Instead of simply reporting on the news, we have found ourselves in the centre of a terribly sad story.

Fifteen-year-old Brandon Crisp left home Thanksgiving Monday after his parents grounded him from playing his Xbox game, Call of Duty. His mom, Angelika, works here as an advertising rep, and although often us editorial types don’t mingle with ad reps, I feel very comfortable with Angelika and would find myself chatting with her.

The past week has been a bit of a blur, a bit overwhelming as on Monday morning, the time arrived to write about the Crisps’ struggle to bring Brandon home. We had seen posters in the office and had received e-mail bulletins throughout the weekend.

Monday morning, I had to go to talk to Angelika to write a front-page story. I couldn’t imagine her panic: I know that if I lose sight of my 15-year-old daughter with autism in a grocery store for five minutes, my heart sinks and fills with fear. For Angelika, it had been a week since she last saw her son.

When I had to talk to Angelika, it was pretty tough. I put my press hat on and pressed on, did the interview and wrote the story. I prayed that the story would touch the right person and spur them on to give police the critical link in quickly finding Brandon.

I talked to police, to school staff, to a University of Toronto lecturer on video game design. I realized I had little understanding of the pressures Brandon faced and where he might go.

Initially, I blamed police for giving him such a head start, and commented that by last weekend, he could be halfway to Vancouver. Still, I had to respect police and their protocols, although I didn’t understand them.

(I’m not a crime reporter; a police reporter would shed light on this, and I was no more able to answer those questions than anyone asking those questions of me on the front line).

I saw the Advance’s staff begin to pull together as e-mails continued, as donations of food, money and time were offered to Angelika and her family.

This pulling together of community is culminating this weekend in a three-day search that is using fluorescent traffic vests from both Simcoe County and the City of Barrie. Within an hour, both governments were responding to our request for help. 

We had all we needed, and more, by noon Thursday – thanks to a couple of my faithful sources. (They know who they are – and are likely reading this.)

The day before, the county, Georgian College and the Royal Victoria Hospital sent out e-mails and encouraged staff and students to keep an eye open for Brandon. They used their e-mail systems, their social sites and their internal, informal networks to add to the team looking for Brandon.

Businesses too, are joining in the search this weekend, with hundreds of cups of coffee from Tim Hortons and water for volunteers from Zehrs. Others have donated food, equipment, even photocopying.

All too often we are busy doing our own thing. Life does get busy and overwhelming – yet when the crunch comes, it’s comforting to see that despite our differing agendas, despite the busy-ness and demands of every day, we can each help in our own unique way, using our own resources and creating a more vibrant, more caring community.