The Murder of Brandi "Amy" Sullivan (Massachusetts)

17-year-old Brandi Amy Sullivan was used to coming and going. She was restless, independent, and always in motion. So when she didn't come home in the summer of 1996, her family tried not to panic, but this time was different. Weeks later, Amy was found dead in the woods behind a warehouse in suburban Massachusetts. It followed was an investigation plagued by missing time, withheld details, and a crucial lie that shifted the timeline of her final days. There were people who saw Amy after she was reported missing. People who didn't come forward. Why? Nearly three decades later, no one has been held accountable for Amy's murder. It's time to change that. I'm Kylie Lowe, and this is the case of Brandi Amy Sullivan. One dark down east. The last time Brandi Sullivan's parents saw her was in the early morning hours of June 6, 1996. Their 17-year-old daughter, who was known as Amy, called her mother Barbara Sullivan sometime before 1.30 a.m. from the Oakdale Mall, asking for a ride. Barbara went to get her and brought her back to the family's house on Water Street in two expiry Massachusetts. Alexandra Mayer-Hodel reports for the Lowell Sun that Amy didn't seem like herself that night. She said she wasn't feeling well, and the mother and daughter talked quietly about making a doctor's appointment. Before heading to her room, Amy told her mother she was going to make something to eat and then go to bed. Later that night, Amy reportedly made a phone call to someone whose identity has never been publicly confirmed, and then she tucked into bed. The last words her mother remembers saying to her were simple and ordinary. "I love you." By morning, Amy was gone again. Several days went by without any sign of her. At first, her absence didn't immediately register as alarming. According to reporting by Ellen O'Brien for the Boston Globe, Amy had a history of leaving home for days or even weeks at a time. Still, there was a pattern. Amy always called. She might have let her parents know where she was going, or at least checked in periodically so they wouldn't worry. This time, there was nothing. Amy's father, Dennis Sullivan, believed there was an explanation that fit what they knew of their daughter. He thought Amy might have argued with her boyfriend and left to clear her head, eating some space before coming home again. An associated press report in the North Adams transcript suggests the pair were known to have their disagreements. So, the Sullivan's waited. They checked in quietly, trying not to assume the worst. Dennis is quoted by Johini and Jason B. Johnson in the Boston Herald saying that he didn't want to cause a panic if Amy was simply staying somewhere else. After several days with no word, they began searching more actively. Postures went up in grocery stores asking for information about Amy's whereabouts. Her two brothers looked too, checking the places she usually spent time. Friends were contacted, but one by one, each possibility fell away. Amy wasn't staying with anyone they knew. On June 25, 1996, nearly three weeks after she was last seen, Dennis and Barbara Sullivan reported their daughter missing to Tukesbury Police. Even then, the picture remained unclear. Tukesbury Police investigated her disappearance, but found no signs of foul play, nothing to suggest she had been abducted or seriously harmed. Friends even claimed they had seen Amy around town in late June, after the missing persons report had been filed. In the weeks that followed, Hope lingered alongside fear. Dennis knew his daughter's dream of going to California. As the days turned into five long weeks without contact, he allowed himself to believe that maybe Amy had done what she'd always talked about, found a way west, chasing the life she imagined and would eventually get in touch. Her family waited for a phone call, a sighting that would lead somewhere certain, a sign that she was still moving through the world on her own terms. Instead, the next answer came without warning and without mercy. On August 7, 1996, an employee at an IRS storage warehouse at 377 Ballard Vale Road in North Wilmington, Massachusetts, noticed pieces of clothing in a wooded area behind the building just beyond the parking lot. The employee felt it "concerning enough" to report the discovery and Wilmington police responded to the scene. At approximately 9.20 a.m., an officer located skeletal human remains. The wooded area sat close to everyday routines. Cars were coming and going, people arriving for work, yet the remains had gone unseen for weeks. Investigators secured the area as they began the careful work of documenting the scene. The remains were left in place for roughly a day so a forensic anthropologist could examine the site and recover evidence without disturbing its context. Through dental records, authorities confirmed what the Sullivan family had been dreading since the day she disappeared, the remains belonged to Amy. With that identification, the search for Amy ended, but the questions were only beginning. Brandy Amy Jean Sullivan was born on St. Patrick's Day, March 17. She would have turned 18 in 1997. Most people knew her as Amy Sullivan, according to reporting by Simon Crystal for the Boston Herald. In December of 1995, Amy's legal name changed to Brandy after her mother's husband Dennis formally adopted her and her brothers. So the paperwork said Brandy, but her friends still said Amy. Her path through adolescence was not an easy one. Amy stopped attending high school during her sophomore year, but leaving the classroom did not mean abandoning her ambitions. She planned to learn her high school equivalency diploma and had her site set on welding school. She was reportedly just two weeks away from completing her GED at the time of her disappearance. Now welding appealed to her not just as a trade, but as an art form. She liked the idea of shaping metal, of making something expressive and permanent with her hands, and she even talked about opening a welding studio of her own someday. On day 13, Amy began using substances while spending time with an older, rougher crowd. Dan Sufer reports for the Lowell Sun that in the summer of 1995, she and 30 Women's Recovery Center in Falmouth for treatment related to cocaine and alcohol use. She stayed for about seven months before the restlessness took over and sparked an impulsive decision. She wanted to go somewhere. Amy left the treatment program and she and her boyfriend tried to hitchhike across the country to California to visit Jim Morrison's memorial site, only to be picked up by police in Colorado for hitchhiking. On that occasion, her parents had reported her missing and Amy eventually resurfaced. She moved through the world constantly, Amy was known for hitchhiking, for showing up and disappearing again, for living in motion. But it was only part of her story, not the whole of who she was. Those who love Amy describe someone far bigger than her turbulent early adolescence. Amy's parents said she was a social butterfly surrounded by friends, an intelligent, with a heart of gold. She drew people in easily, curious about the world and the people moving through it alongside her. In the weeks before she vanished, Amy was on the verge of a new chapter, closing the door on one life and reaching for another she had begun to imagine more clearly. But Amy's life, her plans, the momentum she had been building, all of it stopped in the woods behind that warehouse building in Wilmington. Investigators determined that Amy's cause of death was blunt force trauma to the head. Based on the condition of her remains, they believed she had been at the site for at least a month, a conclusion that was later confirmed by autopsy findings showing she had been dead for a minimum of four weeks. But put a pin in that time frame for a second because it gets less clear later on. We'll get there. From the start, key details were withheld from the public. Police would not say whether Amy had been killed where she was found, or if her body had been placed there after her death. They also declined to disclose whether there was any evidence of sexual assault. Even basic information, such as whether Amy was found wearing clothing, was not publicly clarified. Despite the IRS employee who first alerted authorities reporting women's clothing in the wooded area. Later reporting by Jordana Hart for the Boston Globe adds some clarity to this question though. Police stated that Amy's clothing had been "strune nearby". But there's nothing in the source material I have access to that provides any context for this, like for example, if the clothing was dumped there, or if animal activity at the scene may have contributed to it being "strune about". I do know that a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a jacket recovered from the scene were returned to Amy's parents. Dennis and Barbara said they did not recognize the jacket, but the jeans and shoes were either Amy's or consistent with what she was known to wear. Investigators also acknowledged finding an object at the scene, though they would not identify it or say whether it was consistent with Amy's injuries. In one single article from 1996, written by Dan Stufert for The Lowell Son, Amy's family said that police told them she had been killed with a large rock. I haven't been able to independently verify this, but the detail is out there. The location itself raised difficult questions. The area behind the IRS storage facility was heavily wooded, offering cover and seclusion, but it was not isolated. Several paths cut through the landscape, suggesting regular foot traffic, and the possibility that someone could have entered or exited the area without drawing attention. As the days passed, the investigation expanded. Wilmington and Tuxbury police worked jointly with the Middlesex County District Attorney's Office. Two weeks after Amy was found, authorities told the public that while new arrests had been made, the case was moving forward, and progress was being made behind the scenes. For Amy's family, the waiting returned, this time without hope for a different ending. Only the need for answers that refused to come quickly, and the few that did, turned out to be false. By the end of the summer, investigators were still searching for clarity about Amy's final weeks, her movements, and the people she spent time with after she disappeared. But instead of answers, they uncovered deception. On August 21, 1996, a 36-year-old man named Neil Clough was indicted on perjury charges relating to Amy's case. Prosecutors accused him of lying to the grand jury investigating her