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Dateline: Missing in America podcast covers the May 2024 disappearance of Roy Whited from Sparta, Tennessee
Play the episode 'Mystery on Lovejoy Road' of the Dateline: Missing in America podcast below and click here to follow.
Tucked into the rolling hills and valleys of middle Tennessee is Sparta, a rural community where neighbors aren't strangers and many who live here see each other every week at church. For almost a decade at the DeRossett Church of Christ, gospel music and the sermons of Pastor Roy Whited made the Sunday morning service soar.
Doug Watts: 'He was a good preacher, you know. He had the way with the word.'
Doug Watts says Roy is the reason he started going to church again, more than 20 years after he'd quit.
Doug Watts: 'I told him he did it. And he said, 'No, God done it.' I said, 'He did it through you,' you know? And I—I believe that.'
In the first week of May 2024, something happened in Sparta that seemed almost impossible to believe.
That's when 64-year-old Roy Whited vanished.
Doug Watts: 'Yes, sir. Just unbelievable.'
For White County Sheriff Steve Page... Roy's case is personal.
Sheriff Steve Page: 'Me and Roy are friends.'
The sheriff is as baffled as anyone else, wondering how anyone as recognizable as Roy could disappear in plain sight.
Sheriff Steve Page: 'I would dare to say 95 percent of the people in this county knew Roy Whited — or maybe even a hundred percent.'
It is a mystery that has forced Roy's closest friends and family into the fellowship of the missing. It's a group no one chooses to join. Certainly not Roy's brother, Lynn Whited.
Lynn Whited: 'I pray — I pray — I pray that he is somewhere and we will find him. Because otherwise I — I have to think the worst.'
I'm Josh Mankiewicz, and this is Missing in America, a podcast from Dateline.
This episode is 'Mystery on Lovejoy Road.'
Please listen closely because you or someone you know may have information that could help Roy's family and friends find the answers they're still looking for.
Lynn Whited says his big brother Roy was a local hero long before he took to preaching.
Lynn Whited: 'He was a teacher and, uh, got into coaching basketball and, uh, did really well at coaching basketball. They won the state championship two years running.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'Which is a pretty big deal in Tennessee.'
Lynn Whited: 'It's a huge deal in Tennessee.'
Tennessee's governor back then agreed. He signed a bill in 1999 congratulating the champion White County Warriors and name-checking Coach Roy Whited.
Coaching and teaching kept Roy busy, but apparently not busy enough. Barb Witzigman remembers the day he showed up at her real estate office, which also handles estate auctions.
Barbara Witzigman: 'I was sitting behind my desk, and this skinny little guy popped up and said, 'Hi, I'm Roy Whited, and I want to apprentice under your auctioneer.''
Josh Mankiewicz: 'Why did he want to be an auctioneer?'
Barbara Witzigman: 'Because Roy was loud. He didn't even need a microphone. You could hear him all over. He loved people. People loved him. And he loved antiques.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'Was he one of those auctioneers that speaks at a hundred words a minute?'
Barbara Witzigman: 'Yup, yup, easy. Everybody loved to listen to him.'
That's Roy taking bids at one of their auctions.
Josh Mankiewicz: 'So he came on as an apprentice. It sounds like he worked out.'
Barbara Witzigman: 'Oh, definitely. He was like a son to me, and he called me his second mom.'
Roy eventually secured his realtor's license, retired from teaching, and bought a stake in Barb's business. The apprentice was now a partner, but his brother says it wasn't long before Roy got the call to use his powerful voice in a different way. Middle-aged — and married with two young sons — Roy went back to the classroom, this time as a student.
Lynn Whited: 'He went to night school and online classes and got his divinity degree and started preaching.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'Kind of a transition for him, wasn't it? Did anybody say to him, 'Why do you want to start preaching now?''
Lynn Whited: 'Not really. He fell right into the role. He was very biblically based. It was a natural transition as far as I was concerned.'
'Roy became a pastor at DeRossett Church of Christ—preaching on weekends, selling real estate during the week, and in between, making time for congregants who needed a sympathetic ear and some guidance.'
Barbara Witzigman: 'People would stop in daily that went to his church to talk to him. He was just that — that type of guy.'
Barb says Roy counseled a lot of people in the community and always made time for anyone who needed his help.
Then, in 2021, it was Roy who needed to lean on others when his marriage of more than 30 years ended. Roy's sons were 17 and 22 at the time.
Lynn Whited: 'It was painful for Roy. Uh, it hurt the children – the two boys.'
