Five Players Vanished After a Match — 20 Years Later, a Hiker Found a Clue That Changed Everything

I. The Night They Disappeared

The gym at Jefferson High was electric that night in 1995. The Knights had just pulled off a last-second upset in the regional playoffs, beating Charlottesville by two points. The crowd went wild, the team hugged and shouted under the flickering scoreboard. Coach Ruben Shaw, a stoic man, allowed himself a rare, proud smile. His boys had played their hearts out—no drama, just pure, hard basketball. For some, like Jeremiah Price, this win might have been the start of something bigger.

By 10:05 p.m., the team loaded into the school’s battered navy Ford van. Coach Shaw drove, as always, with Marcus Tate up front and Jim Price, Darnell Wilks, Deon Knox, and Anthony “Tone” Fields in the back, still laughing and sharing fries. In the parking lot, Gloria Price waved to her son Jim, not knowing it would be the last time she’d see his smile.

The van pulled onto Highway 33, heading east for the routine 90-minute drive home. They never arrived.

By midnight, parents began to worry. Calls went unanswered. At 12:47 a.m., Gloria Price contacted the police. By 1:12, officers were scanning the highway in pouring rain, but there were no signs of a crash—no tire marks, no debris. The van had vanished.

The next morning, the local paper ran a headline: “High School Basketball Team Missing After Victory.” Helicopters, search dogs, and volunteers combed the area. Not a scrap of evidence was found. Rumors swirled: Did Coach Shaw take them? Did the boys run away? Anonymous tips and supposed sightings led nowhere. After a month, only Gloria Price still visited the sheriff’s office every week. By fall, the state quietly changed the case status from “active missing” to “presumed deceased.” Gloria refused to hold a funeral. “I can’t bury a ghost,” she said.

The Knights forfeited the next season. The gym’s photo of the 1995 team faded under dust and sunlight. But for those who loved the boys—especially Gloria—the pain never faded. She kept Jim’s room untouched, wrote him letters on his birthday, and lit a candle every Christmas. She never stopped searching.

II. The Hiker’s Discovery

Twenty years later, in October 2015, Lydia Vega set off alone for a hike in Pine Hollow Preserve, 70 miles northeast of where the van disappeared. She was escaping her own ghosts, not looking for anyone else’s. But as she wandered off-trail, she spotted a sliver of rusted metal beneath moss and leaves—an old bumper. Digging further, she uncovered the nose of a van, buried deep against a slope.

Her hands shook as she snapped photos and called for help. By the next morning, the woods buzzed with police, search teams, and news crews. Forensic teams pried open the wreckage. Inside, they found three bodies: one in the driver’s seat (Coach Shaw), two in the middle and back (Marcus Tate and Devon Knox). Uniform fragments and a medallion confirmed their identities. The van had clearly crashed, but not on any road—someone had driven it deep into the woods.

But two players were missing: Jim Price and Darnell Wilks. The mystery was far from over.

III. The Notebook

Detective Elijah Moore, who’d watched the Knights play as a boy, now worked cold cases. He knew this wasn’t just a crash. Why were only three boys inside? Why were the seatbelts cut? Why were there claw marks inside the doors?

Two days after the van was found, searchers discovered a trail of old soda cans, a cracked cassette, and—wedged under a mossy rock—a high school notebook, wrapped in plastic and sealed with duct tape. On the first page, in faded ink: “If someone finds this, please tell my mom I didn’t stop fighting. —Jim Price.”

The notebook was warped but mostly legible, with entries spanning two years:

October 27, 1995: “I don’t know where we are. Coach is hurt. Darnell won’t stop yelling. Marcus is bleeding. The windshield is cracked. We can’t open the doors.”
November 3, 1995: “Darnell says he saw someone watching us through the trees. The man had a beard and stood too still.”
December 2, 1995: “Devon’s gone. Darnell and I buried him with rocks.”

As Moore read, the horror deepened. The boys had survived the crash and were trapped for weeks, maybe longer. They saw a bearded stranger watching them at night.

April 1996: “I found an old trail. I think he uses it. I’m going to leave this notebook in case I don’t come back.”

The last entry, August 1997: “He says he’s taking Darnell somewhere else. If someone finds this, tell my mom I didn’t stop fighting.”

IV. The Man in the Woods

Forensics found more clues: animal traps, a rusted axe, a shoe print matching Darnell. An old hiker’s tip from 1996 was re-examined—a bearded man and a teenage boy seen near an unmarked cabin. Moore mapped every structure in the area. At the Kesler Ridge fire tower, they found five Polaroid photos: one of a thin Black teen (Jim) by a fire, another of a heavyset white man with a beard (Martin Kaine, a former wilderness instructor with a dark past).

Kaine had been fired from a boys’ summer camp in 1988 for inappropriate conduct and was questioned in two disappearances, but never charged. He moved west and reportedly died in a cabin fire in Alaska in 2002. But now, he was the prime suspect.

A photo from the night of the game showed Kaine standing in the background of the gym, unconnected to the school, but present.

V. New Evidence, New Hope

As the investigation deepened, more evidence surfaced. Lydia Vega, the hiker, returned to the woods and found a rusted lunchbox with another cassette and a thin, damaged notebook. Inside were more entries from Jim Price, dated June-August 1997:

“We’re not in the van anymore. He moved us. Darnell fought him, got hit. He calls it his camp. Says I’m difficult. Tells me Darnell is obedient. I don’t believe him.”
“He says he’s taking Darnell somewhere else. I think he’s trying to split us up. If someone finds this, tell my mom I didn’t stop fighting. Please don’t let them forget us.”

Search teams found an old ranger station, with evidence of habitation—a child’s drawing of five stick figures holding a basketball, one with an X over its face. On the wall of a root cellar, names were carved: Jim, Darnell, Marcus, Coach.

But no more bodies. No direct proof of Kaine’s final fate. The FBI officially named Martin Kaine as the primary suspect, but with his presumed death, there would be no justice in court.

VI. The Aftermath

The story exploded across the nation. Candlelight vigils were held. Social media trended with #NeverStopFighting. Old teammates, teachers, and parents remembered the boys not just as victims, but as sons, brothers, and friends.

The state held a hearing, officially closing the case as abduction/homicide. Jim and Darnell’s bodies were never found. Gloria Price, however, refused to give up hope. “My son was strong. He protected his teammates. He fought back. That’s who he was.”

Detective Moore brought Gloria the original notebook. She read it in silence, tears falling, then asked, “Then where is he now?”

Moore could only shake his head. The final report was clinical, detached. But for Gloria, and for Louisa County, the wounds would never fully heal.

Jefferson High’s gym was renovated. A framed photo of the 1995 team now hangs on the wall, beneath a bronze plaque: “They never gave up. Neither did we.” Jim Price’s jersey is retired, hanging in the rafters.

At the next vigil, Gloria spoke last. She didn’t cry. She simply said, “He made it matter.” And in the flicker of hundreds of candles, the town remembered—not just the tragedy, but the courage, the loyalty, and the fight that would never be forgotten.