Mother James - Missing Person

Home Page Family Tree -Dafydd Photo Album Missing: Howell MissingPersons	The following article was published in Woman's Weekly on the 5th December, 2000. About 250,000 people go missing every year - mostly around Christmas - leaving their loved ones bewildered and bereft at a time when most families are gathering together. Marion James is one of those left behind. Twelve years ago this Christmas, her son Howell, then aged 24, simply got into his car and vanished. Marion talks to Alison Legh Jones.
	'I weep inside for my missing son' With her rosy complexion and mass of grey hair, Marion James epitomises the traditional warm-hearted granny. She has five children and ten grandchildren, belongs to her local church and WI and often takes part in choral concerts. You’d never guess to look at her that, every minute of every day, her mind is a long way away. It’s trapped in a tortuous loop wondering why her youngest son vanished twelve years ago without a trace – and whether he’s still alive. Howell James was twenty four, single, with a good job as an electronics engineer, when he vanished from Marion’s house in Nefyn, North Wales, just after midnight on Sunday 11th December, 1988. The details are etched in her memory. “Howell had his own house in Bangor and had come home for the weekend,” she says. “On the Sunday evening he went out for a drink with friends. When he got home, at about eleven fifty, he was in what I’d describe as a ‘humph’ – which wasn’t like him. He sat in the living room for a few minutes with his head in his hands. Then he went into the kitchen and I thought he was going to make a cup of tea, which he often did at that time of night. Instead, he went into the garage, got into his car and drove away.” Concerned, Marion followed him outside into the dark. “I rushed after him, but his car was already turning out of the drive. It was too late. I’ve gone over it again and again, thinking ‘if only I’d been quicker.’” He simply vanished into thin air, the mystery deepening when Marion discovered he had left his wallet, credit cards, driving licence and passport behind - and had paid the deposit on a skiing holiday for the next February. Three alleged sightings led nowhere and his car has never been traced. Even more frustrating, no one has come up with any logical explanation. “His friends came to see me afterwards,” says Marion. “They said he’d seemed quiet in the pub that night. They were also surprised because he drank about six pints whereas he normally only had a half – so there was obviously something on his mind and he must have been quite drunk. They were as baffled and upset as me.” Marion, now seventy two, still lives in the same hillside house from which Howell disappeared, surrounded by reminders of him. There’s his graduation picture in the hall and a mahogany coffee table, which Howell made for her, in pride of place in the living room. Outside is the patio he built with friends for his eighteenth birthday party. His jackets, ski boots and his electronic equipment wait for him in his bedroom and a toy hedgehog, a childhood treasure, stands on the bedside table. “You don’t lose hope just because time is passing,” explains Marion. “I keep his things in case he may want them again. I’ll only stop believing he’s alive if his body is found.” Marion married William James in 1953 and Howell was born in 1964. His eldest sister, Ruth, now 47, is a marine biologist, Frances, now 46 is a doctor and Llewella, 37, is a teacher. His brother Daffydd, a lorry driver, died in a road accident in 1995, age 40. In 1979, when Howell was 15, William James died from a heart attack.	Marion, a former nurse, gave up work to look after her children, and paints an affectionate picture of Howell as a likeable, if slightly lazy, child. “He was the sort who gets ‘could do better’ on school reports,” she laughs. “But he was a happy boy with no problems apart from the usual arguments children have with their siblings. Of all my children, he was the least likely to do anything like this.” “As Howell got older, if there was any trouble he was the one who calmed people down. We were very close and I thought we could talk about anything. That’s what’s so hard to understand – why he didn’t tell me what was troubling him.” A Yorkshire woman by birth, she frankly admits, “I’m not the huggy-lovey type, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care deeply. I weep inside for Howell, but I try not to show my emotions because if you do you’re no good to anyone.” She’s convinced she would know, instinctively, if Howell was dead. “I’ve always had a sixth sense about my children,” she says. “The night Daffydd died, I had a terrible sense of loss. I haven’t had that feeling with Howell.” Nothing in Howell’s life could raise any suspicions. He was doing well in his first job, writing software for laboratory instrument control programmes; he’d recently bought a house in Bangor and had taken in lodgers to help pay the mortgage. He’d had several girlfriends but nothing serious, as far as Marion knows. His interests included steam trains, hang gliding and photography. Every possible explanation of what happened simply raises more questions. It’s been suggested that he may have driven off a cliff. But, if so, why ? And police say at least part of the car would have been washed up. The police drew blanks, as did The Salvation Army and the Missing Persons Bureau (now the National Missing Persons Helpline). A dowser and a psychic also failed to come up with answers. Marion’s theory is that he was definitely upset about something. “Maybe it was a woman, but I’ve no idea who. There are two things that drive men crazy – one’s a woman and the other is losing his job. I keep thinking his disappearance must have been planned because it was so effective – yet the way he did it seemed so unplanned.” “It’s a bit like bereavement without a body. I’m always looking for him in the street and sometimes I see someone like him and hurry back so I can look at their face.” After Howell disappeared, Marion paid the mortgage on his house for two years before selling it and putting the proceeds into a bank account for him. Legally, she could have had him declared missing or presumed dead after seven years, but refused to do so. She has also kept him in her will. Her other children believe that Howell is alive or keep their own counsel. “Ruth and Frances don’t talk about it, partly because they don’t want to upset me and partly because there’s no answer,” Marion says. “Daffydd was convinced he’s alive and Llewella just thinks he’s around somewhere.” “I’ve a strong feeling he’s in Scotland, though I can’t say why, except that he loved taking holidays there. He’ll be thirty six now and probably married with children. When people ask how many grandchildren I’ve got, I often find myself saying ‘Ten that I know of !’” If Howell wants to stay away from his family, Marion can accept it. All she wants is a phone call or postcard so she knows he’s alive. “I often imagine what it would be like to see Howell again, how I’d feel if he walked through the door. My heart would be bursting with joy.”