In the vast, unforgiving expanse of the Gulf of Mexico, where calm waters can turn treacherous in an instant, the story of two missing Florida attorneys captured the nation’s attention over the holiday season. Randall “Randy” Spivey, a 57-year-old respected personal injury lawyer from Fort Myers, and his 33-year-old nephew Brandon Billmaier, a rising trial attorney based in Boca Raton, vanished during what was supposed to be a routine deep-sea fishing trip. What began as a desperate search involving helicopters, boats, and volunteers from across the Southeast ended in heartbreak on December 31, 2025, when authorities announced the recovery of a key piece of evidence: the shirt Brandon Billmaier was wearing on the day he disappeared. With this discovery, law enforcement declared the active phase of the case closed, shifting it to a recovery effort and presuming the worst for both men.
The ordeal started innocently enough on the morning of December 19, 2025. Spivey and Billmaier, uncle and nephew bound by family ties and a shared profession in law, set out from a private residence in Fort Myers aboard Spivey’s 42-foot Freeman fishing boat. They planned to venture approximately 100 miles offshore for a day of fishing—a pastime both men loved. Spivey, described by colleagues as a dedicated advocate for the injured, had decades of experience on the water. Billmaier, newly married and full of ambition, had followed in his uncle’s footsteps, joining the Shiner Law Group in Boca Raton in 2023. Friends and family noted their excitement; it was meant to be a bonding trip amid the busy holiday rush.
By evening, when no word came from the pair, alarm bells rang. Billmaier’s wife, Deborah, a travel enthusiast who had explored over 30 countries with her husband, contacted the U.S. Coast Guard around 9 p.m. A massive response ensued. Overnight, a Coast Guard helicopter located the boat adrift about 70 miles west of Fort Myers—engine still running, gear in place, but eerily empty. No signs of struggle were reported, though two life jackets were missing, offering a sliver of hope that the men had donned them after falling overboard.
The search that followed was one of the largest in recent Gulf history. Over three full days, Coast Guard crews, supported by aircraft, vessels from partner agencies, and dozens of civilian volunteers from Florida and neighboring states, scoured nearly 7,000 square miles of ocean. Conditions were challenging: currents strong, visibility variable, and the vastness of the sea relentless. Family members clung to optimism, with Deborah Billmaier posting emotional pleas on social media, offering rewards and sharing stories of Brandon’s kindness and Randy’s selflessness.
On December 22, as sunset approached, the Coast Guard made the agonizing call to suspend active search-and-rescue operations. Captain Corrie Sergent, sector commander for St. Petersburg, called it “no harder decision,” praising the exhaustive efforts but noting survival odds diminished sharply after days in open water. The family, in a poignant statement, supported the move: “Randy and Brandon would never want anyone else to risk their lives. We know everything possible was done.” They emphasized the men’s character—how both prioritized safety and helping others.
The case didn’t end there. The FBI stepped in immediately, assuming jurisdiction as a federal missing persons investigation due to the offshore location beyond state waters. Theories abounded: accidental fall overboard during fishing, perhaps one man going in to help the other; mechanical failure; or even foul play, though no evidence supported the latter. The empty, running boat suggested a sudden event, with no distress call transmitted.
As Christmas came and went quietly for the grieving families, attention turned to passive monitoring—watching for debris or sightings along currents that could carry items toward distant shores. Then, on New Year’s Eve eve, a breakthrough that shattered remaining illusions. Fishermen off the Florida coast, near the Dry Tortugas, reported spotting fabric tangled in debris. Recovered and identified through distinctive features and family confirmation, it was the dark-colored shirt Brandon Billmaier had been last seen wearing—faded from saltwater exposure, torn in places consistent with prolonged immersion.
Authorities from the FBI and Coast Guard jointly announced the find on December 31. “This recovery provides critical evidence in understanding the fate of Mr. Billmaier and Mr. Spivey,” a spokesperson said. Forensic analysis confirmed saltwater degradation and no signs of violence, aligning with accidental drowning. Currents models retroactively mapped suggested the shirt could have drifted from the original site, supporting the timeline.
With this, officials declared the search-and-rescue phase officially closed, reclassifying the case as a recovery operation with presumed fatalities. “There is no more reasonable hope for survival,” the statement read somberly. The Gulf’s dangers—hypothermia, dehydration, sharks, exhaustion—were cited as likely factors. No bodies have been recovered, a common outcome in open-ocean incidents where remains often sink or disperse.
The news rippled through legal communities in Fort Myers and Boca Raton. At Shiner Law Group, where Billmaier was celebrated as an “exceptional lawyer and friend,” colleagues mourned deeply. David Shiner issued a heartfelt tribute: “Brandon brought passion to every case, just like his uncle Randy. Their loss leaves a void in our firm and in countless lives they touched.” Tributes highlighted their shared commitment to justice, helping accident victims navigate hardship—ironic, given their own tragic end.
For the families, the shirt’s discovery brought a bitter mix of closure and pain. Deborah Billmaier, who had held out for a “Christmas miracle,” shared a final message: “Brandon was my greatest love, my adventure partner. Knowing what happened doesn’t ease the ache, but it ends the endless wondering.” Spivey’s wife and children echoed similar sentiments, requesting privacy as they plan memorials.
This tragedy underscores the Gulf’s deceptive beauty. Thousands venture out annually for fishing, yet incidents like this remind us of nature’s power. Safety experts renewed calls for EPIRBs (emergency beacons), personal locator devices, and mandatory check-ins—items reportedly aboard but possibly not activated in a sudden mishap.
As 2026 begins, the waters off Florida continue their eternal rhythm. Randy Spivey and Brandon Billmaier, two men who spent their lives fighting for the vulnerable, are now part of those waters. Their story—a cautionary tale of loss at sea—serves as a somber reminder that even the most prepared can face the unimaginable. For their loved ones, the shirt marks the end of hope, but the beginning of healing through memory.
The case may remain open indefinitely for recovery purposes, but for all practical intents, the sea has claimed its own. In the words of one rescuer: “The ocean gives and takes without warning. This time, it took two good men.”