Barbara Witzigman: 'It was a very bitter divorce. I went through a lot with him.'
Doug Watts was also there for Roy during that rough time.
Doug Watts: 'He needed a place to stay. And I said, 'Well, I'm thinking about buying this place next door.' He said, 'Well, if you buy it, I wanna rent it.' So I bought it, and he rented it. And, uh, he was my next-door neighbor and a best friend, too.'
Roy's rental on Lovejoy Road was convenient—just a couple of miles from his church. Doug is a song leader there, and on Sundays, they'd both get there early—before Bible study and before the 10 a.m. service. It gave them time to talk.
Except on Sunday, May 5th, 2024. When Doug walked through the church door around 8:30 a.m., Roy was not there. Then his phone rang. It was Doug's sister-in-law, who lives across the street from Roy.
Doug Watts: 'She said, 'I think something's wrong at Roy's 'cause, uh, he's — his truck hadn't been moved all weekend.' She said, 'I've called him, and I went over and knocked on the door and beat on the bedroom window. He just won't come out.''
Doug did not hesitate. He drove straight over to Roy's place. Just as his sister-in-law had said, Roy's truck was parked in the driveway. The door to the house was locked.
Doug Watts: 'I had a key. And as I was going in, I just called his phone and it — you could hear it ringing in the house. And, of course, we hollered for him.'
There was no answer, and Doug got an awful feeling.
Doug Watts: 'And the first thing I thought, 'Oh, no. He's — he's dead in here.''
To his great relief, Roy was not lying dead inside the house. To his great concern, he was not there at all.
Doug Watts: 'His phone was sitting right beside his bed, you know, charging. Bed didn't look like it'd been slept in. It was made up.'
Doug did not see anything that alarmed him. In fact, nothing appeared to be out of place. Roy's sermon notes were on a table.
Doug Watts: 'House looked normal.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'The house looked normal except – no Roy.'
Doug Watts: 'Yeah, right. Exactly.'
When Doug took a closer look at Roy's truck, he saw nothing suspicious. It was unlocked, and the keys were in the cup holder. Doug says Roy routinely kept his house and truck keys there; otherwise, he was always losing them.
Even with no obvious signs of trouble, Doug was certain about one thing—and it was alarming. Roy would never miss a service he was scheduled to preach. So Doug called Roy's sons and then dialed 911.
Soon, Roy's truck would be seen in a completely different light by the county sheriff.
Sheriff Steve Page: 'We don't know that Roy drove the truck home. Somebody did. We don't know that that was Roy.'
On May 5th, 2024, when White County Sheriff Steve Page arrived at Roy Whited's house on Lovejoy Road, he saw no sign of a struggle anywhere.
Sheriff Steve Page: 'In the house, in the driveway – 'cause we looked for all that – in the yard. Roy either never was there or Roy went willingly.'
One thing was crystal clear: the 64-year-old pastor should have been at church leading the morning service, and he was not. His truck was parked in the driveway, and his wallet was gone, so it was possible Roy went for a walk and ran into trouble. Roy did have high blood pressure, so a stroke or heart attack was not out of the question.
The sheriff issued a Silver Alert — for a senior in danger – and deputies began searching a 3,300-acre hunting property behind Roy's house. State police and other agencies assisted with a helicopter and search dogs.
Sheriff Steve Page: 'We went all over that land that day, looking and looking and looking. And with no avail, we didn't find anything.'
NBC Affiliate WSMV: 'Today, a community search party for the former White County High School basketball coach Roy Whited...'
Around 200 people turned out to help with a second search of that hunting property. They covered the rugged terrain on horseback, on four-wheelers, and on foot and with drones, but found no trace of Roy. Sheriff Page says trail cameras throughout the property also did not pick up any sign of him.
Sheriff Steve Page: 'So therefore, at that point, we didn't believe he's back there.'
The search shifted to shoe-leather detective work. Roy lived alone, and it was not clear how long he'd been missing. Investigators talked with his neighbors, his co-workers, and his relatives, and bit by bit, they formed a timeline.
On Friday morning, May 3rd, Roy went to work as usual at Tri-Star Real Estate. He left the office around 2:00 p.m. to appraise a property about fifteen miles away. Sheriff Page's deputies spoke with the couple he met there.
Sheriff Steve Page: 'And according to what they've told us, you know, Roy appeared fine. He got in his truck and left from the property.'
At about 3:45 p.m., Roy's truck turned into his driveway. A neighbor's security camera recorded it. The quality of the video is not good enough to tell who's driving.
