-case
Why must this torture last?

I definitely miss your smile the most
You always made me laugh
We’ve had so many memories
But something stopped you in your path.

A cherub angel stands alone
To save your memory
But this stone statue is not enough
We need to know your story.

What happened on that fateful night
Remains a mystery
I know that someone knows something
Why won’t they tell?  Can’t they see?

How hard this is for your family
And all who miss and love you
To tell the truth, however hard
Is something they must do.

You are often in my thoughts, my dreams
And prayers to up above
If you are with the angels now
I wish you peace and love.

I hope that soon our little town
Will break their secrecy
And finally come clean the facts
That must haunt them regularly.

Until that day, I wait for you
Brianne, my dearest friend
And if you are among the stars
Save a place for me in the end.

Love Always,

Emily

*A plea to anyone out there,
Who knows a thing or two
Rise up from in the shadows, be brave
It is time to finally come true.

Plea from Anna

31 May

As much as I think about Brianne, she is a faded, distant memory at the forefront of my mind now. Only small but significant memories exist that a friend will never forget.

Daydreams of who she would have become, what she would be doing, and how joyous her life could have been often flash through my consciousness.

And then comes the terror. Morbid thoughts of something terrible happening that fateful night that cannot be undone. Inconceivable theories involving human trafficking, abduction, confinement, cults, and/or murder. My greatest fear is that she is suffering and no one will ever be capable of bringing her justice. I sometimes clench in fear that we will never bring her home or find out what happened to her.

My optimistic side tries to tell me she left us of her own free will and is living another life somewhere. Somewhere that makes her feel fulfilled, where she’s totally unaware of the pain she is causing us. Unlikely, I realize, but it’s the only scenario I can think of with a relatively happy ending, even if it means years of torture for the rest of us.

Every possibility has crossed my mind this many years in to her disappearance.

Then, there’s you. Whoever you are. I wonder about you the most. I wonder if you are reveling in the fact that we are at your mercy. If you could really be as awful and heartless as you seem. To be honest, I have serious doubts that you are a complete sociopath with no feelings of regret.

Since I am fairly certain more than one person knows the secret of Brianne’s fate, the statistics just don’t add up. There must be at least one of you in that group of people who has been living with immense feelings of guilt because you are keeping a secret no normal person is capable of holding on to forever. That is, if you even have a desire for your mind to live freely once again. I wonder if you realize that kind of existence is comparable to a life in prison. Any sociopaths involved have a much greater “quality of life” than you do at this point.

I wonder if you have a child. What empathy do you feel for Brianne’s mother and father? Can you put yourself in their shoes and imagine living a real-life nightmare that has lasted almost twelve years? Do you stay awake at night in fear for your child’s safety? Not having any idea what has happened to them? What someone may be doing to them? Have you ever genuinely loved someone at maximum capacity? Would you gladly give your life in exchange for the life of your child?

You must not have any idea what I am talking about. You couldn’t know. No one that has experienced any of those feelings would keep such a secret from another parent. Empathy must not come easy to all of us.

This is just a mind’s eye view as a result of my own relationship as a mother; what I see as the most intense and important relationship of my life. I’m also a daughter, sister, auntie, lover, and friend, and could give those perspectives as well.

We are all victims. Victims of an unnamed crime. We can still be rescued – you must help us now.

I am literally begging for mercy. No matter your role in this, I will personally assist and support the first person who provides us with the information we so desperately seek.

Anna

Please Tell Someone What You Know

18 May

In Revelstoke, BC, on September 5th 1998, Brianne Ruth Wolgram vanished at the age of 19. Her car was discovered 5 days later, with no sign of her in it.

I strongly believe that there are people from Revelstoke that know something. I believe that more than 1 person was involved and I believe there are witnesses.

If you have valuable information (not rumors), please come forward.

If you wish to remain anonymous, that will absolutely be respected, we just need to know the truth. If the reward money is accepted, anonymity is guaranteed. If you wish, you can opt to have the reward directed to a charity.

I believe that a person with crucial information must have the desire to come forward; to clear their conscience and help relieve the pain of Brianne’s family and friends.

Our lives have stopped in time and the unknown haunts us.  11 1/2 years have passed since we have seen Brianne and we need answers now, more than ever.

Please do the right thing and tell your story, please help us find Brianne.

K

%d bloggers like this: