The Jack Family Disappearance and the Shadows on the Highway

MJ

Welcome back to MJ on Crime. I am your host, MJ. Alright, folks, let’s set the scene. It’s August 2nd, 1989, in Prince George, British Columbia—the Jack family: Ronald, Doreen, and their two young boys, Russell and Ryan. The Jacks are proud members of the Cheslatta Carrier Nation and respected, hard-working members of the community. They leave their home at 2116 Strathcona Avenue in the dead of night. They’re seen getting into a pickup truck, not their own, but one belonging to some guy Ronald met at The First Litre Pub. The story goes that this guy offers Ronald a lumber camp job near Clucluz Lake, saying there’s work for Ronald, a cook's job for Doreen, and a place for the whole family to live. So, they pack up, and at 1:21 a.m., they drive off. And that’s it. No one ever sees them again.

MJ

Now, let me tell you, back in ’89, you didn’t have cell phones pinging towers, no digital breadcrumbs, no surveillance cameras on every corner. Once you left your house, you could just vanish. And that’s exactly what happened here. The Jacks left behind everything—even the dog. They told friends and family they would be back. However, the family never hears from them; that's not like them, and the search for the Jacks begins. The only real lead was the job offer and the mystery man in the pub, along with his truck. However, no one could identify the man, and the truck was never found. It’s like the Jack family just drove off the edge of the map.

MJ

I gotta say, a case like this—where a whole family disappears, no trace, no trail—it always sets off alarm bells. You start thinking, was this planned, did they want to vanish? Did they want to start a new life? Were they running from something? No one who knew them knew of any issues or problems. Was it a setup? Or did something go sideways real fast? These days, you’d have a hundred ways to track someone, but back then, you were working with nothing but gut instinct, whatever scraps of info you could dig up, and the memories of witnesses. Let me tell you, witness memories are a slippery slope. Different folks can see and say different things. And that’s why cases like the Jacks' are, I am sure, still haunting investigators. There’s just nothing to grab onto.

MJ

So, let’s talk about the investigation—or, as some have said, the lack of one, at least in the early days of the case. The Royal Canadian Mounted Police, the RCMP, also known as the Horsemen in law enforcement circles, opened a file, but according to Marlene, Doreen’s younger sister, it was mishandled from the outset. She says the case was closed way too soon, even though there was no proof the family was alive or dead. According to accounts, the RCMP closed the case on a rumor that the family had been found. It took months and a lot of noise from the family before the cops reopened it. Unfortunately, that’s a pattern you saw too often at the time, with Indigenous victims' cases getting written off and families left in the dark. So, this case went cold faster than a north country winter.

MJ

Fast forward to 2019, and there’s a tip—a phone call to the RCMP. Someone thinks they know something, so the RCMP searches a property on the Saik’uz Nation reserve. They bring out the big guns: ground-penetrating radar, forensic teams, the whole nine yards. But again, nothing. No trace of the Jacks. It’s like the earth just swallowed them up.

MJ

You can feel the frustration from Doreen's sister, Marlene, and the rest of the family. Thirty-five years of feeling ignored, of being told to wait, of watching the case go cold and then colder. Marlene's been pretty vocal about it—she says the police didn’t listen, didn’t care, and that’s fueled a lot of distrust. And honestly, can you blame her? When you see the same story play out over and over, it’s hard not to lose faith in the system that's supposed to provide you, the victims, justice. But in the RCMP's defense, and we all know all too well, there are just cases that go cold fast, almost like they refuse to be solved.

MJ

But here’s where things start to shift, at least a little. In 2024, for the first time, there’s a vigil for the Jack family in Prince George. Strathcona Park, with over 120 people in attendance—family, friends, community leaders, even the RCMP and the mayor. It’s the first time the family says they really felt heard, really felt supported. That’s huge, after three and a half decades of silence.

MJ

Patricia Prince from local United Way helped organize it, and she has been connecting with the family, pushing to make this an annual event until the Jacks are found. You have leaders from the Cheslatta Carrier Nation, local politicians, and the community all coming together to say, “We’re not letting this go.” That kind of community pressure, well, it matters. It keeps the case alive, keeps the spotlight on the need for answers and justice for the family, and yes, for the community at large.

MJ

And Marlene—she’s not giving up. She runs a Facebook page for the family, keeping the story out there, encouraging people to use technology and the internet to stay connected. She’s trying to make sure that others don't end up another cold case. It’s a tough job, but it's become her mission in life, day in and day out.

MJ

Now, you can’t talk about the Jack family without talking about the bigger picture—the crisis of missing and murdered Indigenous people, especially along Highway 16, the so-called “Highway of Tears” in British Columbia. The Jacks aren’t the only ones. There are dozens, maybe more, not known, who’ve vanished or been killed along that lonely stretch of highway. The sad truth is that many of these cases receive barely a mention in the media, let alone a thorough investigation by the authorities.

MJ

People have been saying it for years—there’s a pattern here. Indigenous families don’t get the same attention, the same resources, the same urgency. Some genuinely believe there’s bias, plain and simple. And it’s not just the Jacks. Other indigenous families in British Columbia are living with the same fear, the same uncertainty, the same heartbreak. It’s a crisis, and it’s ongoing. I have worked with tribal and indian country law enforcement in the United States. There are some genuinely unique crimes perpetrated against native peoples. Stay tuned for an upcoming episode on this topic.

MJ

Look, we've talked about cold cases before on this show—Hazel Drew, the Tylenol murders, even the BTK case. But with the Highway of Tears, it’s not just about one killer or one mystery. It may be about a system that keeps failing the same people, over and over. And if this is indeed the case, it is a major issue that must be addressed.

MJ

So, where does that leave us? For Marlene and the rest of the family, it’s thirty-five years of waiting, of hoping for a break, of living with questions that never get answered. Marlene’s plea is simple: if you know something, say something. Even the smallest tip could make a difference. The family and now the broader community are still out there, every day, asking for help and seeking closure.

MJ

From my side, as someone who’s seen these kinds of cases, I’ll tell you—transparency matters. Community partnership matters. Inter-law enforcement agency cooperation matters. I believe fundamental changes are needed in how law enforcement handles cases involving Indigenous peoples. We also need to fix the lack of resources available to tribal and indian county law enforcement in terms of training and technology. However, there are small things that will pay big rewards now—listening, following up, and ensuring that things don't slip through the cracks. It means accountability, from the top down. To be honest, that does not cost that much.

MJ

If you’re listening and have information, please contact the Prince George RCMP or Crime Stoppers. And even if you don’t have any information, support the families, support the advocates, push for answers. That’s how we keep these stories alive, and maybe, just maybe, bring some peace to the people left behind. Alright, that’s it for today. We’ll keep digging, keep telling these stories, because every family deserves answers. Remember, every crime has a story. My mission. Tell it. Catch you next time.