murder. Neil was part of Amy's circle. He owned black and blue salvage, a scrap metal yard in Tuxbury, and Amy and her boyfriend had reportedly worked there at one point. He was also described as a friend of both Amy and her boyfriend, which is part of why he had been called to testify. According to reporting by Joe Bartolotta for the Lowell Sun, under oath, Neil told the grand jury that he hadn't seen Amy since June of 1996, but police already knew that wasn't true. More than a month after Amy was last seen by her parents, on July 17, 1996, Neil parked his beat up black and red van in a fire lane at the Chelmsford Mall. A police officer approached the vehicle and found a young woman inside. She identified herself as Amy Sullivan. The officer asked her to move the van, but she said she couldn't because she didn't have a driver's license. When the officer ran her information, nothing came back. Even though Amy was listed as a missing person at the time. One report later suggested the officer may not have completed the database check before Neil returned to the van. If that's the case, the officer never realized he had just come face to face with a teenage girl whose parents had been searching for her for more than a month. But there was no reason to detain Neil, so he simply moved the van out of the illegal parking spot and drove away. Despite record of this interaction with police in July, Neil told investigators something else. According to reporting by Lisa Redmond for the Lowell Sun, Neil claimed that he saw Amy on June 6, which was also the same day her parents last saw her, when he, Amy and her boyfriend went camping together. He also said he saw the couple once more on June 12, behind a church in Tukesbury, but not after that. Neil testified that he did not see Amy in July and did not drive her anywhere in his van. When confronted about his grand jury testimony that conflicted with the testimony from the officers who saw Amy in his van that day in July, Neil said he had simply forgotten that he'd been with Amy and her boyfriend then. He maintained that he lost saw Amy in June, which is why that's what he told the grand jury. Neil pleaded not guilty to the perjury charges. His bail was initially set at $1,000, which he posted about a month later. He was scheduled to appear in court for a pretrial hearing on January 7, 1997, but he didn't show up. Neil was arrested again, and his bail increased to $5,000, which he was unable to post. Neil's attorney said his client had once again confused dates and believed the hearing was on the 27th, not the 7th. He also argued that the perjury charge itself was a pressure tactic and attempt to squeeze Neil into offering information about Amy's murder, but according to the defense, Neil had nothing else to offer. Despite the charges, investigators said that Neil was not considered a suspect in Amy's murder at the time. An investigator pointed out something that continued to trouble law enforcement about all of this. Neil knew people were looking for Amy. He knew her parents were searching for her. He even said he felt sorry for her mother. Yet he never came forward to say he had seen her after she was reported missing. Amy's body was found 20 days later. The initial date of death estimate based on the condition of her body was stated as "at least four weeks earlier," but we know Amy was alive on July 17th. She couldn't have been much longer if she was reduced to skeletal remains 20 days later. So it's conceivable that Neil was among the last people to see her before she died. Had Neil spoken up in July, had he said out loud that Amy was still alive more than a month after she left her parents' home, the trajectory of the investigation would have changed entirely. But that's not the only what if I'm stuck on. Had Amy's name and missing person's report popped up on the officer's computer screen that day? If the database check was completed before Neil got back to the van, maybe we wouldn't be talking about Amy right now at all. As the months stretched on, the investigation began to stall. Many of Amy's friends refused to talk to police for untold reasons, and without their cooperation progress slowed even further. Authorities released very little new information publicly. What they did say was limited, but telling. William Senagra reports for the Lowell Sun that investigators did not believe Amy's murder was random, and they believed whoever killed her was familiar with the Wilmington and Tukesbury area. Nearly a year after Amy was first reported missing, attention returned to Neil Kluff. This time in a courtroom. In 1997 he went to trial on the perjury charge stemming from his grand jury testimony. Prosecutors had to prove that Neil intentionally lied about when he last saw Amy. Neil's defense rested on a simple explanation that he had mixed up the dates and genuinely misremembered when he last saw her. His attorney argued that the process itself was unfair. Other grand jury witnesses he claimed were allowed to review reports beforehand to refresh their memories. Neil wasn't given that opportunity, and instead faced what the defense described as vague "leading questions" from the prosecutor. The lawyer also suggested Neil had a reason to stay quiet about July 17. Not because he was hiding anything related to Amy's death, but because he didn't