Beneath the Surface: The Search for Michael “Lloyd” Reese

The morning sun cut across the waters of East Canyon Reservoir, casting streaks of gold over the rippling lake. To the casual onlooker, it was just another beautiful day in the Utah mountains. But for the dozens gathered at the marina—the divers in black wetsuits, the sheriff’s deputies, the camera crews—this was no ordinary day. This was the day a decades‑old mystery might finally give up its secret.

Standing at the edge of the dock, Thunder Alexander clutched the rail with both hands. She had waited thirty‑five years for this moment. Thirty‑five years since her younger brother, Michael Lloyd Reese, had vanished on a crisp night in 1985. Thirty‑five years of wondering: had he run away? Was he still alive somewhere? Or had he, like so many before him, disappeared into the cold, dark waters below?

And now, thanks to a ragtag team of civilian divers with a YouTube channel, she might finally have an answer.

The Team That Does What Police Can’t

At the center of the operation was Jared Lysak, a bearded, soft‑spoken man with the look of a seasoned outdoorsman and the calm of someone who had stared into murky water many times before. His channel, Adventures With Purpose, had started as an environmental cleanup project—removing junk cars from lakes and rivers. But it had evolved into something far more powerful: a volunteer search‑and‑recovery unit solving cold cases the authorities had long abandoned.

Alongside Jared was Sam, his closest diving partner. Sam had the sturdy frame of a firefighter and the methodical patience of a chess player. Doug, the team’s logistics man, kept the equipment running and the chaos organized. And then there was Ethan, a young diver eager to prove himself, and a rotating crew of friends and volunteers—people drawn to the cause by equal parts curiosity and compassion.

“We’re civilians,” Jared explained to the assembled crowd that morning. “We don’t have red tape. We have donors, viewers, and our own hands. That’s why we can do this.”

Their gear was impressive: military‑grade sonar systems, inflatable lift bags, and an old army boat retrofitted for diving operations. It was clunky but powerful, with Detroit Diesel engines that could tow almost anything from the depths.

But the stakes today were different. They weren’t just cleaning up a lake. They were looking for a boy.

The Disappearance

Michael Lloyd Reese had been only fourteen when he vanished. On that winter night in 1985, he had left his sister’s house to meet friends. With him was twenty‑one‑year‑old David Jaramillo, driving a brown Datsun B210. They were last seen heading toward East Canyon Reservoir. Neither returned home.

Searches at the time had been limited. The terrain was rugged, the water deep, and dam security strict. The years rolled on. The family received no answers—only rumors. Some said Lloyd had run away. Others whispered of drunk driving, foul play, or even murder.

But Thunder never stopped believing he was near the lake. “The road by the dam is dangerous,” she often told people. “One bad turn, and you’re in the deepest part of the water. Nobody would ever find you.”

Day One: The Scan

By mid‑morning, the team had deployed their “tow fish”—a torpedo‑shaped sonar scanner—into the dark water. It sent out pulses, mapping the contours of the lake bottom in ghostly streaks on a screen. Sam zigzagged the boat to cover every inch of the search area.

The sheriff’s office watched from shore, along with the Bureau of Reclamation and state wildlife officers. Cameras weren’t allowed to point toward the dam; national security rules were strict. Everyone understood the sensitivity.

For hours, the sonar revealed nothing but rock outcroppings, sheer cliffs, and silt. Then, just as the sun began to dip, a faint outline appeared on the screen—a shape that might be a vehicle. Jared and Sam exchanged a look.

They had a target.

The Dive

Diving to 100 feet in a mountain reservoir is no simple feat. The water is near freezing. Light fades quickly. Silt hangs like a cloud, swallowing the beams of flashlights. But Jared and Sam were used to this. With Ethan assisting from the surface, they suited up and dropped into the dark.

At eighty feet, visibility was decent. At ninety, Jared could barely see his own hands. He swept forward slowly, feeling along the silted bottom. And then—metal.

He ran his gloved fingers over a wheel well, a door handle, the curved roof of a vehicle. He tugged at something loose and surfaced minutes later, holding a mud‑covered floor mat. “There’s a car,” he said between breaths. “It’s blue. I don’t know what kind. But it’s down there.”

It wasn’t the Datsun they were hoping for. But it was something.

Day Two: The Lift

The next morning dawned crisp and clear. The team had identified the vehicle: an early‑90s Toyota 4Runner, stolen in 1993 and written off by an insurance company. Not the mystery they were chasing—but still a mystery.

They decided to bring it up.

Using heavy‑duty rigging, Jared wrapped straps around the B‑pillar of the vehicle, the only accessible part not buried in silt. One by one, he attached inflatable lift bags—each capable of thousands of pounds of buoyancy—and filled them with air from the scuba tanks.

