In the heart of the Appalachian Mountains, deep in the hollows of West Virginia coal country, a local man's 2011 disappearance remains unsolved.
Coal CountryRural, unincorporated towns popped up around early coal mining operations. Little company stores served the community, streets of identical row houses were built for miners and their families, and the miners put their lives on the line for a paycheck. Many never made it out of the mines and those who did were often left with an incurable parting gift: Coal Workers' Pneumoconiosis or "Black Lung". For those that lived in these rural areas, mining wasn't so much a choice as it was an inevitability. Your grandfather was a miner, your father was a miner, and so on. You worked in the coal industry or you got out of town at the first opportunity. These towns were built around and failed by coal mining. The promise of earning an honest living drew people in, but the physical and mental toll of the work manifested in many ways: alcoholism, PTSD, divorce, domestic violence, terminal illness, and drug addiction. As the years went on and the once-thriving mines began shutting down, the coal communities suffered. Where one generation suffered the long-term effects of working in the mines, their children's generation fell victim to the opioid crisis.
Despite his efforts to live a responsible, successful and happy life, Brian became one of hundreds of thousands of Americans ensnared by opioids. Addiction doesn't care if you have a good job, a happy home life, or a family that you love. Once that seed is planted, addiction can take root and overwhelm the rational, healthy parts of you. No one wakes up one day and says, "I think I'll become a drug addict today!" but there are currently about 115 people who die every day as a result of their addiction. All this to say, Brian was enjoying life with his wife and daughter, but things took a sudden turn that none of them could have prepared for. "When you can stop, you don't want to, and when you want to stop, you can't." - Luke Davies The happy, healthy family life that Brian had built with his wife and daughter could not withstand the power of addiction. Though the three of them shared the bond of immense love, his wife saw Brian going down a path that wasn't safe for or fair to their daughter. She made the difficult decision to separate from Brian, hoping that it would be a wake-up call for him. As time went on, Brian's addiction continued and the two would divorce, but they stayed in touch and he tried to be the loving father for their daughter. His calls were frequent, whether he would get a chance to talk to their daughter or not. Brian was in contact with family and friends often, though he never wanted to join the trend of social media platforms like MySpace or Facebook. He wasn't a fan of technology, but he valued the relationships with the people that he loved. If you were important to Brian, you knew it. He did not trust people easily, or at all in many cases, but addiction can form relationships that fly in the face of your sober sensibilities. While his loved ones understood that addiction is a hurdle that some people never get past, they also knew that Brian was strong and determined (or stubborn, depending on who you ask). I get the impression that Brian hadn't resigned himself to a future of addiction, to being this Brian for the rest of his life. He knew that he had people rooting for him, praying that recovery would come. On July 15, 2011, Brian's father passed away after a long battle with "black lung". With his passing, Brian would inherit between $10,000-$15,000. His girlfriend at the time, who he lived with (and who was also an addict), was listed in the obituary. Word had gotten around that Brian came into money, unsurprisingly in such a small town where a pocketful of cash can turn into a target on your back if you're not careful. Brian had been told by a local member of law enforcement to "put [the money] somewhere safe, don't be waving it around" because some people would hurt or kill him to get their hands on it. Brian took the advice and locked the cash away in a little locking safebox, gave one key to his girlfriend and kept one key for himself. With his money locked away, Brian planned to spend some of it to purchase a vehicle. He had made arrangements to go visit his daughter, expecting to make the trip at the end of July. It had been a while since Brian had a vehicle, and the freedom that came with it was exciting for him. He had arranged to meet with his late-father's wife to purchase one of his dad's vehicles (that he, honestly, should have inherited...but that's a can of worms I won't open today). ![]() Two weeks after the loss of Brian's father, another heartbreak would befall the Cook family. This time, though, there would be no funeral to say goodbye, no gravesite to lay flowers upon, no closure. Around July 28th of 2011, 37-year-old Brian David Cook was disappeared. He did not just disappear, someone made him disappear. 10 years after he was last seen, it has become painfully obvious that Brian died back in July 2011. He never got to see his daughter that summer. He never got another chance to tell her that he loves her. He didn't get the opportunity to start rebuilding his life. There are a lot of questions that remain "officially" unanswered. Where is Brian? What happened to his money? Who was involved? Why has this been allowed to continue for 10+ years? In Part 2 about Brian's case, we'll go over the investigation (or lack thereof, in some aspects), the opinions of the local grapevine, and what I've been able to do so far.
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EmilyTrue crime, cold case, long-term missing/unidentified, and all things mystery. I've always been interested, but now I'm involved in the search. Archives
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Photos used under Creative Commons from Jinx!, Damian Gadal