I gave a ride to a man who went missing. That chance encounter has stayed with me

This First Person article is the experience of Yassir El-Tahan, who lives in Bauline, N.L. For more information about CBC’s First Person stories, please see the FAQ.

On the morning of Aug. 22, 2015, the sun was shining, with not a hint of wind. I decided to take advantage and head to my favourite pond, just outside St. John’s, for a swim. I usually take my bike, but I was in a hurry that day, so I hopped into my Jeep and took a narrow trail that had been carved out in the woods.

When I was deep into the trail, I saw someone off in the distance walking toward me. It’s not uncommon to see people along that route as quite a few use it for mountain biking and dog walking, but as I approached the man, something told me to stop.

After a brief chat, I learned he was not familiar with the area, so I offered him a ride to the pond where I was headed. He accepted and away we went. It was about a seven-minute off-roading adventure from there to the pond. I don’t remember much of the conversation, only that he said he wanted to get away to “clear his head.”

“Well,” I said when we arrived, “this is one of my happy places, enjoy!” I went for a quick swim, bid farewell, and went on my way.

Two days later, while eating lunch at work and scrolling on my phone, I saw a CBC News story about a missing man Jonathan Hannaford. My jaw dropped when I saw the picture — it was the guy I had dropped off at the pond on Saturday.

I called the police, and shortly afterward they were at my workplace taking a statement. One of the main questions was whether he had anything with him when I picked him up. I couldn’t recall exactly, but I did know that in no way was he equipped to spend a couple of days in the woods.

A sudden realization

It was then that I realized that not only was I the last to see a missing person, I had actually driven him deeper into the woods where he disappeared.

With the information I provided, the police intensified the search. Search and rescue crews were brought in. There were people on ATVs, on foot, in helicopters as well as drones overhead. I joined a Facebook group that Jonathan’s father, Brian, had started to help find his son.

Shortly afterward, Brian offered a reward to help locate his son. He explained that his other son, Christopher, had gone missing during a camping trip in British Columbia four years earlier. It was Jonathan who travelled there to identify his brother’s body, which had been found in a lake. Jonathan had been battling anxiety ever since, said his father, who also mentioned that his son had left a note in his car, which had been ditched on the side of the road.

In an interview with The St. John’s Morning Show, Brian named me as the last person to see Jonathan before he went missing.

I immediately began receiving messages from his family and friends on Facebook and learned more about Jonathan, including that he had uploaded a song to YouTube that he wrote and dedicated to his son. The song’s chorus went: “Son, be strong if I go / Hear this song and you’ll know / I need you to know that I love you.”

Things were not looking good.

In a dark place

Jonathan’s family and friends asked me to take them to the area where I had dropped him off, but I politely declined, telling them I didn’t want to interfere with the search team’s operations. The reality was that I found myself in a bit of a dark place through it all.

With the note Jonathan left in his car, his long history of anxiety and depression following his brother’s death, his recent breakup, the fact he was not equipped to spend a night, let alone several, in the woods — all signs pointed to the worst possible outcome.

I couldn’t help but think that if I had taken my bike as usual, if I hadn’t picked him up, turned him around and driven him deeper into the woods, things might have been different. If I hadn’t intercepted him and he had kept walking straight for another 15 to 20 minutes, he would have found himself on a main road in Airport Heights, completely out of the woods.

But just as something told me to stop and pick Jonathan up that Saturday, something told me a couple of days later that the worst hadn’t happened and he was still alive. Maybe it was my way of coping with the situation, but I had to follow my gut. I drove straight to the spot I met Jonathan and shined my lights down the gravel path as if somehow expecting to see him walking toward me.

I hatched a plan: I’d drive around all night and blast the song he dedicated to his son to try to draw him out.

I went home to make some food. If I was going to be out all night, I needed some fuel. But as I sat and ate, reality kicked in: this was a stupid idea.

Navigating those trails were difficult enough during the day, let alone at night. What if I got a flat tire? It’s happened before on those trails — that would be a very tangly situation. I had to work in the morning as well. So instead, in a Facebook post at 2:45 a.m., I offered to help take those who wanted in to help search for Jonathan the next day when I got off work, and I went to bed.

The next morning, in a response to my post, I learned Jonathan had been found alive.

Suddenly, a happy ending

I couldn’t have been any more relieved. Five days earlier, I had stopped in the woods to pick up a complete stranger. A scenario that could have doubled as the opening sequence of a horror movie eventually had a happy ending.

In a Facebook post, Jonathan thanked everyone who had helped look for him, and said he had anxiety and depression. He detailed his days in the woods, and mentioned me:

“I ran into a very nice guy somewhere close to Windsor Lake. He offered me a ride to a spot he liked to go, which made me feel a little better.… It was nice to be by the water, and that is where I had planned to camp for the last time. I set up camp, boiled some water and picked some berries for supper.”

I messaged him on Facebook, but he didn’t reply.

In the years that followed, I thought about him a lot, and seven years later, I messaged him again, reminded him who I was and asked if he wanted to get together.

We got in my Jeep and went back to that spot in the woods, Jonathan’s first time there since I had brought him there the first time.

I recorded parts of our conversation for an episode of Atlantic Voice.

LISTEN | Hear the full documentary about Yassir El-Tahan and Jonathan Hannaford: 

Jonathan told me he had been struggling with anxiety and addiction, and he didn’t know if he would make it out of the woods alive.

“I was at rock bottom, and you pulled up with a smile on your face,” he told me. “And I felt like maybe this is meant to be, maybe I should just hop in.”

He told me he didn’t know what he would have done or where he would have gone if I hadn’t picked him up, and that chance encounter had helped him feel better.

“I remember sitting in the truck, thinking, ‘Man, like, how did this even happen?'” he said.

“He just, you know, pulled up, he didn’t know me, he just stopped and said hop in.’ And I was like, ‘Wow, like, he don’t even know what’s going on right now.’… I didn’t tell you much. I know you left there not knowing any of the situation at all, but, you know, it really helped when you came.”

After four nights, he walked out of the woods near the St. John’s airport and used a payphone to call his dad. He had no idea there were helicopters and search parties looking for him.

He told me the police bought him a Tim Hortons sandwich and coffee and as the weeks went on, he received hundreds of messages from people he hadn’t heard from in years, and felt the most love he’d ever felt.

“It’s almost like it cured me immediately,” he said. “I felt better already, man. And I really needed it.”

I came away from the experience having learned that you never know what someone else is going through.

Sometimes, taking the time to stop, smile and check in can make all the difference.

Listen to the audio documentary in the player above, or find Atlantic Voice on CBC Listen, Spotify or where you get podcasts.

September is Suicide Prevention Month. If you or someone you know is struggling, here’s where to get help:

This guide from the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health outlines how to talk about suicide with someone you’re worried about.