want police to know he, Amy, and her boyfriend had actually been out riding around trying to buy pot. When confronted at trial with testimony from the officers who found his van parked in a fire lane at the Chelmsford Mall, Neil changed his story. He acknowledged that he did remember seeing Amy that day after all, and said he had dropped her off into expiry with her boyfriend. He acknowledged they had been driving around looking for drugs. After about three hours of deliberation, the jury returned a guilty verdict. They concluded that Neil had deliberately lied about seeing Amy in July of 1996. He was later sentenced to five to seven years in state prison on the perjury charge. Only after that conviction did police publicly confirm something they had previously denied. Neil Clove was, in fact, a suspect in Amy's murder. Because the case stalled, attention narrowed. Not toward a single clear suspect, but toward a small group of people whose proximity to Amy in her final weeks raised unavoidable questions. One of them was, of course, Neil Clove. By 1997, he had been convicted of perjury for lying about the last time he was with Amy. His false testimony altered the timeline of Amy's disappearance and delayed investigators understanding of her movements in July of '96. While his conviction confirmed deception, it did not establish responsibility for her death. Still, his name remained tethered to the case. Another central figure was Amy's 18-year-old boyfriend at the time she disappeared. On the day Amy's body was discovered, detectives reportedly interviewed her boyfriend for approximately five hours. hours. After that, he retained an attorney and did not speak with police again. In a piece by Ed Hannan for the Lowell Sun, police described the boyfriend as a "key piece to the puzzle," citing his reluctance to further cooperate with the investigation. Amy and this boyfriend had been together for four or five years, according to her father, which made them middle school/high school sweethearts. A friend later told Matt Wickenheiser for the Lowell Sun that the boyfriend talked about marrying Amy when she turned 18. But from what I've read, their relationship was strained. Her parents characterized their daughter's boyfriend as obsessive and abusive. There had been at least one documented incident of violence involving police. In December of 1995, a neighbor called authorities during an altercation between the couple. The witness reported seeing the boyfriend allegedly hit Amy several times as they walked down Elm Street. Both Amy and her boyfriend denied that this occurred, but he was arrested, charged with assault and battery, and placed on probation. The case reportedly did not go to court. Amy's boyfriend has never really spoken publicly about the case in almost 30 years, but he agreed to speak with me for this story. Amy Sullivan's boyfriend, at the time of her murder, who I'll call only by his first name, Alexander, had dated Amy since 8th grade. He remembers her as an amazing person, incredibly intelligent, creative, beautiful, and headstrong. He said that in the weeks she was missing he spent a lot of time hanging around the McDonald's and strip mall in town, hoping she would turn up because he believed she had simply run away. Alexander said he was actually with Neil Cleff on the night he found out Amy was dead. He remembered Neil acting strange and asking if he knew how to get away from a police dog chasing him. Alexander thought that the question was weird, but then again, he felt like Neil was an odd guy anyway. He said that Neil drove him home after that, only for Alexander and his father to head to the police station together soon after. That's when he learned the news about Amy. According to Alexander, Neil Cleff was pretty good to him and Amy when they worked at his scrap metal business, and he acknowledged drinking and smoking pot with Neil at times though no hard drugs. There were times when Alexander was convinced of Neil's innocence. But claim that Neil also made some other comments soon after the discovery of Amy's remains that made him feel like Neil could have been responsible for her death. Then again, Alexander said he'd also heard other rumors around town about people who seemed more likely suspects for the crime. He personally saw certain people change in demeanor and behavior as the investigation intensified which drew his suspicion. A lot of what Alexander shared with me is speculation built on rumor though. On top of the information being largely unverifiable, Alexander didn't want any of his theories on the record. Alexander himself was considered a suspect at one point during the investigation. During our conversation, he addressed the accusations against him that have surfaced through the years, saying quote, "While false accusations pale in comparison to losing somebody so close to you, they are still devastating and destroy your life." He denies any involvement or first-hand knowledge of Amy's murder and hopes that new information will finally surface to close the case. Unfortunately, I can't have a conversation like this with Neil Cluff about the accusations and rumors of his involvement in the case. He died in 2018. I got to mention that investigators looked beyond Amy's immediate circle too. Interestingly, in September of 1996, police released a