The SUV Beneath the Surface: Adam Brown and Jeremy Sides’ Search for Herman Matthew Gamble

The summer sun blazed down on Alabama, a relentless curtain of heat shimmering above the cracked asphalt. Adam Brown wiped the sweat from his forehead, glanced toward the still water of a neighborhood lake, and exhaled.

“Let’s just get in the water,” he muttered. “Let’s go for a dive and see what’s down there.”

Beside him, Jeremy Sides adjusted his cap, eyes narrowing toward the waterline. Together, the two men had spent countless hours exploring forgotten lakes and murky rivers—divers not for treasure, but for truth. Their mission wasn’t fame, nor fortune. It was to bring closure to families who had spent years haunted by the unknown.

Today, their focus was a man named Herman Matthew Gamble.

The Vanished Security Guard

The last place Herman was seen was the Green Lantern Sports Bar, now a shuttered building whose faded green paint peeled like dead bark. It once buzzed with laughter, neon lights, and late-night chatter. But now, it stood quiet—just another ghost along Highway 216.

“He was last seen right here,” Jeremy explained to the camera, gesturing toward the decaying building. “He left this place driving a red, older model Chevy Silverado—and then he just vanished.”

There were few clues. No confirmed direction. No witness who’d seen him crash or stop for gas. Just that he had supposedly been heading down County Road 216 toward home. Somewhere along that lonely stretch, he disappeared.

Adam scanned the road ahead, where the asphalt curved past thick Alabama pines. “He was a security guard here,” he said, “and lived somewhere down that way. We’ll start there—there’s a few ponds and small lakes right off the road curves. If nothing turns up, we’ll move on toward Tuscaloosa and check the river.”

The plan was simple but grimly familiar: search every body of water until something breaks the silence.

The RC Boat and the Hidden Depths

The first stop of the day was a small neighborhood boat ramp, fenced off and forgotten. The air was still. Not even a ripple moved across the water’s surface.

“This ramp’s gated,” Adam said, “but that wouldn’t stop someone who wanted to dump a car here.”

Jeremy nodded. He reached into the truck bed and lifted out a custom-built RC sonar boat—a Frankenstein creation made from a boogie board, a sonar unit, and a wireless transmitter.

“This little thing’s a lifesaver,” he said with a grin. “It sends sonar images right to my phone. No need to launch the big boat.”

They set it in the water. The tiny craft buzzed forward, slicing through the reflections of cypress trees and clouds. On the screen, sonar lines flickered—a deep pit here, a submerged log there. And something else—hundreds of fish swarming just below the surface.

“Holy smokes,” Adam laughed. “Look at all those bluegill. Somebody must be feeding them. Good fishing spot, though.”

But they weren’t here for fish. They were here for answers.

The sonar readout flashed: 16 feet. Then 24. The lake was deeper than expected—dark, cold water where a vehicle could easily vanish from sight.

After several passes, the screen remained clean. “Nothing,” Jeremy sighed. “But honestly, this would’ve been the perfect spot to dump a car.”

They packed up and moved on.

A Shadow Beneath the Surface

The second lake wasn’t far—still part of the same water system, just around the bend. Another quiet access point, another chance.

“We’re looking for a big red truck,” Adam said, lowering the RC boat once again.

The boat zipped across the surface, tracing slow, patient lines. “Do another pass closer to the wall,” Jeremy called. “If he drove along here and the ground was soft, the truck could’ve just slid right in.”

Moments passed. Then silence. Then—

“Uh,” Adam said, squinting at the screen. “There’s a vehicle.”

Jeremy froze. “You serious?”

“Oh crap,” Adam breathed. “Found a car.”

The sonar image was unmistakable: a large shape with four wheels, a roofline, and a shadow beneath. It wasn’t debris. It wasn’t a rock. It was a vehicle—and it was resting directly in front of a small dock.

“That’s an SUV,” Jeremy said, voice low. “Or maybe the cab of a truck.”

They exchanged a look—half excitement, half dread.

“Let’s do the drone first,” Adam said finally. “See what we’re dealing with.”

