The tragic death of Linda Brown, the 53-year-old special education teacher at Robert Healy Elementary School in Chicago, has taken a deeply personal and sorrowful turn with the discovery of a suicide note she wrote herself. Her husband, Antwon Brown, found the letter in their Bronzeville home shortly after her body was recovered from Lake Michigan on January 12, 2026. The note provides insight into the profound mental health struggles that led her to leave home in the early hours of January 3 and ultimately take her own life by drowning, bringing some painful clarity to a mystery that gripped the city for over a week.

Linda Brown was a beloved figure in her school and community, known for her unwavering dedication to students with special needs. Colleagues and former pupils described her as patient, compassionate, and a source of genuine hope. She had a way of making everyone feel safe and valued, with her laughter and warmth leaving lasting impressions on thousands over her years of teaching. Principal Erin Kamradt of Healy Elementary shared the school’s grief in a message to families, noting that the loss would evoke many emotions and that crisis support was being provided for students and staff.

The events unfolded quietly at first. On the night of January 2, Linda and Antwon spent a peaceful evening watching a movie together before bed. Antwon awoke the next morning to find her gone, along with her purse, credit cards, and keys to her blue Honda Civic. She had mentioned an upcoming acupuncture appointment that day in Wicker Park, which she never attended. Family later explained that Linda had been on medical leave, actively seeking help for mounting mental health challenges, including near-daily panic attacks that had intensified toward the end of winter break. She was scheduled to return to work on January 6, but the weight of her struggles proved too heavy.

Surveillance footage later released showed her parking near 35th Street and Lake Park Avenue around 3 a.m., stepping out alone dressed in a black winter hat, coat, pants, and rubber snow boots, and walking toward the 35th Street pedestrian bridge overlooking Lake Michigan. There was no footage of her returning to the car or crossing back. The images of her solitary figure heading into the darkness became haunting symbols of her final moments, fueling a massive search effort by family, friends, volunteers, and Chicago Police marine units.

For nine agonizing days, loved ones refused to give up hope. They combed the lakefront, distributed flyers, and retraced her steps while clinging to the possibility she might still be found alive. Then, on January 12, police recovered her body from the 31st Street Harbor, about 2.5 miles from her home. The Cook County Medical Examiner’s Office conducted an autopsy the following day, ruling the cause of death as drowning and classifying it as suicide. Toxicology results were pending, but no foul play was suspected.

In the immediate aftermath, Antwon and the family received the devastating news. Amid the grief, Antwon discovered the note Linda had left behind—hidden in a place only he would look. The letter, written in her own hand, detailed the depth of her pain, the exhaustion from battling ongoing mental health issues, and her sense that she could no longer continue. It expressed profound love for her husband, family, students, and the life she had built, while explaining why she felt compelled to end it. The contents were kept private by the family, who asked for respect during their mourning, but the existence of the note has provided a measure of understanding to those closest to her.

Relatives, including her niece Jen Rivera, spoke of Linda’s lifelong struggles with mental health, which had worsened recently. Rivera emphasized that Linda was open about her challenges and had been receiving support, but the panic attacks had become overwhelming. “I wish she knew how much of an impact she had and how much she was loved,” Rivera said, highlighting the disconnect between Linda’s self-perception and the profound positive influence she had on others.

The note’s revelation has amplified calls for greater awareness around mental health, particularly among educators who often carry heavy emotional loads. Chicago Mayor Brandon Johnson, a former CPS teacher himself, expressed deep sadness over the loss, praising Linda’s immeasurable impact on young lives and the Bridgeport community. He offered prayers for her family and students as they grieve.

The discovery of the letter has also brought a bittersweet element of closure. While it cannot erase the pain, it allows those left behind to better comprehend the silent battle Linda fought. Her husband, described by family as “beside himself” after losing the love of his life, now faces the task of healing while honoring her memory.

Linda Brown’s story serves as a stark reminder of the hidden struggles many endure, even those who appear strong and giving to the world. Her legacy endures through the hope she instilled in her students, the warmth she shared with colleagues, and the love she expressed in her final words. As the community rallies with grief counseling and tributes, the focus turns to supporting one another and breaking the silence around mental health. Resources like the 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline remain available 24/7 for anyone in need.

In the end, Linda Brown’s note is a final act of honesty from a woman who gave so much to others. It reveals the reasons behind her heartbreaking choice, allowing her loved ones to remember not just the tragedy, but the depth of her pain—and the immense love she held for them all.