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Justice for Addison Rose, Justice for Addi, Montfort, WI (2026)

10/23/2026

An alleged relative of HLs told Detective Vesperman that HL called her the day after Addison died. In that call, HL allegedly told her that he and ACJ had to hide stuff in his truck so they wouldn't get charged with anything.

This is noted is in the official case file… not something secondhand from secondhand. A statement made directly to a detective, about a direct phone call from HL himself.

This Snapchat conversation… a conversation about hiding evidence… it ended up deleted. By the time investigators got to it, there was nothing left to pull except her memory of what he'd said.

We also want to note something that makes her account matter even more to us. This same person, who is reportedly related to HL- was one of the last people Addison talked to before she ever got into his truck that night. That proximity, being one of the final voices Addi Rose heard before everything changed is part of why what she told investigators carries so much weight for us.

We don't know if the deletion was intentional on her part, HL’s part, or just the normal churn of a teenager's Snapchat. We're not accusing anyone of destroying evidence on purpose. We're only saying that this is the pattern we keep running into, over and over, in this case. Something important gets said. And then, by the time anyone goes looking for proof of it, it's gone.

This isn't the only time that's happened.
HL refused to let investigators fully search his truck: the same truck Addison's belongings sat in overnight, the same truck he told a relative they'd used to hide things in. When detectives looked toward a part of that truck he didn't want them looking at, he and his attorney ended the search immediately.

Addi’s own phone goes silent at 10:35 that night, and two messages sent to her afterward are never opened.

A family attorney gets called before investigators have asked a single question.
Audio exists of someone in that house telling ACJ not to talk to police, and telling police not to talk to ACJ.

Piece by piece, this case is full of moments where something true almost surfaces: a phone call, a message, a conversation… and then, just as quickly, it's gone. Deleted. Forgotten. Walked back. We have spent over a year collecting the edges of a story that keeps disappearing the moment we try to hold onto it.

We think about that relative who came forward on October 10th a lot. She didn't have to say anything. She could have stayed quiet, the way so many people connected to this case have chosen to stay quiet. Instead, nine days after we lost Addi Rose, she told a detective the truth about a phone call that scared her enough to remember it, even if she couldn't remember exactly when it happened or where the proof of it had gone.

We need more people to be like this.

If you have ever gotten a call, a text, a Snapchat, a conversation… anything where someone connected to this case said something that didn't sit right with you, something about hiding things, something about getting their story straight, something about Addison that felt like more than just gossip: please, we are begging you, come forward. Even if you deleted it. Even if you can't remember the exact time. Even if it feels like it's too late or too small or too uncertain to matter.

It mattered enough for HL to call someone the very next day. It mattered enough that it's still sitting in an official case file over a year later. It can matter enough for you to say it out loud too.

We have spent over a year chasing pieces of a story that people keep trying to make disappear. We are not going to stop chasing them. But we cannot do this without the people who are still holding onto something.
Please. If you know anything, anything at all… reach out. You don't have to remember every detail. You just have to be willing to say what you know, to someone who can finally do something with it.

Addison Rose deserves better than a year of things disappearing the moment they get close to the truth.

We love you, Addi. We are never going to stop looking for the pieces that keep disappearing. We are never going to stop asking someone, anyone, to finally let them stay.

ANONYMOUS TIP LINE: https://gforms.app/p/jWatWsA

10/22/2026

The fi***rm found beside Addison Rose that night was traced through an ATF investigation. The trace followed its ownership back through multiple sales… originally purchased in Virginia, transferred through a licensed dealer here in Wisconsin, sold privately more than once, until it finally landed in ACJ's hands sometime in late 2024 or early 2025. He got it through a private sale arranged over Snapchat for a few hundred dollars.

That gun had been sitting in that house for months before October 1st. Not days, not weeks… months.

And it wasn't the only one…

Months before Addi Rose died, a search warrant was executed at that same residence. Investigators found a different semi-automatic pistol hidden under a pillow in ACJs bedroom- in the very room where Addi would later be found.

Here is where it gets harder to understand:

In the case file, CJ told investigators that ACJ had recently acquired the gun because he'd been robbed three days before Addison died. ACJ later told detectives a very similar story.