Josh Mankiewicz: 'You can see that's Roy's truck — but you can't see if that's Roy in it.'
Sheriff Steve Page: 'That's correct, so you can't say it was Roy.'
It seemed a big clue, but was it? After making the turn, Roy's truck continued up his long driveway, out of the camera's view. Whoever got out of the truck can't be seen.
Josh Mankiewicz: 'Any evidence either way that the truck left his driveway after that camera sees it being parked there?'
Sheriff Steve Page: 'None.'
Sheriff Page says his deputies talked with every resident on Lovejoy Road. One neighbor claimed he saw Roy walking near his house that Friday afternoon, though it's not clear when that possible sighting was.
Sheriff Steve Page: 'There's some variances in the times that he said he'd seen him.'
After that, Roy's timeline seemed to stop. No one reported seeing or hearing from him on Saturday, May 4th. Barb Witzigman, Roy's close friend and business partner, says she called him multiple times on Saturday, and he did not answer.
Barbara Witzigman: 'But that wasn't unusual, 'cause if he was preparing his sermon, you know, he didn't answer the phone.'
Still, Roy did not respond to the messages she left, and Barb says that was unusual.
Barbara Witzigman: 'Because he always called me back.'
So maybe Roy was already missing on Saturday. Sheriff Page wondered – maybe he never came home at all?
Sheriff Steve Page: 'He may have stopped and talked to somebody, and something went bad there. Who knows? And then this person might have drove the truck home.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'And somebody drives his truck home sort of to cover their tracks.'
Sheriff Steve Page: 'Yeah.'
If you're a pastor, you are never really off the clock, especially in a town of fewer than five thousand souls, many of whom you know by name.
Barb Witzigman wonders if Roy's generous spirit might have something to do with his disappearance. What if, she imagined, someone showed up at Roy's house and they went somewhere together?
Josh Mankiewicz: 'The idea that he might say, 'Let's go for a drive and talk about whatever's bothering you,' that's not out of the question?'
Barbara Witzigman: 'No, because Roy never met a stranger.'
Could Roy's pickup, a red Chevy Silverado, be the key to solving his case?
Well, maybe it could have been, but the sheriff says, unfortunately, it could not be processed for prints or DNA.
Sheriff Steve Page: 'By the time law enforcement got to the house, there were already people in the house and people had already been in his truck, you know, looking for him, trying to figure out what happened.'
This is not unusual. People who discover that someone is missing are not necessarily thinking about preserving potential evidence. It might have been possible early on to dust the truck and exclude fingerprints or DNA from people who touched it that morning, but those tests can be expensive.
Sheriff Page said after Roy went missing, his younger son came and got the truck.
Investigators considered another possible explanation: could Roy have just wanted to disappear? Agents from the TBI, the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation, checked cameras and flight logs at nearby airports but found no evidence of Roy coming or going. They also analyzed Roy's electronics.
Sheriff Steve Page: 'No. We've done a thorough search of both, um, nothing.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'There's no text message saying, you know, 'Meet me at 3:00 in the morning'?'
Sheriff Steve Page: 'No. And we had that phone downloaded by the TBI.'
Soon, another clue surfaced, one that seemed to suggest Roy did make it home on May 3rd. Electricity records for Roy's house showed that at midnight on that Friday, his power usage dropped to a level consistent with just the refrigerator running.
Roy's brother Lynn says that tracks with Roy's normal routine.
Lynn Whited: 'That was Roy's habit. He would study and he would read. And about midnight, he would go to bed, and that's when he would turn all the lights off and everything.'
The clue really came the next morning when the power usage did not go back up. It stayed at that minimal level.
Lynn Whited: 'That's what just doesn't make any sense. If he got up that morning, he would at least, you know, he'd turn lights on, he'd make coffee, fixed his breakfast. The power would've went up from there.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'But it doesn't happen.'
Lynn Whited: 'It doesn't happen.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'Which would suggest something happened there overnight.'
Lynn Whited: 'Right.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'Except when you look at the house, there's no sign of anything.'
Lynn Whited: 'Nothing was out of place.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'His cell phone is sitting there charging.'
Lynn Whited: 'Correct. On his nightstand.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'His sermon is laid out.'
Lynn Whited: 'Yep. What would've gotten him out of the house at that hour, I don't know.'
Sheriff Page and Roy are friends, and fellow car buffs. Two weeks before Roy went missing, they caught up over dinner at the annual Rod Run, a car show in eastern Tennessee.
