This was a strong one when I first read it. I really relate to this story because I play basketball with my friends too, and countless times I’ve walked home the same way, all sweaty and tired. A person of my age doing the same, and just never reaching home, is really a scary thought.
Brian Kelvin Andrewin went out of the court, leaving after having an ordinary game on the 10th of July in 1995. It was a warm Monday afternoon when he told his buddies he was heading home, nothing approached, and just a regular walk, but he never made it back.
His family filed a report about him being missing, while the police called him as a runaway. That tag had the effect of slowing everything down; it took away the seriousness of it from the start and made the family have to fight for every little update. It really reminds me of how people will fail to take things seriously until it is just too late.
Eight years passed before they changed his status to endangered missing child. Eight years. So many clues were gone by then. People forget things. Change places. Leads get cold.
At the time of disappearance, Brian was about five feet eight inches tall and weighed about one hundred thirty-five pounds. Almost seventeen. Now, more than thirty years have passed, and no one really knows what happened to him.
Based on everything I’ve read about the situation, I don’t think he ran away. He had friends. He had family. He left the court like just about any other day, with someone probably having seen something that afternoon.
One recurring thing is how a Black teenager was treated. A lot of people really feel that if his looks were different, the case would have caught far more attention as of day one. I’ve come across a lot of similar comments on many online forums, and frankly, it makes you think how unfair life can be.
Brian still keeps making the news after so many years. I saw lots of messages from strangers sending prayers, sharing posts, and demanding justice. With all these hopes, his family still keeps the hope that someday he will be home or that someone will finally tell the truth about him.
Any information can be provided either through the Special Victims Unit of the Chicago Police on 312 747 5789 or via the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children at 1 800 843 5678. You can remain anonymous.
Brian Kelvin Andrewin deserves answers. His family deserves peace. Thirty years is too long for silence. You may also be interested in: Rest Easy Cam: Beresford Loses Beloved 8th Grade Football Player Camdyn Meester in Tragic Accident