The Dive Drone Descends

The air shimmered with heat as they unpacked the Chasing underwater drone. It looked like a bright yellow torpedo with propellers—small, fast, and deadly efficient. Adam piloted it from a shaded spot onshore, trying to keep the glare off his monitor.

The drone dipped beneath the surface, and the murky green world came alive on screen.

At first, only silt and drifting leaves appeared. Then—a shape emerged. Metallic, curved, dusted in sediment.

“Right there,” Jeremy said quietly. “That’s it.”

They maneuvered closer. The image sharpened—a familiar silhouette. A Chevrolet SUV, its body cloaked in algae, its windows sealed shut. The drone’s lights danced across the license plate, where something strange caught their attention.

The plate was perfectly clean.

Everything else—doors, roof, mirrors—was coated in years of muck. But the license tag gleamed like someone had wiped it yesterday.

“That’s… weird,” Adam murmured. “Makes you wonder if someone already dove here and scrubbed it off.”

Still, a tag was a tag. It was something to report.

A Tag, a Mystery, and an Answer

They called local law enforcement to report the find. Within minutes, a pair of officers arrived, their patrol car tires crunching gravel.

“What’s going on?” one asked, wiping sweat from his brow.

“Found an SUV underwater,” Jeremy said. “Got a tag off it.”

The officer scribbled down the number: 7AD 4365.

A few minutes later, confusion crossed his face. “That tag comes back to a Ford Ranger,” he said.

Jeremy blinked. “It says Chevrolet on the back of the vehicle.”

They double-checked the number. It matched. Something didn’t add up.

A second officer approached, looking skeptical. “That truck’s been out there a long time,” he said. “Maybe five years. The HOA knows about it.”

Jeremy frowned. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Somebody already reported it before. Been sitting down there ever since.”

The realization hit them like a wave.

So it wasn’t Herman’s truck. It wasn’t a new discovery. It was a ghost from another mystery—one already buried beneath time and bureaucracy.

“Well,” Adam said, half laughing. “Case closed, I guess.”

The Emotional Weight of the Work

They packed their gear in silence, the late afternoon sun bleeding gold across the water.

Adam leaned against the truck, staring out at the calm lake that had once swallowed an SUV whole. “You know,” he said quietly, “it never gets easier.”

Jeremy nodded. “We don’t do this for money. We do it because someone’s waiting for an answer. Somewhere, there’s a family that deserves to know.”

Every dive, every sonar scan, every lake—they carried the weight of someone’s hope. Sometimes it led to closure. Sometimes to heartbreak. Sometimes, like today, to a dead end.

But they kept going.

Why They Keep Searching

Adam Brown and Jeremy Sides have seen things most people can’t imagine—cars rusting in black water, lost memories trapped beneath silt and roots. For them, diving isn’t a thrill-seeking hobby; it’s a calling.

They work on their own time, fund their own trips, and spend sweltering days scanning lakes most people overlook. Each beep of the sonar is a question: Could this be the one? Could this be the answer?

They know the odds. They know the heartbreak. But they also know what it feels like to hand closure to a family that’s been waiting for years. To look a mother in the eye and say, “We found him. He’s coming home.”

Those moments make every failure worth it.

As the day ended, Jeremy looked at Adam and smiled tiredly. “We’re doing the job right,” he said. “And it’s a good thing we’re doing.”

Adam nodded, starting the truck. “Let’s head to Tuscaloosa tomorrow. There’s still the river to check.”

And with that, the two men drove off, the setting sun casting long shadows across the Alabama hills—two friends, two divers, chasing ghosts through water and time.

Epilogue: The Search Never Ends

The road toward Tuscaloosa stretched empty and endless. Behind them, the lakes reflected the orange sky, hiding their secrets in silence.

For Adam and Jeremy, each case begins the same way—with a name, a vehicle, and a question mark. But what drives them isn’t curiosity; it’s compassion.

Because somewhere out there, a family still waits by the phone, hoping for news. Somewhere, a car still lies beneath the surface, its story untold.

And somewhere, two men in a truck are already on their way, ready to dive into the dark once again.

“We are the ones finding answers for families desperate to heal,” Jeremy once said.
And he meant every word.