But… the ATF trace tells a completely different timeline. The federal record of that gun's ownership shows it had been in ACJs possession for months, not days. Long before any robbery CJ described. Long before "three days prior" could possibly be true.

We sit with that discrepancy and we don't know what to do with it except point it out and ask the obvious question. If the explanation they gave for why ACJ had that gun doesn't match the federal paper trail of when he actually got it, what else about the entire story isn't true? We don't have an answer. We just know that the math doesn't math, and it hasn't for over a year now.

We need the public to understand something about Addi Rose:

She did not know how to use a gun. She had never fired one. She had never been taught how to load one, how to hold one, how to do anything with one at all. Guns scared. By every account from the people who knew her best, she had never taken a hunter safety course, never expressed any interest in learning, never once been someone who felt comfortable around fi***rms.

She was 17. She loved makeup, and her animals, and sitting under the willow tree in our front yard until it got dark. She was not a girl who understood how a semi-automatic handgun worked, who could load one, who could rack a slide, who could do anything with one except be afraid of it.

And yet… she ended up in a room with one. A gun that belonged to someone else. A gun whose origin story, according to the people in that house, doesn't even match the federal record of when it actually arrived there. A gun sitting in a house that had already, at least once before, hidden a different fi***rm under a pillow.

How does a girl who has never touched a gun, who is afraid of them, who has no idea how to load or fire one- end up dead from a gunshot wound in a bedroom that already had a documented history of concealed fi***rms?

We are not asking that question to accuse anyone of something we can't prove. We are asking it because it is the question that keeps us up at night, over and over, the same way it probably keeps you up reading this. A house where guns kept appearing. A man who had owned this one for months, despite a story that says otherwise. A girl who had never touched a weapon in her entire life.

Somewhere in that combination is the truth about what happened to Addison, and we have spent over a year begging for someone to finally tell us what it is.

We are asking anyone who knows anything about that gun and about what happened in that room that night to PLEASE come forward.

If you know the real story behind that gun, if you've heard anything, anything at all, even something that feels too small or too uncertain to matter: please, say it out loud.

Addison Rose did not know how to use a gun. She should never have been anywhere near one. And yet that is how she died, in a house that had already shown investigators once before that it was a place where fi***rms were not handled responsibly.

She deserved so much better than that room, that night, that gun, and that story.

Please. If you know something, tell someone.

We love you, Addi Rose. We are never going to stop asking. We are never going to stop begging for someone to finally tell us the truth.

ANONYMOUS TIP LINE: https://gforms.app/p/jWatWsA

10/21/2026

According to the official case file, two detectives arrived at the Montfort residence at 8:11am on October 1st, 2025. Around this same time, a red vehicle pulled up in front of the residence. JJ (ACJ’s aunt) got out, along with a young male (JJ’s son). Detectives spoke with them. JJ explained that she lives in the house and wanted to get some things…. she was told that wasn't possible as the scene was locked down. She got back in the car, and then left.

Following this incident, investigators asked LJ who stays downstairs in the basement. LJ said it was JJ’s three sons: J, C, and BA

LJ explained that JJ and her sons had spent the night in Platteville, at the home of her other son, BI. She said the reason they were stopping by that morning was to change clothes before work and school and to grab medication.

Detectives then checked a backpack belonging to JJ and her sons. It contained medication said medication. This was photographed and released back to LJ.

That is what's in the record. A woman who lives in that house, showing up the next morning with her three sons, turned away at the door, with an explanation relayed secondhand through LJ about where they'd all been the night before.

Here's what sits heavy with us:

JJ lives in that house. Her sons stay in the basement. And yet, by her own account and by LJs account, none of them were there the single night it would have mattered most. They left their clothes and medication.

We're not investigators. We can't prove what we can't prove. But if what’s been privately described is accurate… there are two versions of that night. One that was given formally to law enforcement, placing her somewhere else entirely. And one that several people believe is much closer to the truth.

We don't think both versions can be right.

And so, we are left thinking. We have a house with that many people connected to it (three men in the basement, an aunt who lives there, a grandmother, a father, ACJ himself) and somehow, in the official account… almost everyone who could have seen or heard something simply wasn't present. Everyone was somewhere else. Everyone has an explanation.

And Addison Rose is still gone, and we still don't have the truth.

