On a crisp spring morning in 2020, three-year-old Dylan Ehler vanished from his grandmother’s backyard on Elizabeth Street in Truro, Nova Scotia. What began as a routine playtime turned into a parent’s worst nightmare when the toddler, clad in a red dinosaur T-shirt and camouflage pants, simply disappeared. A massive six-day manhunt ensued, mobilizing ground teams, underwater divers, and aerial support. Helicopters buzzed overhead, drones scanned the terrain, and canine units sniffed through the underbrush. Yet, the only trace found was Dylan’s tiny boots, wedged in the muddy banks of Lepper Brook—a narrow creek snaking behind the property into the broader Salmon River. Police theorized he may have tumbled into the water, swept away by the current, but no body surfaced, leaving a void that time has only deepened.

Fast-forward to November 27, 2025—five agonizing years later—and Dylan’s case remains an open wound. Truro Police Service marked the anniversary with poignant social media posts, sharing age-progressed images of what Dylan might look like at eight years old: a cherubic face matured by phantom years. Volunteers from groups like Please Bring Me Home rallied in May and June, combing the riverbanks and rail lines with renewed vigor, but the earth yielded nothing. Jason Ehler, Dylan’s father, clings to hope amid skepticism. “The boots don’t add up,” he insists, fueling theories of abduction over accident. Authorities, however, dismiss foul play, noting no evidence of criminality, which bars the case from Nova Scotia’s $150,000 unsolved crimes reward program. Jason’s days blur into a ritual of searches, his heart a compass pointing to unresolved grief.

This tragedy isn’t isolated; Nova Scotia’s forests seem to swallow children whole. Just weeks ago, on May 2, 2025, siblings Lilly Sullivan, six, and Jack Sullivan, four, evaporated from their rural home on Gairloch Road in Lansdowne Station, Pictou County—about 30 kilometers from New Glasgow. Reported missing around 10 a.m., the children were last seen in pajamas, possibly wandering into the dense woods encircling their property.

Searchers aren't giving up on Dylan Ehler 5 years after going missing | PNI  Atlantic News

Their stepfather, Daniel Martell, and mother, Malehya Brooks-Murray, alerted authorities immediately, sparking a frenzy of activity. Over 150 searchers, including RCMP major crime units, behavioral analysts, and volunteers, scoured swamps, rivers, and trails for days. Helicopters thumped through the canopy, drones captured thermal signatures, and ground teams battled ticks and thorns. By May 7, the effort scaled back—no Amber Alert issued, as police eyed a non-criminal wander-off, though Martell now suspects abduction.

Six months on, Lilly and Jack’s fate hangs in limbo. RCMP’s Northeast Nova Major Crime Unit sifts through 860 tips, 8,000 video files, and forensic leads, collaborating with national missing persons centers. Court documents reveal polygraphs for family members—passed by the biological father, inconclusive for the step-grandmother—and seizures like a torn blanket fragment from the driveway. Witnesses reported odd nighttime cars near the home, but nothing verified. A $150,000 reward dangles for breakthroughs, yet the woods remain mute. Experts highlight anomalies: the kids’ recent school absences, no confirmed sightings, and the improbability of two siblings surviving unaided in rugged terrain.

For Jason Ehler, watching the Sullivans’ saga unfold is like reliving his hell. “My heart goes out—it’s overwhelming, like my nightmare on repeat,” he shared during a recent volunteer hunt. Nova Scotia’s missing children epidemic underscores systemic cracks: underfunded rural searches, vast untamed landscapes, and the psychological toll on families. Community drives, like those by Please Bring Me Home, bridge gaps, but questions persist—abduction? Accident? Cover-up? As winter looms, blanketing evidence in snow, one truth endures: these aren’t statistics; they’re sons, daughters, siblings. Until answers surface, Nova Scotia’s creeks whisper of secrets buried deep, urging us to listen closer. Will 2026 bring closure, or more echoes in the wild?