Sheriff Steve Page: 'He was normal Roy, you know, laughing, cutting up with me. And he — he looked tired like he always does. We had a good supper together and said our goodbyes.'
Now, Sheriff Page was replaying that day, looking for signs he might have missed. And he was hearing competing accounts from the people closest to Roy. Lynn Whited says the week before his brother went missing they talked almost every day. Roy was helping Lynn sell a piece of property he owns.
Lynn Whited: 'He was excited about what he could do for me and how he could help me. And nothing ever, to me, came out that he was, uh, depressed or that he was worried or anxious.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'And you've probably examined all of those conversations a bunch of times.'
Lynn Whited: 'Multiple times, yes.'
Lynn's description of Roy's state of mind was consistent with that of the sheriff, but others had a very different impression. Listen to Doug Watts, Roy's next-door neighbor and best friend. To him, Roy seemed stressed in the days before he went missing.
Doug Watts: 'He was worried about one of his sons. And he was tore up. I mean, he's not a bad boy. He just was worried about his future, you know.'
Doug says that, like many parents, Roy wanted to make sure his younger son was on track with his career. He was also concerned about a friend who was going through a divorce. Other peoples' problems weighed on Roy. For a pastor, it is an occupational hazard.
Doug Watts: 'I hate to use the word burned out, but I believe he was ready to — to maybe step back, you know.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'You think handling other people's problems had finally taken a toll.'
Doug Watts: 'That — that will, yes.'
There was something else to consider.
At the time of his disappearance, a rough patch in Roy's personal life was still pretty fresh. In a case like his, a bitter divorce naturally comes under scrutiny. And Roy's definitely qualified.
Lynn Whited: 'The divorce was very nasty. It was painful for Roy. It hurt the children – the two boys. They've pretty much sided with the mother.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'It was legally resolved, as far as you know?'
Lynn Whited: 'Yes. Yes.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'Maybe — maybe some feelings were left unresolved, but nobody out to hurt anybody as a result of that.'
Lynn Whited: 'Right. I — I — I would say yes.'
The divorce became final almost two years before Roy's disappearance. Barb saw, up close, the fallout from the split.
Josh Mankiewicz: 'That divorce left some people feeling bruised.'
Barbara Witzigman: 'Yes.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'Any chance that — that his disappearance is related to that, in your opinion?'
Barbara Witzigman: 'I don't think so. I — I — my gut says 'No', but who knows?'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'Was this infidelity or was this something —'
Barbara Witzigman: 'No. No, they —.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'Nothing like that?'
Barbara Witzigman: 'No, they just didn't get along.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'There's no love triangle here?'
Barbara Witzigman: 'No. No, nothing. No.'
For law enforcement and everyone who loved Roy, an obvious question was: 'Who would want to hurt him?' or 'Who might stand to benefit from his death?' Lynn told us Roy said he had a life insurance policy, but no one has been able to find it in Roy's house or his office.
And there was another crucial question: Where might this clue fit into the picture? It turns out, Roy's wallet wasn't the only thing missing from his house.
Sheriff Steve Page: 'There was a gun box under his bed that was empty.'
Sheriff Steve Page: 'Well, he was — Roy was known to carry a gun.'
In Sparta, Tennessee, Roy Whited was long known as the quintessential people person, someone who could and did talk to anyone — the gregarious guy who loved to tell stories when he wasn't listening to others tell theirs. Perhaps that's why Doug Watts has such vivid memories of a very dark chapter in Roy's life: his divorce.
Doug Watts: 'It was a disaster to him. He felt like, 'I didn't even wanna go to Walmart. I was just ashamed to go to town', you know. He felt that way.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'He felt ashamed.'
Doug Watts: 'He did. But, I mean, his wife wanted it. He didn't want it. And I don't know why. You don't know anybody till you live with them. I can't blame either one.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'Whatever the cause was, he was pretty hurt by that?'
Doug Watts: 'Yeah. Oh, yeah, definitely.'
At the time of his disappearance, Roy had been divorced for 21 months. Had his emotional wounds healed, or were they just one more stressor in his life? Had it all just become too much for Roy? Could suicide explain his disappearance? Sheriff Steve Page says when deputies searched Roy's house, a gun box under his bed was empty.
Josh Mankiewicz: 'Suggesting that he might have taken it with him?'
Sheriff Steve Page: 'Roy was known to carry a gun. Because, you know, he was — he was into real estate. And I'm sure there were times when he had quite a bit of money with him. Like a lot of people in this county, they carry guns.'
