The silence that has shrouded the disappearance of six-year-old Lilly Sullivan and her four-year-old brother Jack since May 2, 2025, has finally cracked open with revelations from a family member who has long stayed in the shadows. For the first time, their paternal grandmother, Belynda Gray, has broken her public silence in a series of emotional interviews, pouring out shocking details about the children’s lives before they vanished from a remote rural home in Lansdowne Station, Pictou County, Nova Scotia. Her words, raw and unflinching, expose fractured family dynamics, limited contact, and deep-seated concerns that have simmered beneath the surface for years—fueling fresh speculation, renewed urgency in the ongoing investigation, and a desperate plea for answers that have eluded authorities for nearly nine months.

Belynda Gray’s voice trembled as she spoke from her home in Upper Musquodoboit, Nova Scotia, in late 2025 interviews with outlets like CBC and CTV News Atlantic. “These are my grandchildren,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “I haven’t held them in years, but I carried them in my heart every single day. And now… now I fear I’ll never hold them again.” Gray, the mother of the children’s biological father Cody Sullivan, described a painful estrangement that began years earlier. She last saw Lilly and Jack nearly two years before their disappearance—around 2023—during what she called a brief, supervised visit marred by tension. “They were so small, so full of life,” she recalled. “Lilly with her bright eyes and endless questions, Jack giggling and clinging to his sister’s hand. But even then, I could see things weren’t right in that house.”

The rural property on Gairloch Road where the siblings lived with their mother Malehya Brooks-Murray, stepfather Daniel Martell, and their baby half-sister was isolated, surrounded by dense woods and far from neighbors. Gray painted a picture of a household under strain. She alleged that contact between her and the children had been severely restricted after custody disputes and personal conflicts escalated following her son’s separation from Brooks-Murray. “I begged to see them more,” Gray said. “I offered to drive hours just for an afternoon. But doors were slammed shut—literally and figuratively. I worried about their safety, their happiness. There were stories of instability, arguments, and a home that didn’t feel secure for little ones.”

These claims gain weight when viewed alongside other emerging details. Court documents unsealed in January 2026 shed light on the turbulent relationship between Brooks-Murray and Martell in the months leading up to May 2025. Reports describe volatile arguments, police involvement in domestic matters, and a pattern of instability that Gray says she had glimpsed from afar. “I knew something was wrong,” she insisted. “A grandmother’s intuition doesn’t lie. I prayed every night that my babies were okay, but deep down, I feared the worst.”

The morning of May 2, 2025, remains etched in collective memory as the day everything changed. Brooks-Murray called 911 around 10 a.m., reporting that the children had wandered away from the home. She told dispatchers she had last seen Lilly inside and heard Jack earlier that morning. Step-grandmother Janie Mackenzie, who lived in a trailer on the same property, later recounted waking to her dog barking—a sign the kids were outside playing—followed by an eerie silence. “After that, nothing,” Mackenzie told CBC in July 2025. Extensive searches followed: ground teams, drones, divers scouring nearby lakes and rivers, K-9 units covering dozens of kilometers. Nothing. No footprints, no clothing, no signs of struggle or accidental wandering into the thick forest.

Yet Gray’s recent statements introduce troubling new angles. She questioned the initial “wandered off” narrative, pointing to the children’s ages and the property’s layout. “Lilly was six—smart, cautious. Jack was four, but he stuck close to his sister. They weren’t the type to just disappear into the woods without a trace,” she said. Gray revealed she had heard whispers from extended family about prior incidents: children left unsupervised briefly, doors left unlocked in a remote area known for wildlife and harsh weather. “I don’t want to accuse anyone,” she added carefully, “but these are questions that need answers. Why was no one watching them that closely? What really happened in those early hours?”

Compounding the unease are developments involving Daniel Martell. In early 2026, RCMP charged him with assault, sexual assault, and forcible confinement involving an adult victim—unrelated to the children’s case but raising alarms about the household environment. Martell, in a brief response to media, denied any connection to the disappearance and expressed frustration over public speculation. Still, the charges have intensified scrutiny on the home life the Sullivan siblings experienced.

Gray’s decision to speak out comes after months of what she describes as agonizing restraint. “I stayed quiet at first because I didn’t want to interfere with the investigation,” she explained. “But time is passing, and my grandchildren are still gone. If my words bring even one new lead, one person forward with information, it’s worth every tear.” She has called for greater transparency from the RCMP, echoing frustrations shared by some community members and volunteer searchers who have described the case as unusually challenging. The province continues to offer a $150,000 reward for information leading to resolution, yet tips have dwindled as hope fades.

The children’s descriptions remain vivid in public appeals: Lilly, born March 2019, about 4 feet tall, 60 pounds, light brown hair, hazel eyes, last seen in a pink Barbie top, pink rainbow-print rubber boots, carrying a cream-colored strawberry-print backpack. Jack, born October 29, 2020, 3.5 feet tall, 40 pounds, dark blonde hair, hazel eyes, wearing a pull-up diaper, black Under Armour jogging pants, and blue dinosaur-print rubber boots. Images released by authorities show two cherubic faces—Lilly with a shy smile, Jack beaming with innocent joy—that haunt anyone who sees them.

Gray’s interviews have sparked a wave of renewed interest. Online forums buzz with theories, from tragic accidents in the wilderness to more sinister possibilities involving foul play. Volunteer groups have organized independent searches, with Gray herself planning one for late 2025. “I’ll keep looking until I can’t anymore,” she vowed. “These babies deserve that. They deserve justice, answers, closure—whatever form it takes.”

The RCMP’s Northeast Nova Major Crime Unit maintains an open investigation, exploring “all possible scenarios.” In October 2025 statements, officials appealed for information, noting no human remains had been found despite exhaustive efforts. Yet with each passing day—now approaching nine months—the odds grow slimmer, and the pain deepens for those left behind.

Belynda Gray’s breaking of silence is more than a grandmother’s grief; it’s a clarion call in a case shrouded in ambiguity. Her revelations about restricted access, family tensions, and unspoken fears paint a portrait of a childhood cut short by circumstances far from idyllic. Whether her words lead to a breakthrough or simply keep the spotlight burning, they force the world to confront an unbearable truth: two small children vanished without explanation, and the people who loved them most are left piecing together fragments in the dark.

As winter grips Nova Scotia’s forests once more, the questions loom larger. What secrets does that quiet property on Gairloch Road still hold? Who knows something and hasn’t come forward? And most hauntingly—where are Lilly and Jack Sullivan? Gray’s voice, once hushed by sorrow, now rings out with determination. The silence is broken. The search—for truth, for justice, for two lost children—must not end.