In a gut-wrenching revelation that’s amplifying fears in the desperate search for missing 15-year-old Thomas Medlin, his mother Eva Yan has disclosed a chilling detail: the bright Long Island teen had been regularly chatting late into the night with an online “friend” he met on Roblox—a connection so close and compatible that Thomas frequently mentioned how well they got along, sharing conversations that stretched deep into the wee hours.

The bombshell admission from Eva, delivered through tear-streaked interviews, paints a haunting picture of a seemingly innocent online bond that may have spiraled into real-world danger. “He talked about this friend a lot,” she confided, her voice trembling with regret and terror. “They clicked so well, he said. They’d chat until really late—sometimes way past when he should have been sleeping.” Those late-night exchanges, once dismissed as typical teenage gaming talk, now loom as a potential red flag in what authorities suspect was a carefully orchestrated lure pulling Thomas from his safe suburban home straight into the unpredictable streets of New York City.

Thomas vanished on January 9, 2026, in a scene straight out of every parent’s nightmare. After classes at Stony Brook School, the 15-year-old bolted from campus around 3:30 p.m., sprinting to the nearby Long Island Rail Road station instead of heading home. He boarded a train to Manhattan, arriving at the bustling Grand Central Terminal by 5:30 p.m.—captured in eerie surveillance footage showing the bespectacled boy in his signature black jacket with red stripes, dark sweatpants, backpack slung casually, looking every bit the excited kid on an adventure. That was the last verified glimpse. No calls home. No texts. Nothing but agonizing silence stretching nearly three weeks.

Detectives piecing together the puzzle quickly zeroed in on Roblox, the blockbuster gaming platform where millions of kids build, play, and socialize daily. Eva revealed that Thomas had grown particularly attached to one online acquaintance—someone he described as understanding, fun, and perfectly in sync with his interests in music, arts, and gaming. “He was always so happy talking about it,” she said, wiping away tears. “This person made him feel seen.” The chats, often extending late at night, reportedly revolved around shared game worlds, jokes, and personal stories—building trust brick by virtual brick. What started as in-game banter escalated to something Thomas clearly valued deeply, enough to risk everything for an in-person meetup.

The family insists this behavior was wildly out of character. Thomas was the golden boy: award-winning in music and sports, excelling academically, beloved by teachers, friends, and neighbors in quiet St. James. “He has never left our side,” Eva pleaded in one emotional sit-down. “Everyone loves him. This isn’t him.” His father, James Medlin, echoed the disbelief: “I just can’t believe why he left in the first place.” Yet the late-night Roblox chats suggest a secret world Thomas kept hidden, perhaps fearing judgment or simply caught up in the thrill of a new friendship.

Roblox, facing mounting scrutiny, conducted an internal sweep of Thomas’s account and issued a statement insisting no alarms were raised: no sharing of phone numbers, usernames for off-platform contact, no redirects to private messaging apps—all interactions stayed within “typical in-game discussions,” with no voice chat detected. The company vows full cooperation with Suffolk County Police, touting safety tools like chat filters and parental controls that can disable messaging entirely. Critics, however, slam the platform as a known hunting ground for predators, where groomers exploit kids’ trust through games before pushing for real-life encounters. Ongoing lawsuits and attorney general probes accuse Roblox of prioritizing engagement over protection, allowing dangerous connections to flourish under the radar.

As the search drags into its third week, the late-night chat revelation has intensified urgency. Police traced early pings to Lower Manhattan near Cherry and Rutgers Streets, then Brooklyn around Sands and Jay—areas teeming with crowds, subways, and hidden corners where a vulnerable teen could vanish. A prior CCTV clip from a nearby residence showed a boy eerily matching Thomas walking with an unidentified adult man blocks from Grand Central that fateful evening, fueling speculation that the “friend” was no peer at all. Volunteers scour parks, shelters, and transit hubs daily, battling brutal winter weather that’s dumped snow and plunged temperatures to dangerous lows. Flyers blanket the city; social media alerts go viral. Every tip line rings with hope—and dread.

Eva Yan’s voice cuts through the noise like a knife: “If you’re out there, if someone knows where he is, please just tell us he’s safe.” She clings to the belief that Thomas, kind-hearted and trusting, may still think he’s with a friend. But with no sightings, no demands, and those late-night chats now seen as grooming breadcrumbs, the nightmare scenario haunts everyone: a predator capitalized on a boy’s loneliness, turning pixels into peril.

The National Center for Missing & Exploited Children assists, amplifying alerts nationwide. Suffolk County detectives beg the public: If you saw a teen matching Thomas—5’4″, 130 lbs, brown hair, brown eyes, glasses—or recognize anyone from those Roblox circles, call Fourth Squad at 631-854-8452 or 911 immediately. Time is slipping away in the frozen city.

Thomas Medlin sought connection in a virtual world. Now his family fights to bring him back from whatever real-world trap those late-night messages led to. A mother’s plea echoes louder than ever: Come home, Thomas. We’re waiting.