Malehya Brooks-Murray, the 28-year-old mother at the center of one of Canada’s most haunting missing children cases, has laid bare her daily torment six months after her kids—Lilly, 6, and Jack, 4—vanished from their rural Nova Scotia trailer. In an exclusive interview with The Chronicle Herald published November 5, 2025, Brooks-Murray described a grief so consuming that even routine errands turn into emotional minefields. “I walk into a store and all I see is things they love,” she said, voice cracking. “The candy they like, the clothes they wear, the toys they love—all I see is them.”

The siblings disappeared from their Lansdowne Station home on May 2, 2025, after Brooks-Murray briefly stepped outside around 9 a.m. to check on animals. She returned minutes later to silence. The RCMP’s massive search—160 volunteers, K9 units, drones, helicopters, and divers—turned up nothing. Newly unsealed court docs this week revealed neighbors heard a vehicle “idling and moving” near the property around 3 a.m., but police say no footage backs it up and the case remains a missing persons probe, not criminal.

Brooks-Murray, who shares a younger daughter with partner Daniel Martell, has cooperated fully—passing a polygraph, handing over phones, and granting full property access. Both she and Martell were cleared early. The children’s biological father, out of their lives for three years, was also ruled out.

“I love my children more than life itself,” she told the paper, clutching a framed photo of Lilly in pigtails and Jack with his gap-toothed grin. “The longing to hold them, kiss them, breathe in their scent, tuck them in—it’s a pain I can’t put into words. Not one second goes by that I’m not thinking of them.”

Daily life is a gauntlet. Grocery runs trigger breakdowns in the cereal aisle—Lilly loved Froot Loops, Jack went for Lucky Charms. Clothing sections are worse. “I see a purple shirt—her favorite color—and I grab it, thinking, ‘When they come home…’” Her voice trails off. She still buys the snacks, the toys, the tiny socks—stashing them in a hope chest under her bed.

Sleep is rare. “I wake up reaching for them,” she said. “Their beds are still made, stuffed animals waiting. I spray their pillows with the detergent they liked so I can smell them.” Brooks-Murray keeps their routines alive—setting two extra places at dinner, reading Gabby’s Dollhouse books aloud like Lilly loved, singing the dinosaur songs Jack demanded on repeat.

The family briefly split under strain—Brooks-Murray stayed with relatives for weeks—but she’s back in Pictou County now, joining volunteer searches organized by Please Bring Me Home. She walks the same woods daily, calling their names until her throat gives out. “I know they’re out there,” she insists. “Someone saw something.”

RCMP Acting Staff Sgt. Rob McCamon confirmed the investigation is active, with forensic results still pending. A $150,000 reward stands. “We follow every lead,” he said. “This family deserves answers.”

Brooks-Murray’s raw words have struck a chord online. #MomsHeart is trending, with parents sharing photos of their own kids’ empty bedsides in solidarity. One post from user @NovaMomStrong reads: “Malehya, we see you. We’re searching with you.” It’s been shared 12,000 times.

She ended the interview with a direct plea: “If you know anything—anything at all—call. Bring my babies home so I can stop buying candy for ghosts.”