It’s hard to believe it has already been a year since the disappearance of Joshlin Smith. When I first came across her story, I told myself I wouldn’t dive into another missing child case. The heartbreak, the uncertainty—it was too much. But there was something about Joshlin that I couldn’t ignore. Those little green eyes stayed with me, staring at me in a way I couldn’t shake. I knew I had to follow up on this case.
My colleague Kim Kay and I decided to travel to Saldanha Bay, where Joshlin lived, on our own. This wasn’t something my management had requested—it was something we had to do. It felt like we needed to go, and neither of us could explain why. When we arrived in Saldanha, we had no connections, no set plan, just our instincts to guide us.
The views around Saldanha Bay were stunning, but when we drove into Middlepos, where Joshlin’s family resided, my heart sank. The conditions were far beyond anything I had imagined. It was a harsh reality—a reminder of how fortunate I am. The area wasn’t entirely like this, but no child should have to live in such squalor. The situation was inhumane. But despite the starkness of the surroundings, the community welcomed us warmly. The hospitality from the people there was overwhelming. We were strangers, but they opened their arms to us, offering help as we searched for the little girl who had gone missing.
We joined the search efforts with heavy hearts, hoping against hope that today would be the day we found Joshlin. It wasn’t about the story or the exposure—it was about finding this child who had gone missing and could have been lost forever. As we walked through the area, joined by strangers who had no personal connection to Joshlin but cared deeply about finding her, I was reminded of what South Africa truly is about: unity, Ubuntu.
Unfortunately, after hours of searching, we found nothing new. Disappointment hung heavily in the air. On our drive back home, I felt conflicted. I had done what I could, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that we hadn’t done enough. That night, I sat in silence, praying for Joshlin, for her family, for her community. I prayed that wherever she was, she was safe.
Days later, we headed back to Saldanha Bay. This time, I knew things were about to shift. A source had told me that arrests were imminent. I packed my bags quickly, leaving behind everything to go back to Saldanha. We joined the search again, this time focusing on the beach. We had built stronger rapport with the community, and I felt a renewed sense of purpose.
That night, I wrote an article claiming arrests had been made, though I was still waiting for official confirmation. The response on social media wasn’t kind. Accusations of “fake news” and “unethical journalism” came pouring in. But, two hours later, the same individuals who criticized me were reporting the same information I had shared earlier. The truth came out, but the damage was done. I was threatened online, berated for doing my job. Yet, I refused to let the hate silence me. Joshlin’s story needed to be told, and I was going to continue telling it, no matter the cost.
As the case developed and her mother, Kelly, along with a co-accused, stepped into the dock at the Vredenburg Magistrate’s Court, I felt disgusted. My emotions were raw, but the people of Saldanha Bay showed me something incredible: resilience. They may not have been allowed in the courtroom, but their hearts were there, supporting Joshlin’s case every step of the way.
Months have passed, but Joshlin’s story still lingers in my mind. I think about her often, about the empty desk at her school that still waits for her. My niece asks me about the case and wonders where Joshlin could be if she isn’t found. Sadly, I don’t have the answers. And I refuse to speak of her in the past tense. Nothing in this world has suggested that she isn’t still out there, waiting to be found.
As we climb into our warm beds each night, let’s take a moment to pray for Joshlin. Let’s hope wherever she is, she is being cared for, kept safe, and given the warmth and protection she deserves. The search continues, and as long as there’s breath in my body, I will keep telling her story. One day, I hope she will be able to tell it herself.
