The entire narrative of the Lilly and Jack Sullivan disappearance just collapsed in a single, grainy, 42-second security clip.

On November 24, 2025, six months and three weeks after the children were reported missing, RCMP investigators confirmed they have crystal-clear surveillance footage, timestamped 4:17 p.m. on May 1, 2025, showing both Lilly (6) and Jack (4) alive, walking, and holding hands with two adults everyone instantly recognized:

Malehya Brooks-Murray (their mother) and Daniel Martell (her live-in partner).

The location? The busy parking lot of the Trenton Tim Hortons, 22 kilometres from their Lansdowne Station home, less than 18 hours before the frantic 911 call claiming the children had “wandered off” and vanished.

This is not a blurry still. This is high-definition, colour video from three separate angles.

Lilly is wearing the exact pink winter coat with the faux-fur hood that she had on in every missing poster. Jack is in his green dinosaur rain boots and carrying the blue stuffed triceratops he was clutching when he supposedly disappeared into the woods the next morning.

They are not distressed. They are not running. They are not lost.

They are laughing, skipping, and eating Timbits while Martell lifts Jack onto his shoulders and Brooks-Murray takes a selfie with all four of them smiling at the camera.

The timestamp is irrefutable: Wednesday, May 1, 2025, 4:17 p.m. The 911 call claiming they were missing came Thursday, May 2, 2025, at 10:01 a.m.

That is a 17-hour-and-44-minute gap the public has never been told existed.

Until now.

Sources inside the Major Crime Unit say the video was discovered only last week after investigators, spurred by the pink mitten find, issued a blanket subpoena for every commercial security camera within a 50-kilometre radius of the home, something that was never done in the original May search because the official story was “the kids never left the property.”

The Tim Hortons manager handed over the footage voluntarily when police finally showed up on November 20. She told officers she remembered the family clearly because Jack spilled an entire hot chocolate and Martell laughed, saying, “Classic Jack, he’ll be covered in mud by tomorrow anyway.”

That offhand comment, captured on the store’s interior audio, is now Exhibit #1.

RCMP held an emergency press conference at 3 p.m. yesterday. Corporal Jolene Garland looked like she hadn’t slept in days when she read a short, chilling statement:

“Investigators can confirm that both missing children, Lilly and Jack Sullivan, were seen alive and unharmed in the company of Malehya Brooks-Murray and Daniel Martell on the afternoon of May 1, 2025. This evidence is inconsistent with previous public statements that the children had not been off the property in the 24 hours prior to being reported missing. The investigation has now shifted to a criminal missing-persons file. No further details will be released at this time.”

She refused to take questions. The room erupted anyway.

Within an hour, every previous interview Brooks-Murray and Martell gave to CBC, CTV, and Global News was being dissected frame by frame.

May 3 press conference: Brooks-Murray, tears streaming, says, “They were playing in the yard all morning. I turned my back for five minutes…”

May 8 candlelight vigil: Martell, arm around her, tells the crowd, “They never even left the driveway the day before. We’re simple people. We don’t go anywhere.”

May 15 Facebook post from the “Find Lilly & Jack” page (administered by Brooks-Murray): “Our babies were home with us, safe, happy, and then, poof, gone.”

Every single statement now proven false by a smiling selfie in a Tim Hortons parking lot.

The public reaction has been volcanic.

The official Facebook page “Bring Lilly & Jack Home” lost 40,000 followers in six hours. Comments turned from prayers to pitchforks overnight.

One post, with 27,000 angry-face reacts, simply reads: “You had them at Tim Hortons 14 hours before you called 911 and told us they wandered off. Explain.”

Brooks-Murray and Martell have not been seen in public since the video leaked late last night. Their Truro apartment is dark, curtains drawn. A marked RCMP cruiser has been parked outside since 4 a.m.

Neighbours in Lansdowne Station say two unmarked SUVs arrived at the old house on Gairloch Road at dawn today. Officers in Tyvek suits were seen carrying out bags from the locked shed that was supposedly “just storage.”

The pink mitten, the Tim Hortons video, the sudden criminal designation; pieces that made no sense for six months are now snapping together with horrifying speed.

As of 9 a.m. this morning, the RCMP tipline has been flooded with new calls, many from people who say they saw the family that same week at the New Glasgow Walmart, the Pictou County Arena, even a McDonald’s PlayPlace in Antigonish.

One caller, a pediatric nurse, claims she treated Jack for an ear infection at the Aberdeen Hospital walk-in clinic on the evening of May 1, less than four hours after the Tim Hortons video. She says she remembers because Lilly read her a story from a waiting-room book while they waited.

All of it, every sighting, every receipt, every smile, captured in the 24 hours before the world was told two small children simply walked into the woods and were never seen again.

Six months of yellow ribbons, search parties, and national heartbreak built on a lie that lasted exactly 17 hours and 44 minutes.

That lie is over.

Somewhere tonight, two little coats, one pink, one covered in dinosaurs, are hanging in an evidence locker.

And Canada is asking the only question that matters now:

What really happened to Lilly and Jack Sullivan after they ate those Timbits?