We try not to let ourselves imagine too much, because there's a version of imagining that becomes its own kind of torture, and we live close enough to that edge already. But some nights we can't help it. We think about Addi, alone in that room, and we think about everyone who might have been near her, might have heard something, might have seen something, might have walked through that house in those hours- and we think about how many of them have simply said I wasn't there.

We don't know what JJ saw, or didn't see, that night. We don't know if she was there and is afraid to say so, or if everything we've been told is wrong and the official account is the full truth. We only know that the distance between what's documented and what's been described to us is wide enough, and serious enough, that it cannot just sit there unanswered for another year.

JJ, if you are reading this: we are not trying to corner you, and we are not asking you to say anything publicly, here or anywhere else. We are asking you, quietly and sincerely, to go to investigators and tell them the truth.

Whatever it is, however it looks, however afraid you might be of what it means for you or for people you love.

You are part of that family. You lived in that house. Whatever you know, however small or however enormous it actually is, we are asking you to let it out.

If any part of what we've heard is true, we don't think you've had a single peaceful night since. We don't think you will, until this is finally out of you.

Addison deserved for everyone in that house to tell the truth about that night.

Please, JJ. It's been over a year. Help Addi. help us. Help your family. Help yourself too.

ANONYMOUS TIP LINE: https://gforms.app/p/jWatWsA

10/20/2026

We are going to talk about AP today- ACJ’s ex-girlfriend.

We’ve touched on her before, in pieces and across different posts. But today, we want to bring everything together, because we believe the full picture matters. And because… after everything that has happened, we believe it’s time for her to come forward with whatever information she may have.

Because Addison Rose deserves answers. And our family deserves the truth.

In her statement to investigators, AP maintained that she was not at 301 West Main Street on September 30th.

However, more than one person has come forward describing someone matching her description at that location that day.

According to these separate accounts, the person was in a vehicle different from the one AP is usually seen driving.

Different people and separate accounts. The same location. The same day… the day Addi Rose walked into that house.

We cannot say with absolute certainty that it was AP. We weren’t there, and we won’t pretend to know something we cannot prove.

But when multiple people independently describe seeing someone who matches the same person’s description at a location connected to a situation like this, and on a day that matters so deeply… we don’t believe those accounts should simply be dismissed.

They deserve to be examined. They deserve honest answers. And if there is an explanation, we believe it deserves to be heard.

In the weeks leading up to Addi’s death, AP had reportedly been harassing her. Addison spoke openly about what was happening. This wasn’t simply a vague tension between two people who didn’t get along. It was something that had been affecting Addison Rose in the weeks before she died.

And that matters…

Because when we look back at the days and weeks before someone dies, we can’t help but wonder what we missed, what we didn’t understand, and what might have mattered more than we realized at the time.

We think about that whenever AP’s name comes up.

Then there is what happened after Addison died: AP texted with Addi’s younger sister and asked if they could meet. She said she wanted to talk about what had happened. She said that she knew more than anyone else would…

We have never stopped wondering what she meant by that.

What did she want to say? What did she want our family to understand?

We don’t know what AP intended to discuss, and we won’t pretend that we do. But that conversation has stayed with us because it felt like a door opening for a moment. A chance for something to be said, something to be explained, perhaps something that could have helped our grieving family understand what happened.

And then that moment passed. As far as our family knows, AP never reached out to law enforcement with this supposed information.

There is another concern we feel we need to address:

On more than one occasion, separate people from the community have come forward and told us that they believe AP knows more than she has shared. These are not claims we can independently verify, and we have not personally heard the alleged statements ourselves. But we have been told that AP may have information about that night, or about ACJ, that she has been reluctant to repeat because of how disturbing it supposedly is.

We don’t know exactly what that means. We don’t know whether the accounts are accurate, and we will not fill in the blanks with assumptions.

But if AP does have information that could help investigators understand what happened to Addison, we hope she will consider sharing it with them.

Silence can mean many things. Fear. Grief. Confusion. Uncertainty. We know that not every person who stays quiet is hiding something, and we would never claim otherwise…

But if there is something important that has not yet been said, then we hope the fear of saying it will not outweigh the need for answers.

There is also an apparent discrepancy between what AP reportedly told investigators about ACJ and what she reportedly told Addison’s sister in text messages about his behavior.