composite sketch of a man they believed was among the last people to see Amy alive. According to police, their investigation indicated that Amy was seen speaking with a man seated in the driver's seat of a blue car in the parking lot of an Obasan hardware in Tukesbury on July 18th, the day after she was with Neil Cluff and her boyfriend in Neil's van. The man was described as being between 18 and 27 years old with a thin build and curly brown hair. The vehicle was believed to be a mid-1980s compact to mid-sized car. Police emphasized that the man depicted in the sketch was not considered a suspect, but an important witness. From everything I've found in my reporting so far, there's no sign that this mystery man was ever identified. I'll share the sketch at darkdownease.com for you to see. By 1998, investigators were saying they believed the suspect was someone acquainted with Amy, and who was known to spend time in the area where her body was eventually found. That's about as specific as they got at the time. But fast forward a few years, a little son article by Jeff Scruck indicated that police believed they knew precisely who was responsible for Amy's death. They again described the suspect as an acquaintance of Brandy, and this person also reportedly admitted to other people that he killed her. The man was local to the area and still lived there as of 2002. I've also read that one male suspect failed to polygraph tests, though it's unclear whether he was the same acquaintance referenced by police. Amy's father had once stated his belief about his daughter's killer publicly, "I wouldn't consider the person that did this a friend, but I have a pretty good idea who it is." Between conflicting theories, uncooperative witnesses, and questions that never fully settled, the list of persons of interest remained unresolved. The silence around her death stretched on unanswered. And in the days and weeks that followed, it became impossible to ignore what was happening elsewhere in Massachusetts. Other girls around Amy's age were found murdered in circumstances that felt uncomfortably familiar. In the summer of 1996, violence against teenage girls was not an abstract fear in Massachusetts. It was a documented reality. An extensive report published in the North Adams transcript states that at the time, homicide was the second leading cause of death for teenage girls in the state, surpassed only by car accidents. Within days of Amy's remains being discovered, two more teenage girls were found murdered. 17-year-old Jamie Snow and 16-year-old April Church were found in a wooded area near interstate 84 in Sturbridge, Massachusetts. Investigators believed they were killed sometime between late August 1 and early August 2, 1996. Friends said the girls were last seen riding in a truck with 31-year-old John R. LeBlanc, who quickly became the primary suspect. LeBlanc had an extensive criminal history that included kidnapping, breaking and entering, and violence against women. In Jamie and April's case, investigators believed his motive may have involved retaliation. Jamie's father had reportedly given shelter to one of LeBlanc's former girlfriends who was trying to escape his abuse. But there may have been an even clearer motive for the suspect to silence the girls. According to Brian McQuarrie and Matt Vilano's reporting for the Boston Globe, April was expected to testify against LeBlanc in a domestic violence trial. LeBlanc was arrested and charged with both murders on August 8, 1996, within days of the discovery of Amy's body. He later confessed, admitting he killed the girls and dumped their bodies in the woods. LeBlanc claimed they were planning to report him for sexual assault, though the girls' families believed the impending court testimony played a central role in their murders. He remains in prison to this day. Just days after the murders of April and Jamie, another teenage girl was found murdered in a nearby town. According to reporting by Anne E. Donlin for the Boston Herald, 17-year-old Kimberly J. Bolton was found around 3.50 a.m. on August 11, 1996, by a Conrail police officer near railroad tracks in downtown Framingham, in an area known locally as The Weeds. The location was just two blocks away from the police station and routinely patrolled, leading investigators to believe her body was discovered shortly after she was killed. Reporting at the time indicates Kimberly died from head injuries inflicted with rocks. Kimberly had last been seen at home on the evening of August 10. She reportedly rode her bike to the Waverley Strait commuter rail station, changed it outside Ebenezer's restaurant, and went into a store 24 convenience store. There she asked if she could leave her bag behind the counter, bought a lottery ticket, and lingered outside. A clerk later told police she left with someone around 11.15 p.m. taking her backpack with her. At the time police said there was no conclusive link between Kimberly's murder and Amy's, but the similarities were worth examining. If the source material. is accurate that the murder weapon in Amy's case could have been a rock? That aligns with how Kimberley died. A suspect named Damian Lawcart was later arrested and he ultimately pleaded guilty to Kimberley's murder and assault with intent to rape. He was sentenced to life in prison but is eligible