Where Is E?

Where Is E? Eighteen Years Without Edmond Webster

He was my brother's best friend. He became part of our family. In 2008, he disappeared, and almost two decades later, we're still waiting for answers.

Let me tell you about a man named E.

His real name was Edmond Isiah Webster, but growing up, I knew him as E.

And if you knew my brother, you knew E.

My brother's nickname is Pinton. That's what everybody has called him for as long as I can remember. And when I tell you Pinton and E were ace boon coons, I mean those two were practically attached at the hip.

You saw one, you saw the other.

And on the rare occasion you didn't see them together, one of three things was happening.

E was on his way to Pinton.

Pinton was on his way to E.

Or one of them had just left the other.

That's it. Those were your options.

I'm the youngest of five children, so I couldn't tell you exactly when Edmond first came into our lives. I don't remember the day my brother brought him around or how their friendship started.

What I do remember is that once E showed up, he stayed.

He became one of those people you didn't think twice about seeing around the house. You didn't ask why he was there. You didn't need an explanation.

He was E.

He belonged.

And somewhere along the way, my brother's best friend became family.

I wish I could tell you a hundred funny stories about them growing up. Maybe after I sit down with my brother, I'll be able to share some. But I'm not going to invent memories just to make this article more entertaining.

What I can tell you is that I remember their friendship.

I remember the consistency.

And I remember what it felt like to have someone around so often that you never considered the possibility of them simply disappearing.

Until that's exactly what happened.

May 12, 2008

According to publicly available missing-person information, Edmond Isiah Webster was last seen on May 12, 2008, in Kansas City, Missouri.

He was 35 years old.

He reportedly left the 3000 block of York Avenue around 8 that morning, supposedly headed toward Kansas City, Kansas.

The following day, his vehicle was discovered abandoned at an apartment complex in the 3600 block of North Chouteau.

But E wasn't there.

And as far as the publicly available information tells us, nobody has seen him since.

Think about that for a minute.

A grown man leaves one location, reportedly headed somewhere else. His vehicle turns up the next day at an apartment complex, and he is nowhere to be found.

Where did he go?

Who was the last person to see him?

How did his vehicle end up there?

And who, if anybody, knows something they haven't told investigators?

These aren't unreasonable questions.

They're the questions that have followed his family and friends for eighteen years.

Eighteen Years. Let That Sink In.

It's October 2026 as I write this.

In a few months, it will be 2027.

And in May 2028, Edmond Webster will have been missing for twenty years.

Twenty.

Fucking.

Years.

Do you understand how long that is?

Children grow up in twenty years. People graduate from school, build careers, get married, have babies, and watch those babies become adults.

Entire lives happen in twenty years.

Meanwhile, there are people who still don't know what happened to someone they love.

My brother is one of those people.

And I don't think people understand what that kind of uncertainty does to someone.

Pinton didn't just lose contact with an old friend.

He lost the person who was always there.

His right-hand man.

His ace boon coon.

Someone who had been part of his everyday life for so long that their friendship was practically a package deal.

And there was no explanation.

No final conversation that we know of.

No answer that makes any of this make sense.

Just a missing man and an abandoned vehicle.

I can tell you that this has been eating at my brother for years.

I've seen what Edmond's absence has meant to him.

And at this point, I am tired of wondering.

He Was More Than a Missing-Person Report

I want to address something that matters to me.

Edmond was a Black man from Kansas City, Missouri.

He lived a life that some people might judge.

He was involved in the streets. He hustled. He was associated with gangs.

I'm not going to pretend otherwise.

But let me ask you something.

What does any of that have to do with whether his disappearance deserves to be investigated?

Does a person have to live a perfect life to deserve to be found?

Does he have to work a nine-to-five, own a house in the suburbs, and have a spotless record before people decide his life matters?

Because if that's the standard, we're in serious trouble.

Edmond was somebody's father.

He was somebody's son.

He was my brother's best friend.

He was E.

And whatever choices he made during his lifetime do not erase the people who loved him or their right to seek answers.

I don't know whether investigators have treated his case differently because of his background. I haven't seen the complete investigative file, and I'm not going to make that accusation without evidence.

But I do know that people with complicated lives still deserve serious investigations when they disappear.

And I know that eighteen years is a long time to live without answers.

The Car Is What I Keep Coming Back To

There's something about the vehicle that bothers me.

According to the public case information, Edmond's car was found the day after he disappeared at an apartment complex on North Chouteau.

