The

Bees Alright, so I'm making this video because...

If anybody finds this, this, I really don't

know I'm trying to say and just I'm breathtaking at what I've done. Nestled in the heart of central Virginia,

Farmville has been a quiet centre of trade and education since its founding in 1798.

This small town, which is situated between Richmond and Lynchburg, carries the weight of American history in its streets, from Civil War battles to the birthplace of the modern civil rights movement.

First Avenue cuts through one of Farmville's most established residential neighbourhoods. A street where mature oak trees tore over modest colonial homes and well-kept Cape Codds.

The houses along here tell stories of generations, families who've watched their children grow up,

playing in yards bordered by white picket fences. It is the epitome of small town America,

where front porches still serve their intended purpose

and neighbours wave as they pass by.

The white colonial at the end of the block fit perfectly.

With its traditional clapboard siding and rust red shutters framing each window,

it really could have been lifted from a postcard.

The mature tree surrounding the property provided natural privacy.

Multiple editions over the years had given the house character,

each section telling the story of a family that had grown and adapted within its walls.

But one September afternoon in 2009, it became apparent that something was wrong.

A woman had been trying to reach her daughter who had been staying over at the house.

She eventually called police and asked them to do a welfare check.

I don't know who I'm for, who I need to talk to.

My daughter is a family in Farmville, Virginia, and he's been basically missing for the past two and a half days.

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