for parole. So far, all four of his requests have been denied. In 2018, his request was denied after he told the parole board that sexual assault was how he was "going to get his needs met," end quote. He's eligible again in 2026. From what I've read, Damian's attack on Kimberley was random and opportunistic. It does not fit the description's police have said about Amy's killer who was known to her. Taken together, all of these cases fueled public fear and a troubling narrative. Much of the media coverage during that period shifted attention away from perpetrators and toured the lives of the victims themselves. The language used often carried an unmistakable tone of "judgment," implying that the girl's behavior, rather than the actions of the people who killed them, was to blame. That framing landed squarely on Amy's family. In December of 1996, letters published in the Lowell Sun's Backtalk section criticized Dennis and Barbara Sullivan, with one writer claiming they had set her up for her murder by failing to make tough decisions as parents. Days later, another reader demanded the paper apologize for publishing such harsh criticism of a family already deep in grief. None of these cases were formally linked, different victims, different suspects, different outcomes. But for families like Amy's the proximity in time, place, and circumstance made one thing clear. Her death was part of a broader landscape of violence, one where young girls were routinely endangered and too often blamed, while answers came slowly, if at all. Over the years, Amy's family has searched for ways to keep her name visible. In July of 1997, they tied purple ribbons to telephone poles and other spots around town, asking neighbors to do the same. Purple had been Amy's favorite color when she was a child. The ribbons were meant to be a simple but powerful effort to honor their daughter, something easy to see and impossible to ignore. A reminder that a young woman's life had been taken and justice still hadn't followed. However, a few days later, Barbara drove past the poles and saw the ribbons scattered on the ground. Someone had slashed them with a knife. She couldn't understand why anyone would do that. Angry maybe, but undeterred, the family made more ribbons and put them right back up. And then a few years later, in March of 2000, Amy's parents filed a civil wrongful death lawsuit, naming Amy's boyfriend and Neil Kluf as defendants. They alleged that Amy's death was caused by willful, wanton, or reckless conduct, and they sought monetary damages. Shortly after the filing, they amended the complaint to add a "John Doe" defendant. A legal placeholder for someone they believed may also be responsible, but had not yet been identified. Both named defendants were served in April of 2000. Neil Kluf responded with multiple motions to dismiss the case, challenge service, and limit discovery, effectively trying to prevent the lawsuit from moving forward. The Sullivan's opposed each motion. Amy's boyfriend, by contrast, appears to never have responded to the lawsuit, and the court entered a default against him in May 2000, meaning liability was treated as uncontested, though damages were still unresolved. The case then slowed considerably. In November 2000, the court dismissed the John Doe defendant without prejudice. Years later, in early 2004, the court revisited the case to assess damages. By then, Kluf still had a pending motion to dismiss, which a judge ultimately denied. Soon after, the court entered a default against Kluf as well. On March 17, 2004, the court entered a judgment in favor of the Sullivan's on liability only against both defendants. This was a procedural ruling, not a finding of criminal guilt, and no damages were awarded at that time. A damage hearing was scheduled for April 2004, but no one appeared on the Sullivan's behalf. Because of that, the judge dismissed the case without prejudice for failure to prosecute. The parents later attempted to vacate that dismissal, but the court declined. The wrongful death case ended without a trial, without damages, and without factual findings about who killed Amy, mirroring the unresolved nature of the criminal case itself. Neil Kluf died in 2018. Investigators have said that the case remains stalled in part, because key witnesses are still withholding first-hand testimony, an information that police believe could have led to an arrest. Dennis once expressed his disbelief about how quickly public attention had faded on his only daughter. Quote, "How come people don't talk about her anymore? They don't do anything about it. How come nobody's asked anything? How come nobody's called the police or the district attorney? It just seems like everybody's forgot all about it." In a December 19, 1997 interview with the Lowell Sun, took very sergeant Dennis Peterson put it plainly, quote, "If anyone thinks we are going away, they're crazy. We'll haunt them every single day until this case is closed," end quote. It was a promise to Amy's family and to whoever knew what happened, but even as leads dried up, the case was not finished. But nearly 30 years later, her case remains open. Amy loved music. She listened to The Doors, The Beatles, Bob Dylan, artists whose songs were restless and questioning and searching much like she was. She was drawn to the spirit of