Today marks the start of National Missing Persons Week 2024. Today, 150 Australians will go missing; thankfully, most will be found, but some will not. My mum, Tina Louise Greer, is one of 2,600 long-term missing persons. The issue of missing persons is complex, as no two cases are the same. Contrary to popular belief, only 1-2% of cases are criminal in nature. People go missing for various reasons, but the majority of cases relate to mental health issues. The invisible factor that connects all missing persons is the impact on those left behind. Despite the differing circumstances, the challenges facing families are often similar. Two key themes i'll cover are ambiguous loss and the role of the media.
Ambiguous Loss
Ambiguous loss is a form of unresolved grief where finding closure is unlikely. The mental load and unresolved nature of my mum’s case impacts me differently each day. On 18 January 2012, I was staying at a friend’s house and waiting for my mum to arrive to take my friend and me for another sleepover at our house. That afternoon, I left voice message after voice message on her phone until it switched off. She never came back, and at 13 years old, my world changed forever. The initial days were clouded with feelings of chaos and numbness.
A few days later, without warning, I saw her case on the news; family members who had a severely fractured relationship with my mum were being interviewed. I felt betrayed and enraged by their public display of grief for my mum, despite their good intentions. That was the first time I self-harmed; I couldn’t express my emotions or process the situation. Missingness brings unhealed family wounds to the surface, with no way to escape them.
In the weeks that followed, kids at school would ask, “Lili, have they found your mum yet?” With each "no," I felt a sense of defeat and shame.
It started to dawn on me that my mum might not be coming back, although a part of me still held onto the hope that she would return. Talking about my mum’s disappearance became taboo in my family. Looking back, it was likely in an effort to protect me, however it did the opposite. The pain was too much for my family to handle or even speak about openly. I learned about developments in her case through TV or by Googling on the school computer.
In the months that followed, I lay awake thinking of every possible scenario and where she might be. I couldn’t drive, conduct ground searches, or do anything to help find her, so I started writing letters to my mum and to the house where she was most likely murdered. As months turned into a year, I started to suppress my grief and focused on my studies. From the outside, this seemed to be working, but I continued to dream about all the ways in which my mum might have been murdered and where her body might be.
I developed an unhealthy relationship with alcohol and would drink excessively, wanting to forget everything. Ultimately, in my twenties, I sought professional support. Although I had made progress, the one thing I could never fully “move on from” was my mum’s disappearance. I felt like no one understood. Many professionals are not equipped to deal with ambiguous loss due to its complicated nature. In a world-first initiative, thanks to The Missed Foundation and internationally renowned ambiguous loss expert Dr Sarah Wayland, Ambiguous Loss training is now available. The training provides vital professional and personal development for those who work with or are close to the loved ones of missing people.
The Role of the Media
The media plays a complex role in this issue. Missing persons cases rarely garner public attention unless people are personally touched by them or they are packaged in a true crime podcast or TV show. I have a love-hate relationship with the media; it’s a necessary tool for raising awareness and applying pressure to stakeholders, but it can also be deeply harmful, especially when reporting is not trauma-informed or fully transparent.
It's important to note that my mum is one of the fortunate ones to receive media attention. She was a beautiful, young, white woman, and I am deeply aware of the privilege her case is given, coupled with the fact that her case is “suspicious.” Unfortunately, many others do not receive the same media coverage.
Navigating the media is challenging, especially when discussing a missing loved one. You feel pressured to comply without asking questions, or so I thought.
Lowlights include reporting with undertones of blame reducing my mum to "a bikie’s girlfriend", awkwardly having to pose with a photo of my mum in a park, spending over eight hours being interviewed for a series that never aired, and being featured in a podcast to raise awareness for my mum’s case only to realise it was behind a paywall.
In comparison to other families’ stories, mine may seem trivial, but until recently, the number of negative media interactions far outweighed the positive ones. A friend, Loren O'Keeffe, founder and CEO of The Missed Foundation, explained to me that I had power in these situations and that ultimately, "the media is interested in hearing your story". Simple things like setting boundaries and asking for the questions ahead of time really go a long way.
Reflecting on National Missing Persons Week, it’s vital to remember the complexities behind each case and the profound, enduring impact on families and loved ones. The stories behind the statistics are real, filled with unanswered questions. While the media is a powerful tool, it must be handled with sensitivity and respect for those directly affected. We all have a role to play; we can assist organisations that provide help to families of missing persons, offer aid to families of missing persons, and be mindful consumers of media while advocating for better reporting standards.
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