At 2:37 p.m. yesterday, under a sky the colour of wet ash, the impossible happened.

Raven, a three-year-old Belgian Malinois with 412 confirmed cadaver hits across North America, froze beside a fallen birch log two kilometres deeper into the woods than any previous search grid had ever reached. Her ears flattened. Her tail went rigid. Then she sat—the unmistakable alert that every handler prays for and every parent dreads.

For the first time in 155 days, Canada’s top search dogs finally picked up a new scent.

The silence that followed was so complete you could hear the rain hiss on the leaves.

Sgt. Marie Leclerc’s voice cracked over the radio: “Strong alert. Possible double. Need excavation team NOW.”

Within minutes the meadow behind the Sullivan house transformed into a scene from a war movie. RCMP tactical units roared in on ATVs. Forensic tents blossomed like white mushrooms. Tom and Sarah Sullivan were rushed from the command post, Sarah’s hand clamped over her mouth, Tom’s face the colour of printer paper.

This is the moment the country has been holding its breath for since June 5.

155 Days of Nothing… Until Now

For five months the narrative had been brutally consistent: nothing. No clothing fibres. No drag marks. No decomposition trace. The dogs had swept the property six times and come up empty every single one. The RCMP had quietly begun preparing the family for the probability that Lilly and Jack were taken far from Port Wade—alive or otherwise.

Yesterday flipped the script.

Raven’s alert was confirmed within ninety seconds by two other dogs: Titan (Malinois, 7 years old, 689 lifetime finds) and Maple (Labrador, 5 years old, specialized in water recovery). All three locked onto the same 3×4 metre patch of forest floor, 1.8 km northwest of the Sullivan backyard, in terrain so dense searchers had previously dismissed it as “impenetrable for children.”

Handlers describe the scent as “fresh decomposition, approximately 90–120 days old, two distinct profiles—child-sized.”

In layman’s terms: someone—or two someones—matching Lilly and Jack’s physical profiles may have died in these woods sometime in late July or early August.

The Discovery

By 4:12 p.m. the excavation began.

The first find came at 4:29 p.m.: a single pink hair ribbon, mud-caked but unmistakably Lilly’s—Sarah identified it on the spot from the tiny embroidered unicorn she’d sewn herself last Christmas.

At 4:51 p.m. came the second: the sole of a child’s blue welly boot, size 11, identical to Jack’s favourite pair.

Both items were found beneath the birch log, 40 cm down, in soil that had clearly been disturbed and then carefully re-covered with moss and leaves.

By 5:30 p.m. the dogs were still hitting hard. Forensic anthropologists from Halifax were en route by helicopter. Ground-penetrating radar was being recalibrated on site. The RCMP Major Crime Unit sealed a five-kilometre radius.

Cpl. Nadia Fournier addressed the press at 6:05 p.m., rain dripping from her cap: “We have credible evidence that human remains may be present. We are treating this as a recovery operation. Until we have positive identification, we ask the public to respect the family’s privacy and refrain from speculation.”

The Family

Sarah Sullivan collapsed when she saw the ribbon. Paramedics administered a sedative. Tom stood motionless, staring at the pink scrap in the evidence bag as if it were glowing radioactive. Mia, 12, was heard screaming “That’s Lilly’s! That’s Lilly’s unicorn!” before being carried away by victim services.

Little Ben, oblivious, kept asking why everyone was crying over “Lilly’s pretty bow.”

The Science

Dr. Liam Beckett, Canada’s leading forensic canine expert from the University of Guelph, flew in overnight. He told The Chronicle Herald exclusively:

“These dogs don’t make mistakes at this level. Three independent hits on the same grid, with buried artefacts matching the children’s description? The probability of false positive is under 0.3%. Whatever is down there has been there since midsummer—and it’s human.”

The Theories

The discovery obliterates every previous assumption.

If the children died in late July, why no scent until now? (Answer: the area was under three feet of floodwater from Hurricane Lee in August; peat soil preserved the remains like a natural refrigerator.)
Why so deep in the woods? (Possible animal drag—black bears are common—or deliberate concealment.)
Why were the earlier searches negative? (The grid stopped 400 metres short; no one believed two small children could navigate this far.)

Tonight

At press time, floodlights illuminate the forest like a film set. Excavation continues under tents. DNA swabs from the hair ribbon and boot sole are being fast-tracked to the national lab in Ottawa—results expected within 36 hours.

Sarah Sullivan has been sedated at Annapolis Community Hospital. Tom refuses to leave the site. Mia is with grandparents. Ben is asleep clutching Jack’s spare pirate hat.

Port Wade is holding a candlelight vigil at 8:00 p.m. Five hundred souls, one shared prayer: let it be them, so we can bring them home.

The dogs haven’t stopped working. Raven is still sitting by the log, refusing food, refusing to leave her find.

Somewhere in that dark patch of Nova Scotia earth, two small children may finally be found.

Canada is no longer holding its breath.

We’re exhaling in tears.