That location stands out to me because, from what I knew of E, it wasn't somewhere I associated with him.

Now, I understand that people go places their friends and family don't know about. I'm not claiming to know everywhere Edmond went.

But when a person disappears and their vehicle turns up somewhere unexpected, isn't that worth examining?

Who found the car?

Was it locked?

Were his belongings inside?

Did anyone see him arrive?

Did anyone see somebody else driving it?

Were there witnesses?

Were fingerprints or other evidence collected?

And if evidence was collected in 2008, has any of it been tested again using technology that wasn't available back then?

I don't know the answers.

That's the problem.

I don't know what investigators found, what leads they pursued, or what evidence they may still have.

And after eighteen years, I want to find out what information can legally be shared.

I'm Not Waiting Another Twenty Years

I've decided that I want to take a more active role in finding answers about Edmond.

I'm reaching out to the Kansas City Police Department's Homicide/Missing Persons Unit to request an update on the investigation.

I want to know who is currently assigned to his case.

I want to know whether investigators have revisited the evidence.

I want to know whether there have been new leads, additional interviews, or developments that can be shared with the people who still care about him.

I also intend to find out what records I can legally request under the Missouri Sunshine Law.

And I am seriously considering hiring an experienced private investigator to independently examine whatever information is available.

Not because I believe I can walk into a nearly twenty-year-old case and magically solve it.

Not because I think watching true-crime documentaries makes me a detective.

But because I cannot keep looking at my brother and knowing that this question has been sitting in his heart for almost two decades.

Where is E?

That's it.

That's the question.

I don't need a dramatic television ending.

I don't need somebody to manufacture a suspect or tell me a story they can't prove.

I need facts.

I need answers.

And if the truth is painful, then the truth is painful.

But at least it would be the truth.

Somebody Knows Something

I believe there may be people who know more about Edmond's last movements than the public has been told.

That doesn't mean I know a crime occurred or who might have been responsible. His disappearance remains unresolved.

But somebody may remember something.

A conversation.

A vehicle.

A person he was supposed to meet.

Something that seemed insignificant in May 2008 but might mean something now.

And maybe that person has never realized how important their information could be.

If you knew Edmond Isiah Webster, if you remember his disappearance, or if you have firsthand information about what happened around May 12, 2008, please contact the Kansas City Police Department.

Please don't use rumors or speculation to accuse people publicly.

This is a real man with a real family.

They have already endured enough uncertainty.

To My Brother, Pinton

I don't know if I've ever told you how much I understand what E meant to you.

I was the little sister.

The youngest of five.

I wasn't sitting in on every conversation or following you two around everywhere you went.

But I saw enough.

I saw a friendship that lasted.

I saw two people who were so connected that you almost couldn't mention one without mentioning the other.

And I know that when Edmond disappeared, a part of your world changed.

I cannot promise you that I'll find him.

I cannot promise that an investigator will uncover something police haven't already discovered.

I can't promise you a happy ending.

But I can promise you that I am going to try to get answers.

Because E wasn't just your friend.

He was family to us, too.

And I don't want his name to become another name that people eventually stop saying.

Where Is E?

Edmond Isiah Webster disappeared on May 12, 2008.

His vehicle was found the following day.

Eighteen years later, his disappearance remains unresolved.

I don't know whether he is alive or dead. I don't know whether someone harmed him. And I don't know whether the truth is sitting in an old investigative file, in someone's memory, or somewhere nobody has thought to look.

What I do know is that Edmond existed beyond the details of his missing-person report.

He laughed. He lived. He had people who loved him.

He had a best friend named Pinton.

And he had a little sister figure who grew up seeing those two together so often that she never imagined one day she'd be writing an article asking the world where he went.

E, wherever you are, you have not been forgotten.

Not by my brother.

Not by your family.

And not by me.

Almost twenty years later, we're still asking the same question.

Where the hell is E?

---

Note from the Author

There is a little bit of truth in every story I post. This one is especially personal.

Edmond Isiah Webster was my brother's best friend, and I knew him growing up in Kansas City, Missouri. The memories and family experiences shared here are my own. Details about his disappearance are based on publicly available missing-person information. Questions raised about the investigation are not allegations of wrongdoing or conclusions about what happened to him.

If you have credible information about Edmond's disappearance, please contact the Kansas City Police Department's Homicide/Missing Persons Unit.

Edmond Isiah Webster. Missing since May 12, 2008. Kansas City, Missouri.

His name matters. His life matters. And his family deserves answers.