written by Emily Hendricks, 25, a Terre Haute native and former Tribune-Star reporter who currently resides in New York City. She was a close friend of Scott Javins, who disappeared in 2002 and whose remains were recovered a week ago. The police investigation into his death continues.

I’m part of Scott’s close circle of friends, mainly from Terre Haute North’s class of 2000. I’d like to tell you about Scott as a person — not just as a news story. He was not — as some people may have said, heard or thought — a delinquent. He was a sweet, fun, happy guy who cared about his friends and family. He certainly wasn’t someone who deserved to die in such a senseless manner, not that anyone does.

When I think of Scott, I remember a loyal friend. A good-looking guy. A stylish dresser. A big Dave Matthews Band fan. A guy who loved to go fishing with his dad and who liked to hang out in his backyard pool with his mom. He was a fun-loving college kid. More importantly, he was a thoughtful person. Once, I mentioned how much I loved the Dave Matthews Band CD that was playing in his car — we were listening to a great live version of a song called “#41.” A few days later, Scott gave me a copy of the CD. I was touched that he remembered my comment and went out of his way to get me the CD. I haven’t been able to listen to “#41” for five years without crying, and I suspect I never will.

My friends have another vivid memory of Scott, one that I wasn’t there for. The night before he died, a group of them were sitting around, joking about what kind of kids they might have some day. They teased Scott about taking an hour to do his hair, and said that he’d probably end up with three girls who would fight him for the bathroom. He smiled and said, “Yeah well, at least they’ll all be good-looking and drive nice cars.” Everybody broke out laughing. That was Scott — always cracking a joke.

As you might imagine, this past weekend’s events brought back painful memories for my friends and me — and to his family, too, I’m sure. When Scott didn’t contact any of us or show up to work on May 25, 2002, we feared he was gone. It was so unlike him. Unfortunately, it was the beginning of Memorial Day weekend, and many people didn’t take a 20-year-old college guy’s disappearance seriously. Precious hours were lost — as you may know, experts say that the first 48 hours are crucial to solving missing persons cases. My friends and I took time off from work and school and gathered at his parents’ house, hoping he would come home. We put up fliers with Scott’s picture and information all over the city. Each weekend for the rest of the summer, we searched wooded areas for him and held car washes to raise money for the reward fund.

Slowly, sadly, we began to go on without Scott. We eventually graduated from college and landed our first jobs. Some of us got engaged or married. Some of us moved out of town. Of course, we wanted nothing more than for him to come home safely, but over the years, we reluctantly accepted that he had probably passed away.

But we never forgot about him. He never stopped being a part of our lives — and never will. I’ve moved my framed picture of Scott along with me to six different apartments — he’s always with me. We have to remind ourselves that although he’s not here physically, he’s in our hearts, in our spirits, every day. But still, I’m sad for the things Scott will miss — he will never get to fall in love again, never have a wedding, never have kids. That brings tears to my eyes, and I suspect that is one of the things that hurts his parents the most. I’m so sad for Merv and Doreena. They are wonderful people, and despite all their pain, even take time to volunteer for an organization dedicated to helping other families find their missing loved ones.

I can’t speak for everyone, but I think my friends and I are relieved to now know where Scott is. We will attend a memorial service and he will have a resting place, and we are thankful for that. But the search isn’t over — we still need to know what happened to Scott. If you have any information, I urge you to call the Vigo County Sheriff’s Department. We’ve been haunted by thoughts of what Scott must have gone through, what he might have felt before he died. But I’m going to try to remember Scott as he was when he was alive — always smiling, laughing, making jokes, doing someone a favor, having a good time.

We miss you and love you, Scotty J.

— Emily Hendricks