ALGOMA-MANITOULIN—Nibi, the spirits of the water, returned one of her daughters—whose earth walk had ended—to the shores of Sable-Spanish River in Ontario.
A woman yet to be named was found where Lake Huron folds into the reeds of the river near Webbwood. The discovery, quiet as a breath, spread quickly throughout the North Shore and Manitoulin Island — communities braced, like poplar trees waiting for a wind that might carry news too heavy to bear. The current carried instead, a woman in silence, as if the water itself could not bear to speak her name before her family heard it first.
For many, that wind might have carried the name of Juanita “Winnie” Migwans, missing since October 8, 2024—313 days now—her absence a forlorn howling in the lives of family, friends and a region already straining under the weight of too many gone. By some counts, seven or more Indigenous women remain missing from this stretch of Northern Ontario in recent open cases.
The OPP says they cannot yet name the woman the river returned. Foul play is “not suspected,” though the investigation is still open.
For Winnie’s father, Morris Ashcroft, waiting is its own form of drowning.
“I was disappointed when so many news media reported the initial body find, then nothing,” he wrote. “So many people on edge wondering if it was their loved one.”
His sister, MaryDale Ashcroft, says the family has heard—unofficially—that it is not their beloved. Therein a hope still flickers, but with it comes the cruel truth: if not Winnie, then whose daughter? Whose sister? Whose mother now takes another place in the long line of the missing women whose families continue to hang hope like drifting kites on the thinnest of threads?
Juanita Migwans’ family and loved ones refuse to let the shadows of her personal struggles obscure the fullness of who she was—and who they still hold hope she will one day become.
Police have no leads. None. Not a single trace to follow. That emptiness is why the reward—$100,000—is so high. It is a rare sum in missing-persons cases. And yet, her family believes the answer lives close by. That someone in M’Chigeeng knows, but fear has made their silence thick as ice.
“There is no amount of money that will get them to talk,” she says. “They are afraid for their lives.”
Winnie’s disappearance is not an isolated wound. This region has long been marked by cases that remain unsolved. Families from Sudbury to Manitoulin speak of cold files and colder silences. In window after window, like a strand of beads connecting communities, red dresses sway in the wind by the highway, laid bare as dauntless reminders that these women are still missing and unconditionally loved.
On Manitoulin, Winnie Migwans’ face continues to gaze down from billboards across the Island, imploring for someone to come forward.
In M’Chigeeng, a candlelight vigil cast her name in the soft light of fifty flames. Volunteers have searched through snow and spring mud. As of yet, Ms. Migwans appears to be gone without a trace.
But news like this does not drift in on its own. It will not wash ashore without hands reaching, voices asking, and the courage to speak what is known. Only through a collective pulling—families, neighbours, leaders—will the silence give way to answers.
Grief braids the North Shore to the Island, binding families, communities and Nations into a long shared inhale with no exhale in sight. From the corners of kitchen tables to council chambers, the waiting is palpable—taut, breathless—knowing that any news at all could shatter the fragile thread between hope and awful truth.
The burden should not rest with the families who have already been made to carry too much. It belongs to the systems charged with protecting them, to governments and institutions with the power to act. In this work, the compassion shown by the Manitoulin OPP and United Chiefs and Councils of Manitoulin Police is recognized — their search for answers steady and human in the face of profound loss. Yet answers will come only when all levels of authority match that urgency, and when the silence surrounding stolen women is no longer tolerated.
If the woman in the reeds is not Winnie, then what is her name? And who is missing her?
Anyone with information regarding either women is urged to call the OPP tip line at 1-833-941-9010.