From the boat, everyone waited. The water bulged. Then three yellow bags rocketed out of the surface—only to collapse and sink. The car hadn’t moved.

When they pulled up the line, an entire door came with it. The force of the lift had ripped the B‑pillar clean off. The vehicle was still on the bottom.

They were running out of air, out of daylight, and out of permission from the authorities. But they weren’t ready to quit.

The Final Attempt

“We have one more shot,” Jared told the crew. He and Sam dove again, this time wrapping the straps around the front wheel assembly—one of the few parts still exposed. If it held, they could lift. If it broke, the car would stay at the bottom forever.

Ethan tried to follow but surfaced after only thirty feet, pale and shaken. “That’s the scariest thing I’ve ever done,” he gasped. “You can’t see. You can’t breathe. It’s like being buried alive.”

But Jared and Sam kept working. They attached new lift bags, filled them with air. This time, when the bags broke the surface, they stayed inflated. The car was rising.

Slowly, a shadow appeared below the water. The crowd on the boat erupted in cheers. After nearly thirty years, the Toyota 4Runner was coming back to the surface.

The Tow

With the vehicle suspended just below the waterline, the team lashed it to the army boat and began towing it toward the marina. The engines strained under the weight—nearly 12,000 pounds of steel and silt—but they held. At one point the car snagged on an underwater cable, threatening to rip free. Divers scrambled to lift it over. Finally, they broke free.

Onshore, hundreds of people waited: deputies, journalists, boaters, curious locals. Some whispered that this might be the missing Datsun. Others prayed for closure.

As the boat approached, cameras flashed. The mud‑covered SUV broke the surface like a breaching whale.

The Reveal

Sheriff’s deputies surrounded the vehicle as it was winched onto a rollback tow truck. Jared, Sam, and Thunder stood nearby, silent. This could still be a crime scene.

Working carefully, they searched the interior—through mud, silt, and decayed upholstery—for any sign of human remains. There were none.

It was a stolen vehicle, dumped in the lake sometime in the 1990s. No foul play. No victims. Just another artifact of a past crime.

Thunder exhaled, her shoulders sagging. She had hoped for closure, but at least she had an answer: her brother was not in the 4Runner.

Aftermath: The Characters’ Endings

Jared Lysak
For Jared, the recovery was bittersweet. They hadn’t found Lloyd Reese, but they had proven something: East Canyon Reservoir could be searched, even in its deepest, most restricted parts. His team had shown what dedication and unconventional methods could do. As he packed up his gear, he promised Thunder they would keep looking. “This isn’t over,” he said. “We’re not done.”

Sam
Sam sat on the edge of the dock, peeling off his wetsuit. He had been diving for hours, risking entanglement and hypothermia. But he was already thinking about the next case. “Every car has a story,” he murmured. “We just have to find it.”

Ethan
For Ethan, the day was a turning point. He had discovered his limits, tasted fear, and come back up. But instead of quitting, he decided to train harder. “Next time,” he said, “I’m making it to the bottom.”

Thunder Alexander
Thunder stood by the water, clutching a photograph of her brother. She had watched strangers risk their lives for a boy they’d never met. That, she realized, was its own kind of closure. “For thirty‑five years,” she said quietly, “we’ve been waiting for someone to care enough to try. Today, someone did.”

Michael “Lloyd” Reese
His fate remained unknown. But now the family knew where he wasn’t. The search area had narrowed. New tips would come in. And maybe, someday soon, Lloyd would be found.

The Meaning of the Search

That evening, as the sun dipped behind the hills, the marina emptied. The sheriff’s deputies loaded their trucks. The Bureau of Reclamation closed the steel gates to the dam. And the army boat, its paint chipped and hull streaked with mud, sat rocking gently in its slip.

For the team of volunteers, it was another case unfinished. But it was also another step forward. Another family helped, another lake a little cleaner, another mystery chipped away.

“People ask why law enforcement doesn’t do this,” Jared said later. “It’s not that they don’t care. They just don’t have the tools, the time, or the freedom. We’re filling a gap. We’re giving families hope.”

In the world of cold cases, hope is sometimes the only thing left.

Epilogue: A Promise Kept

Weeks later, Thunder received a message from Jared. He had posted the video of the recovery to his channel. Millions watched as the team dove into the dark, battled silt and fear, and hauled the 4Runner to the surface. Comments poured in from around the world: offers of tips, donations, prayers.

For Thunder, the search had moved from a private grief to a public mission. People she’d never met now knew her brother’s name. They cared.

And somewhere out there—perhaps in another lake, perhaps buried off a mountain road—Michael Lloyd Reese still waited. But thanks to Adventures With Purpose, he would not be forgotten.

Thunder looked out over the reservoir one last time before heading home. The water was calm again, hiding its secrets. But she felt something shift inside her.

The waiting was over. The searching had begun.