Lost but not forgotten: Antigua’s haunting epidemic of missing persons

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By Algernon Watts

I’ve been on several search-and-rescue missions, and I’ve seen the raw, aching pain that lingers in the eyes of those left behind. There’s no closure—just a troubling void, a never-ending cycle of hope, despair, and helplessness. This is the grim reality facing the family of 43-year-old Donna-Marie Christian. They recently made a desperate plea for help to find her clinging to the hope that someone has the answers they so desperately need. This call triggered a response from a group called The Concerned Citizens along with a number of helpful, hopeful citizens who turned out in their numbers to assist in the search.

Donna-Marie’s disappearance, however, isn’t an isolated tragedy. She is one name in an ever-growing shadow of mystery—a list of lives stolen, families torn apart, and a nation left to wonder. Visit the Facebook page True Crimes, Missing Persons, Unsolved Murders, and Other Crimes in Antigua, and you’ll find name after name: Cecilia Tonge, Casbert Jeffers, Hyacinth Gage, Mispah Luke, Kerriann Joshua, Noah Hurst, Kemba Marshall and many more. 

These aren’t just statistics. They are mothers who kissed their children goodbye in the morning, never to return. Sons who never made it home for dinner. Friends we laughed with, neighbours we waved to, people whose faces now haunt us in missing posters and social media posts. Their absence reverberates, shaking the fragile trust we hold in our small island community.

The silence from those in power is deafening. How can so many go missing in a place so small? How can the authorities fail to connect the dots? Each passing day without answers deepens the wound, stokes fear, and raises uncomfortable questions: Is enough really being done?

It’s terrifying to think that there is no dedicated task force and no centralised system to track these cases. I spoke to a senior police officer and was stunned to learn they couldn’t even produce a list of Antigua’s missing persons. Without an official record, how can patterns be uncovered? How can cases be solved? It’s as if these lives have slipped through the cracks, unnoticed by the systems meant to protect them.

Elsewhere, even modest measures—a public database, consistent media updates, or a small, dedicated investigative unit—have proven effective in bringing missing persons home. Here, families are left to shoulder the burden alone, endlessly searching, endlessly grieving.

Every case carries its own haunting story. A parent clutching a faded photograph, children crying themselves to sleep, a spouse waiting by the door for someone who will never walk through it again. Imagine that agony, the sorrow, the despair. Imagine living it every single day.

The longer these cases remain unsolved, the darker the shadow over our island grows. Are we becoming numb? Are we accepting that people can simply vanish without a trace, without a fight to bring them back? The thought is as frightening as it is infuriating.

But the fear doesn’t stop with those already missing. It spreads, infecting every one of us. If Donna-Marie could disappear, who’s next? Could it be your sister? Your child? You?

We must demand more from our leaders, from our law enforcement, from ourselves. The police need to stop letting these names fade into obscurity. A dedicated media program could bring updates, encourage community action, and keep these stories alive. At Newsco, we are ready to provide that platform—but the authorities must step up.

Regional and international cooperation could also crack open these cold cases. Borders shouldn’t be barriers to finding the missing. Families deserve the chance to reunite with their loved ones—or at the very least, to know the truth of what happened to them.

Every minute that passes without action, another family plunges deeper into despair. In a place as small as Antigua and Barbuda, the disappearance of even one person sends shockwaves through our nation. 

We cannot let these names, these lives, disappear into silence. Share their stories. Spread their faces. And pray—pray for strength, for hope, and for justice.

But prayers alone won’t bring them back. Action will. As a nation, we must rise together and refuse to let these stories fade. Because if we let them vanish without answers, without a fight, what does that say about us? About the safety of our home? About the value of a human life?

This is not just their tragedy—it’s ours. And it’s time we did something about it.

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