Sheriff Page says that gun has not been found, but he doesn't think Roy's case is a suicide.
Sheriff Steve Page: 'I don't believe the man killed himself. I just don't. I mean, he's, uh, he was a preacher, you know. Not to say preachers don't kill their selves sometimes or commit suicide — I'm sure they do — but, uh, I don't see Roy — as well as I knew him, and knew the kind of man he was — doing something like that to himself.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'And you would've found him.'
Sheriff Steve Page: 'I would've found him.'
The end of summer was approaching, and the man who once seemed to be everywhere in Sparta, Tennessee — selling houses, overseeing auctions, delivering sermons — was still nowhere to be found. Roy Whited had been missing for more than four months.
On September 17, 2024, around a hundred people gathered in the White County High School gym for an update on his case.
It was Roy's 65th birthday. Among the crowd were some of the basketball players he'd coached more than two decades earlier. Sheriff Steve Page was also there — and so was a private investigator. Roy's brother Lynn had hired him.
Josh Mankiewicz: 'Because you thought the sheriff wasn't working on it, or you just thought –?'
Lynn Whited: 'I felt we were getting nowhere. Every time I asked, every time I made a phone call, uh, 'We have nothing new,' and I just — I couldn't — I can't deal with that.'
I hear that a lot from the families of the missing, and I do understand where they're coming from.
I'm also familiar with a hard truth about this kind of case, as I told Lynn.
Josh Mankiewicz: 'One of the problems with all missing persons investigations is, you can get all the cameras in the area, and you can talk to everybody who knew the person, and you can check the camera at the bus station and the airport. And you can look at their passport and see whether they left the country — you know, credit card activity, and bank activity, and their phone, and things like that. But if all of that goes nowhere and nobody's seen the person, those investigations tend to slow down.'
Lynn Whited: 'Right. And that's exactly what's happened.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'The sheriff's a friend of Roy's.'
Lynn Whited: 'Yes.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'I mean, this certainly isn't any other — just any other case to him.'
Lynn Whited: 'I would hope not.'
This dynamic happens pretty often between families and law enforcement.
Sheriff Page says he gets that Lynn and others in the community may feel frustrated, but his priority is getting to the truth of what happened to Roy.
Sheriff Steve Page: 'Everybody wants me to tell everything, but I can't do that. I don't wanna jeopardize the case, you know? And they need to understand that it's me doing my job.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'In law enforcement, you see a lot of terrible things, uh,but that's different from looking for somebody who's a friend of yours, isn't it?'
Sheriff Steve Page: 'Absolutely. I've been looking every day since. We have a case file that's about a foot thick.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'What's your gut tell you? Is Roy still alive?'
Sheriff Steve Page: 'My heart hopes so, but my gut says, 'I don't know,' 'cause it's been too long. There's too many cameras in the world. There's a lot of people that's looking for him.'
The private investigator Lynn hired told us his investigation has convinced him Roy is not just a missing person — he is a homicide victim. The investigator says he's spoken with multiple people who had dealings with Roy, and believes there's a lot more to Roy's case than just one person going missing.
That is strictly his opinion, and so far, he admits he does not have the proof to back it up. However, he has heard some stories, including one Doug Watts is familiar with.
On Friday, May 3rd, the last day anyone reported seeing Roy, Doug got the sense Roy needed a friend to confide in, so he drove over to Tri-Star Real Estate.
Doug Watts: 'He had called me earlier, and he was kindly worked up over trying to help somebody, you know, and — and I decided just to go up to his office. So I went up there and talked to him a little.'
Doug says Roy was upset about a real estate transaction involving a family in the community. Roy thought it looked as if a signature might have been forged. In his capacity as a minister and friend, he was helping to sort out that dispute.
Doug Watts: 'He was trying to deal with it. I don't know to what extent.'
After talking with Roy for about a half hour, Doug left the office.
Doug Watts: 'I wasn't really worried too much about him because I've seen him get stressed before. He's one that tries to go at everything a hundred and fifty percent, you know?'
Roy's business partner, Barb Witzigman, was aware that Roy was troubled by that property dispute.
Barbara Witzigman: 'He was a little depressed — a little upset. He had talked about it all week.'
If Roy's suspicions were correct and someone had forged a signature — that would be a crime.
Roy might have felt it his duty to report that to police. Could someone involved in that real estate deal have wanted Roy to just mind his own business?
Barb says the real estate issue was resolved three months after Roy's disappearance, just as he had hoped.