the 1960s, to the idea that art and music could challenge the world as it was and push it towards something better. She cared about social justice. She believed in fairness. She believed people mattered. She was also deeply creative. Amy had a talent for shaping metal into things that felt alive. Amy's parents told Chris Ivan for the Lowell Sun in 2000 that "She welded realistic roses, each petal carefully formed. She made toolboxes for her father and brothers. One of her pieces was a cast iron napkin holder, detailed and deliberate. These are the tangible reminders that Amy was once here. She left her mark on the people who love her most. To her family, Amy wasn't defined by her struggles or the turbulence of her teenage years. She was warmth. She was connection." Barbara once said, quote, "She had this wonderful glow about her that made everyone who was near her comfortable to talk to her." Amy had a way of making people feel seen, of drawing them in without trying. That's the version of Amy, her family carries with them. The one who left easily, who dreamed big, who believed there was more life-weighting just beyond the horizon. Her absence is not just a loss measured in years past or answers missing. It's the loss of all the things she hadn't yet made, all the places she hadn't yet gone, all the people she would have continued to gather around her. Amy should be remembered not for how her life ended, but for how she fully lived it, and for how deeply she is still loved. I want to read you a letter written by Barbara and Dennis Sullivan in 1996. It's a plea that stands today. To all the teenagers and adults who knew and cared about Brandy, Amy Sullivan, we would like to know the whereabouts of the friends and acquaintances whose lives were touched by Amy Sullivan. In the final days of Amy's life, many of you were aware of where she was and whom she was with. And although a great deal of you have already shared that information with investigators, there are still a few of you who are withholding essential information. The police have a considerable amount of evidence leading to the cold-hearted killer of Amy Sullivan, but they still believe there is somebody out there who is withholding vital evidence that would bring the killer to justice. Our family would like to thank those who have made all efforts to help by coming forward with information. Still, we would like to ask all of her other friends and acquaintances, "Do you have a conscience? Were you her friend? Why won't you come forward and give information to the police? How can you protect a person or persons who murdered a defenseless young girl? They are cowards and sick and must be punished for what they have done before they do it again. We need all of the answers to be able to give Amy the justice that she deserves. As her friends, your loyalty is more important than ever now. For those who have information and feel that you don't want to get involved, think again, what if it was your friend or child? Would you want someone to turn their back on you? Unfortunately, in today's society, we accept many crimes as a way of life. As Amy's parents, we will not let this happen. Our daughter was a frail and innocent victim of a cold and heartless murderer. Please help bring Amy's killer to justice. Our hearts are broken, and our lives will forever be changed because of this fierce person who cowardly took our daughter from the world. This person or persons does not deserve to be free in society. We will all be better off when they are brought to justice. A beautiful and kind person has been unfairly taken from us all. A person who would have provided the world with many wonderful things if she were not robbed so early of her precious gift of life. Please, if you have any information, share it with police. Do it not only for Amy's sake, but for preventing someone you know from becoming the next victim. We need this person to be brought to justice. Signed, Barbara and Dennis Sullivan. If you know something about what happened to Amy, anything at all, this is your moment to speak. Maybe it's a detail you brushed off years ago. A conversation you didn't think mattered, something you saw, heard, or were told and chose to keep to yourself. Maybe you thought someone else would come forward. Maybe you were scared. Maybe you were loyal to the wrong person. But silence has a cost, and it has cost Amy her justice. It has cost her family decades of unanswered questions. If you have information about Amy's case, contact the Tuquesbury Police Department at 978-851-7373 or via the anonymous tip line at 978-851-0175. You can also contact the Massachusetts state police, assigned to the District Attorney's Office at 781-897-6600. You don't need the whole story. You don't need proof. You just need to tell what you know. Amy's family is still waiting. Thank you for listening to Dark Down East. You can find all source material for this case at darkdowneast.com. Be sure to follow the show on Instagram at Dark Down East. This platform is for the families and friends who have lost their loved ones, and for those who are still searching for answers. I'm not about to let those names or their stories get lost with time. I'm Kylie Lowe, and this is Dark Down East. Dark Down East is a production of Kylie Media and Audio Check. I think Chuck would approve.