Those accounts deserve to be considered carefully and in context. We cannot know from the outside why they appear different, or which account most accurately reflects what AP knew and believed at the time, but the difference matters.

If AP shared one understanding of ACJ with investigators and a different one in private messages with someone who knew him, we believe it is reasonable to ask why. What did she know? What did she witness? What was she trying to communicate?

Those are questions that deserve clear answers, not speculation.

And finally… we have heard from people who know AP and see her regularly that she has seemed different lately- more distraught, more troubled, as though she may be carrying something difficult.

We cannot know what she is feeling, and we will not presume to interpret her emotions as evidence of anything. There could be many reasons someone might struggle, especially when connected to a tragedy that has affected so many people.

But we do hope that, whatever she may be going through, she understands that she does not have to carry any information about Addison’s death alone.

If she knows something, there are people who can listen. There are investigators who can ask the right questions. There is a way to come forward without having to face every fear or uncertainty by herself.

AP, if you are reading this, please hear us.

We are not asking you to respond to rumors. We are not asking you to defend yourself in the court of public opinion. And we are not claiming to know what happened that night or what you may know about it.

We are asking you to think about Addison Rose.

You knew her. Whatever history existed between you, whatever disagreements or hurt feelings may have come before, Addi was still a person. She was still just 17 years old. She was someone's daughter. Someone's sister. Someone whose life should have had so much more left in it.

She had a future that should have been hers to live…

And now, the people who love her are left trying to make sense of a loss that can never truly be made right. They are left with questions that follow them into every quiet moment, with memories that hurt in ways other people may never fully understand, and with the unbearable reality that they cannot bring her home.

Nothing anyone says can give Addison her life back. Nothing can undo what happened.
But the truth still matters. Answers still matter. And information that could help investigators understand the circumstances surrounding her death still matters.

If you know something, anything, that could help, please consider sharing it with investigators. You do not have to share it with us. You do not have to explain yourself to the internet. You can take whatever information you have to the people whose responsibility it is to investigate what happened.

And if you reached out to Addison’s sister because there was something you wanted to say, please understand that the opportunity to speak has not necessarily passed.

You once expressed a desire to talk about what happened. If there is still something you need to say, something you know, or something you believe could help bring clarity to this case, we hope you will take that step.
Not because strangers are demanding answers from you… but because our family is still living with the loss of a girl we love more than words can ever explain.

Because Addison cannot speak for herself.

Because we cannot go back and ask her the questions we wish we had asked.

And because, whatever the truth may be, Addison deserves to have her story understood as fully and honestly as possible.

AP, we hope you choose to speak to investigators if you have information that could help. We hope whatever has kept you from speaking does not keep you silent forever.

There is still an opportunity to do something that matters.

Please don't let it pass.

For Addison. For the family who misses her every single day. For the answers that are still needed.

She deserves the truth. And the people who love her deserve the chance to find it.

ANONYMOUS TIP LINE: https://gforms.app/p/jWatWsA

10/14/2026

We have spent months sharing pieces of this case as carefully and as responsibly as we know how.

Today, we are sharing audio of LJ telling police not to speak to ACJ. Telling ACJ himself to not speak to police as he walked out the front door… Our family has listened to this more times than we can count. We still don't know how to fully put into words what it does to us every single time.

A 17 year old girl had just died. Our Addison Rose... And in those first raw minutes of ACJ waking up… before detectives had a chance to ask him a single question? Some of the first words spoken were “Do not talk to the police.”

We have watched this footage more times than we can count. We still don't fully know what to do with it. We just know it's there, and it's real, and it happened within the same hours our world ended.

We think about silence a lot. About how much weight it can hold, and how long it can be carried before it finally breaks something open.

We know silence can come from a lot of places. Fear. Instinct. Love, even- twisted into a shape that doesn't actually protect anyone.
We don't know which one this was, we’re not going to pretend we do. But we do know this… silence doesn't heal anything. It doesn't bring anyone back. It just sits there, year after year, getting heavier for everyone who's carrying it, whether they admit that weight or not.

