In a poignant and alarming update to the baffling disappearance of two Florida attorneys during a routine fishing trip, the son of Randall Spivey has come forward with deeply personal insights into his father’s state of mind leading up to the incident. Speaking exclusively in a recent interview amid the ongoing federal investigation, Randall Spivey Jr., known as Randy, expressed grave concerns that the tragedy may not have been a mere accident. “My father has shown some unusual signs recently regarding his mental and physical health,” Randy revealed, his voice heavy with emotion. “It’s very possible he did this intentionally. He was a highly experienced boater—accidents like this are extremely rare for someone like him.”

The comments, made just days after the U.S. Coast Guard suspended its massive search-and-rescue operation on December 22, 2025, have added a layer of complexity and heartbreak to an already mysterious case. Randall Spivey, 57, a prominent Fort Myers personal injury lawyer and founder of Spivey Law Firm, vanished alongside his nephew, Brandon Billmaier, 33, a trial attorney at Boca Raton’s Shiner Law Group, during what was supposed to be a relaxing day of deep-sea fishing in the Gulf of Mexico. Their 42-foot Freeman catamaran, aptly named “Unstopp-A-Bull,” was discovered adrift and unmanned about 70 miles offshore from Fort Myers early on December 20, its engines still running and in gear, but with no trace of the men aboard.

Randy’s statements have sparked widespread speculation and renewed scrutiny from investigators, including the FBI, which took over the case following the Coast Guard’s suspension. While initial theories pointed to a freak accident—perhaps a rogue wave, medical emergency, or mechanical failure—Randy’s revelations suggest deeper personal turmoil may have played a role. “Dad was always the picture of caution on the water,” Randy explained. “He’s been boating his entire life, fishing every couple of weeks for decades. I’ve been out with him hundreds of times, and he knows every protocol, every safety measure. For something like this to happen by accident? It’s one in a million. It just doesn’t add up unless… unless it was deliberate.”

Spivey, described by colleagues as a dedicated advocate for injury victims with over 30 years in the field, was known for his larger-than-life personality and commitment to family. Standing at 6’1″ and weighing about 245 pounds, with brown hair and eyes, he often sported khaki shorts and a red t-shirt on outings, as he did that fateful Friday morning when he and Billmaier launched from a Fort Myers marina before dawn. The pair, bound by blood and a shared passion for fishing, planned to target bottom-dwelling species like grouper and snapper some 100 miles out. They were expected home by sunset, but when no contact came, their wives—Tricia Spivey and Deborah Billmaier—raised the alarm around 9 p.m.

The Coast Guard’s response was swift and exhaustive: a four-day operation covering over 6,700 square miles, equivalent to the size of Connecticut, involving helicopters, cutters, fixed-wing aircraft, and good Samaritan vessels. Conditions were relatively mild—10 mph winds and 3-foot seas—yet no signs of the men surfaced. The boat’s discovery by a Clearwater-based helicopter crew provided the first major clue: intact, with fishing gear strewn about, personal items like cell phones and wallets untouched, and no activated distress beacons or radio calls. A rescue swimmer boarded, secured the vessel, and it was towed back to Station Fort Myers Beach for forensic examination.

Investigators noted peculiarities: the engines were engaged, throttle forward, and fuel nearly depleted, indicating the boat had been running unmanned for hours, possibly on a straight path or slight drift. GPS data showed deviation from the return route, ending in open waters far from logical fishing spots. “That’s not a position a person would steer it to,” one source familiar with the probe commented, fueling early theories of an abrupt overboard incident. Missing life jackets and a white life ring offered faint hope that the men had donned them, but extensive searches yielded nothing.

Randy’s concerns about his father’s health emerged amid this void of answers. In his interview, he detailed subtle but worrisome changes in the months prior. “Dad seemed more withdrawn lately, not his usual self,” Randy said. “There were signs—forgetfulness, mood swings, maybe some physical fatigue he brushed off. He was dealing with a lot: the stresses of running a successful firm, family responsibilities, and perhaps some unspoken burdens. Looking back, I wish we’d pushed harder for him to see someone.” While Randy stopped short of specifying diagnoses, his words align with broader discussions on mental health in high-pressure professions like law, where burnout and depression can lurk beneath professional facades.

The possibility of intentional action—a deliberate overboard leap or self-inflicted harm—has haunted the family. Randy’s phrasing, “It’s very possible he did this intentionally,” underscores a painful reality check. “I don’t want to believe it, but given how experienced he was, it’s hard to see it any other way,” he added. “Brandon was with him—maybe he tried to help, and things went wrong. We may never know.” This sentiment echoes the family’s joint statement post-suspension: gratitude for the search efforts while affirming confidence that if the men were afloat, they would have been found. Yet, Randy vowed to continue privately, appealing to boaters and pilots for volunteer searches, offering rewards for leads.

Billmaier, a Michigan native who relocated to Florida for his legal career, was remembered as an “exceptional person and great lawyer” by Shiner Law Group. At 5’10” and 170 pounds, with brown hair and eyes, he often wore a blue long-sleeve shirt and gray shorts. Colleagues praised his humility, positive energy, and dedication, while his wife Deborah’s social media plea for information went viral, highlighting the couple’s close bond.

The FBI’s involvement signals a shift to missing persons inquiry, probing for foul play, though none is suspected yet. Forensic teams analyze the boat’s electronics, fuel logs, and trace evidence, while satellite imagery and witness accounts are reviewed. No history of disputes or financial woes has surfaced, but Randy’s health revelations prompt deeper dives into medical records and communications.

This case spotlights the Gulf’s dangers, even for veterans. Boating experts note overboard falls can occur swiftly—slips on wet decks, sudden jolts— with survival odds plummeting without immediate rescue. The absence of distress signals perplexes, as Spivey’s boat was equipped with EPIRBs and radios. “He was the safest guy out there,” Randy reiterated. “This wasn’t recklessness.”

Communities in Fort Myers and Boca Raton rally with vigils and funds for search continuations. Tributes flood in: Spivey as a mentor who “touched countless lives,” Billmaier as a “ray of sunshine.” As Christmas passed without closure, families clung to memories—Spivey’s barbecues, Billmaier’s pickleball games.

Randy’s words humanize the enigma, urging awareness of mental health. “If Dad was struggling, I wish he’d said more,” he reflected. “Talk to someone—don’t let it build.” Whether accident or intent, the loss devastates, leaving a void in Florida’s legal world and two families forever changed.