The Class of 1999 Vanished on Their Graduation Trip—22 Years Later, a Chilling Discovery Resurfaces

They were 27 teenagers, bursting with life, heading out for one last adventure before adulthood. Then, they vanished—no calls, no bodies, just silence. For 22 years, the disappearance of Forest Grove High School’s Class of ’99 was little more than a terrifying urban legend, whispered around campfires as a cautionary tale. That is, until a hiker stumbled upon a rusted school bus deep in the Oregon woods—its yellow paint nearly swallowed by moss, its interior filled with moldy yearbooks…and something else. Something no one was prepared for.

The Last Day of Innocence

May 1999. The halls of Forest Grove High School buzzed with the electric energy of seniors on the brink of freedom. Among the sea of navy caps and gowns, 27 students stood out—not because they were extraordinary, but because they were close. They were a tight-knit group, bound by years of shared classrooms, heartbreaks, inside jokes, and Friday night games.

There was Lacy Monroe, the valedictorian who seemed perfect to everyone but herself. Jared Fields, the class clown with a sharp eye, always filming his own mockumentary. Tyrese Hall, the football star carrying the weight of everyone’s expectations. Emily Tran, the quiet artist whose sketchbook was filled with haunting forest scenes she claimed came to her in dreams. They weren’t all best friends, but together, they were the heart of the Class of ’99.

As the final bell rang, the school erupted in celebration. Permission slips were handed out, Green Day’s “Good Riddance” blasted from car stereos, and talk of the upcoming graduation trip to the Rogue River Wilderness dominated every conversation.

The Vanishing

June 5, 1999. The bus left Forest Grove for the last time. Driven by a substitute, Mr. Harold Griggs, the yellow bus was packed with laughter, backpacks, and sleeping bags. A few parents filmed the send-off—grainy camcorder footage that would become the last images ever seen of the group.

That evening, a parent received a strange voicemail from her daughter—a burst of laughter, someone yelling, “Turn that off!” Then, static. No goodbye. No hang up. Just silence.

When the bus failed to arrive at the campground, it was first assumed they’d been delayed. But by Sunday morning, panic set in. Search and rescue teams scoured the forest. Helicopters flew over the dense canopy. Dogs tracked dead ends. There were no tire tracks, no cell phone pings, no broken branches. The campground host confirmed: no yellow bus had arrived.

They had simply vanished.

Clues and Theories

A week later, a fisherman found a disposable camera near a river bend, its film missing. Then, a mysterious letter arrived at the Callahan home: “We made it. Please stop looking.” The handwriting was almost, but not quite, their son’s. Some believed the class had run away. Others whispered about cults or rituals in the woods. But there was no trace—no bus, no students, no driver. After two months, the case was quietly closed, labeled an unsolved missing persons event.

But the parents never stopped searching. Some walked the forest trails every year. Others kept their children’s bedrooms untouched, waiting for their return. The halls of Forest Grove High School echoed with new laughter, but a plaque near the entrance bore 27 names—“Gone but never forgotten.”

The Discovery

June 3, 2021. Travis Milner, a firefighter hiking off-trail in the Rogue River-Siskiyou National Forest, spotted a flash of yellow through the trees. As he pushed aside ferns and vines, a rusted school bus emerged from the earth, its number barely visible: 57.

Inside, time had stopped. Dusty backpacks still strapped to seats. Letterman jackets, graduation caps, Polaroids warped by moisture. And at the back, under a pile of clothing—a human jawbone.

Investigators swarmed the scene. Seventeen sets of remains were found, identified through dental records and DNA. Of the 28 who vanished—26 students and two teachers—nine students and both teachers were still missing. The bus was so deep in the forest, with no road nearby, that it couldn’t have simply crashed there. It had been hidden.

Most chilling of all, a waterlogged folder was found under the driver’s seat—filled with Emily Tran’s sketches. Haunting images of masked figures, ritual circles, blood dripping from trees, and the school bus surrounded by faceless silhouettes. Emily’s body was not among the remains.

The Survivor Returns

A week after the discovery, a gaunt, haunted man walked into the Bend Police Station. “I’m Jared Fields from the Class of 1999,” he whispered. For 22 years, Jared had been missing—presumed dead. Now, he was the only living witness.

Terrified, Jared told his story: The bus had broken down deep in the woods. They were found by a group in gray robes who called themselves “the Chosen”—a cult living off-grid, promising peace in a world they claimed had ended. At first, the commune seemed safe, but soon the students were drugged, controlled, and forced to forget their old lives. Those who resisted were taken into the woods—never seen again.

Jared described nightmares, rituals, and sacrifices. He managed to escape in 2006, but lived in hiding, convinced the cult would find him if he spoke. When the bus was discovered, he knew it was time to tell the truth.

Aftermath: Answers and More Questions

Jared’s story divided the community. Some believed him, desperate for closure. Others called him a liar or worse. The media swarmed, theories flourished, but the truth remained elusive. Jared published a memoir, detailing the horrors he endured and the dark secrets of the forest. Some called it madness. Others saw it as the only explanation.

The forest still holds its secrets. The missing students and teachers have never been found. The sketches, the rituals, the bus hidden where no road leads—none of it adds up. The plaque at Forest Grove High remains, the candles lit every June for the Class of ’99.