Marie,

I miss Milo so, so much. He was my little boy. For 2 years I put my heart, soul and energy into providing everything he needed. He was the runt of his litter with his anxiety, his allergies, and his attachment issues. I had a difficult first year with him, I didn’t understand him fully, why he behaved how he did, and I didn’t understand how I could progress with him. But through the power of sheer love and devotion (and an amazing trainer in the UK), I began to understand his needs. He needed to go slowly, to gain trust in new people and new dogs at his own pace. It wasn’t always easy, but once I understood what worked, I knew I could continue helping him. 

This is where you came in. We met in Cannes, you understood Milo and you weren’t phased by his anxious temperament. We didn’t agree on all points, but overall, I felt confident that you could help us on our journey with slowly socialising Milo. It was a scary moment when we left him with you for the first time, but the relief we felt when everything went perfectly was overwhelming. The next time we came to see you, he jumped up and licked your face – we knew we had found a good person for him.

In July we dropped him off with you before our holiday. He was so happy to arrive, he was jumping up at you and didn’t even notice us going back to the car to leave for the airport. He was finally progressing and growing up into a fine young man. Our last memory is of him trotting off with you down the trail. He was so happy. We loved receiving the updates and photos of him mixing with other dogs and sleeping at yours. We knew it was a good experience for him, even if we missed him every second.

On the final day of our trip, we wondered why we hadn’t received any updates. It was a little bit strange, but nothing too concerning. Perhaps you were busy with him or letting him rest in the heat. 

It was the morning of the 13th of July when we were at the airport ready for our flight back when you called. You explained how he had just run off and that you were looking for him, and you were confident you’d find him soon. I messaged my family immediately, as did Sabrine. Everyone was worried but not overwhelmingly so. My brother commented that it’s not like Milo to run off. Sabrine was breaking down at the airport and I had a knot in my stomach, but we had confidence in you. Truthfully, I thought by the time we landed in Nice, I would receive a message to say he’d be found safely.

We had no idea he had been missing for 12 hours already. 

When we arrived at yours, it was total confusion. Friend and family already on the scene were understandably upset at your explanations. Sabrine and I couldn’t quite believe that some people were suggesting that Milo was already dead. Then, out of nowhere, you announced that you had to leave soon – the same day – on holiday. Not before explaining that you’d help us find a new dog, and that we would soon move on and love again. We were shocked and confused. How can she leave us like this? She just lost our dog now she is leaving? What is happening? Why is telling us we will move on and love our next dog the same way we love Milo? We graciously dropped you at your car, conveniently parked away from your address. My family were begging me to follow you, but I didn’t because I trusted you. How I regret not seeing where you really went.

The following days are burned into my memory like a nightmare that I can’t forget. The heat, the mosquitos, the sleepless nights, wondering if Milo will appear at the door, wondering where he might be, wondering why you left so suddenly. Not long later, my brother arrived, and so many other volunteers. We risked our lives being chased through the forest. Police and fire service were on scene, we thought my brother was going to die. So many strangers came, they put their dogs at risk, people gave their blood sweat and tears. All this time, people were saying ‘Where is Marie, the lady who lost Milo?’ 

People were upset and had questions. People tried to contact you to ask these questions. You immediately put a barrier up, claimed harassment and painted yourself as the victim, meanwhile we were endlessly searching the forest for Milo or his little body. 

More than 2 months later, I have not given up. I am still spending most of my days searching for my boy who wasn’t even 2 years old. I will never give up. The way you have behaved is nothing short of a cliche true-crime documentary. You left the country the day after Milo disappeared, you avoided returning when you knew there was a search party present, you gave vague explanations and finally you have left the country and ignore our messages and calls. What else can we do? 

Some people suggest that you sold him. Some people suggest that you took him to Italy. Some people even suggest your story is plausible – that he ran away without a sound or trace, with his 15 metre lead attached. Anything is possible. My honest opinion? He died with you on the 12th of July. I can’t bear to imagine what happened, but it was a heatwave, and you admitted to throwing his ball on the trail. I believe he either fell off a steep drop, or you over-worked him until he succumbed to the heat – something I mentioned previously to you when you suggested a walk in the midday sun.

Whatever happened, however it happened, for whatever reason, I just need to know. Perhaps at the time, in the moment of panic, you decided it would be easier to say he ran away. Maybe you were worried you would be in some kind of legal trouble. I’m sure you never imagined we would look this long and this hard for him. We’re 2 months in, I will do this 10 times over and then some.

Marie Nygren, please. As a fellow human being, I am begging you for the truth. I cannot –  and will not – move on. I need to know where his body is and what happened. As soon as I have the truth, I can move on. I can sleep again, I can mourn my little boy.

Please Marie, find the courage to tell me what happened.