We asked Sheriff Page if he had spoken to the people involved in that dispute. He declined to comment.
However, after a year of investigating the case, the sheriff does have an unofficial theory.
Sheriff Steve Page: 'I think somebody has probably — I mean, this is just speculation — picked him up and taken him somewhere. And who knows what happened from there?'
That scenario sounds a lot like the one Barb Witzigman described to me.
Barbara Witzigman: 'Since his truck was there, I figured maybe somebody pulled up that he knew and he got in the car with him. And from there it went south.'
Maybe someone didn't take kindly to the guidance Roy was known for giving. Or maybe someone carried a grudge about a business deal or something completely unrelated to any of the many hats Roy wore. At this point, it's all speculation.
The sheriff says he's found no evidence of foul play. However, he also told me this:
Sheriff Steve Page: 'There's a few suspects. Possible suspects — let me put it that way: possible suspects in the case.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'People who had an issue with Roy.'
Sheriff Steve Page: 'Well, I don't know that. I've heard it, but I don't know it. I have talked to a couple of those people. And according to them, they didn't really have an issue.'
He is careful not to name any names, but one thing he is sure about is that someone, somewhere, holds the key to the truth.
Sheriff Steve Page: 'I believe somebody knows something. They just haven't come forward yet."
In December 2024, seven months after Roy went missing, Roy's family and friends, with help from local churches, offered a $15,000 reward for information leading to his recovery.
Josh Mankiewicz: 'And it produced nothing.'
Sheriff Steve Page: 'Nothing.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'You'd think that would shake something loose if there were something to be shaken loose.'
Sheriff Steve Page: 'Right.'
Sheriff Page says he will not rest until he finds Roy.
Josh Mankiewicz: 'You're not gonna stop, are you? This was your friend.'
Sheriff Steve Page: 'No, sir. No, sir. I will not stop.'
Outside DeRossett Church of Christ, Roy Whited's smile beams from a yard sign, beseeching all who pass by to help find him. Several yards away, a portable basketball hoop stands at the edge of a driveway. Doug Watts says Roy bought it years ago for the local kids to use. There is a new pastor in the pulpit now, and Doug is grateful for that. Even so, there is a void.
Doug Watts: 'We all loved him. And, you know, it's just — it's just different, you know? It's just the emptiness. But, you know, we have to move on.'
He's learned that moving on is not a simple thing. Not knowing what happened to Roy — the next-door neighbor and friend Doug says he loved like a brother — still haunts him.
Doug Watts: 'I think about it every day, you know? He was close. Sometimes you don't sleep. You wake up in the middle of the night — it's the first thing you think about, 'Where is he?' You know, you try to go through different scenarios and nothing makes any sense. Nothing.'
Barb Witzigman is reminded of Roy's absence every time she walks into Tri-Star Real Estate.
Josh Mankiewicz: 'What's it been like to not have him around for a year?'
Barbara Witzigman: 'It's — it's been terrible. For a long time, we couldn't go back in his office.'
She shared a story that she said captures what made Roy so special. It's about what he did when Barb's father died. And it still makes her smile.
Barbara Witzigman: 'We're from Pennsylvania. And, uh, the day of the funeral, I was sitting in the chapel. And I heard this commotion out front. And, sure enough, Roy had flown in that morning to be with me. That's the kind of guy he was.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'He was a good friend.'
Barbara Witzigman: 'Yes, very. And I miss him.'
Lynn Whited has lost track of the number of times he's made the six-hour drive to Sparta from his home in Montgomery, Alabama. He comes a couple of times a month and plans to keep doing so until Roy's case is solved.
Lynn Whited: 'We've done, uh, billboards. We've done, uh, over a hundred yard signs throughout four or five counties. I went and bought a phone just for anybody that would want to give an anonymous tip.'
Josh Mankiewicz: 'It feels like you and your family have done everything you can.'
Lynn Whited: 'I don't feel that way because Roy's still not here.'
Here is how you can help…
Roy Whited is 5'11' and 175 pounds, with brown eyes and auburn hair that is graying.
He was 64 at the time of his disappearance in 2024, and he was wearing a beige shirt and either cowboy boots or tennis shoes.
If you have any information on Roy's whereabouts, please contact the White County Sheriff's Office at 931-836-2700.
On our website, you can see photos of Roy.
To learn more about other people we've covered in our Missing in America series, go to There you'll be able to submit cases you think we should cover in the future.
Thanks for listening. See you Fridays on Dateline on NBC.