We have carried our own kind of silence for over a year now. Not by choice. We have carried the silence of not knowing. Of asking the same questions into what has so often felt like an empty room. Of watching a calendar turn from October to November to December and into another October, still without the one thing we need most: the truth about what happened to the center of our world… the truth about what happened to Addison Rose.

To anyone who was in that house that night, or who has talked to someone who was: we are asking you, gently, honestly, from the most exhausted and most hopeful place we have left in us: please, help us carry this.

To anyone who has ever been told not to talk about this, or about anything: we understand how hard it is to go against that. We understand fear. We understand loyalty, even when loyalty gets pointed in the wrong direction. We are not asking you to betray anyone. We are asking you to consider that the truth, even now, even over a year later, is still the only thing that actually helps anyone heal. Including the people who are scared to tell it.

And to the public, reading this: if you have heard anything, seen anything, been told anything, even something that felt too small or too uncertain to mention… please say it out loud. To investigators, to us, to anyone who can do something with it. We have learned this year that the smallest detail can be the one that finally makes everything else make sense.

It has been over a year. Three hundred and some days of asking the same question and getting nothing back. Our family still doesn't know what happened to Addi Rose in the last hours of her life. And we believe somewhere someone does.

Addison deserved so much more than a year of silence. She deserved people who loved her to have the truth about how she left this world. She deserved for someone, somewhere, to finally say what happened.

Please. If you know anything. If you've heard anything. If some part of you has been carrying something this whole time — let it go. Let it finally be known.

And to LJ: Tell him to tell the truth. Whatever it is. We don't know what happened in that room any more than anyone else does, and maybe you don't either. But ACJ does. And every year that passes with him saying nothing is another year our family doesn't get to bury this the way we should have been able to a long time ago.

You called a lawyer before anyone asked you a single question. You told him not to talk… We are only asking you to consider whether that was really love… or whether it was fear wearing love's clothes.

It's been over a year. Tell him it's time.
She has waited long enough. We all have.

For Addison. Always.
ANONYMOUS TIP LINE: https://gforms.app/p/jWatWsA

10/08/2026

Someone knows something.

We believe that with our whole hearts… with every fiber of our soul.

Somewhere out there… in Montfort, in Edmund, in Cobb, in Mineral Point, in Platteville, in a town two hours away, in a conversation that happened once and was never brought up again…

somebody has a piece of this story that we don't have. A sentence somebody said when they'd had a little too much to drink. A text they were shown and told not to repeat. A detail that felt too small to matter, or too big to say out loud.

We are asking that person, whoever and wherever you are, to be brave.

We know what we're asking. We know coming forward is not simple. Maybe you're scared of what it means for a friendship. Maybe you're scared of getting pulled into something bigger than you ever wanted to be part of. Maybe you've convinced yourself that what you know probably doesn't matter, that surely someone else has already said it, that it's not your place…

We are asking you to set all of that aside, just for a moment, and think about Addi Rose instead.

She was 17 years old. She had a whole life in front of her- a future, plans, goals, and dreams… and all of it ended in a room in Montfort with no explanation that has ever made sense.

A year has passed. More than a year now.

And the people who were there that night have mostly stayed silent, protecting something- themselves, each other, we don't fully know.

But you don't owe them that same silence. You never did.

Maybe you heard something secondhand. Maybe you were told not to repeat it. Maybe you've carried it this whole time, turning it over, wondering if it's important, wondering if it's your place to say anything at all.

It IS your place. It has always been your place. Anyone who knows anything has a place in this.

You don't have to have the whole story. You don't have to be certain. You don't even have to know what it means or how it fits.

Investigators have told us directly: they will chase every single lead, no matter how small.

But a lead needs someone willing to say it out loud. That is the only thing standing between where this case is right now and where it could be.

Maybe it's something about that night specifically. Maybe it's something someone said weeks or months later, when they thought no one was paying attention, when their guard was down and the truth slipped out for just a second before it got swallowed back up.

We have had people come forward before, but we believe there is more. We believe there are people still sitting on something, still telling themselves it's not enough, still afraid of what speaking up might cost them.

We are asking you to stop weighing that cost against Addison's life. There is no fair trade there. There never was.

You do not have to come to us. You do not have to be public. You do not have to put your name on anything if you don't want to.
You only have to tell someone who can do something with it.

We think about the version of this where someone finally does come forward. Where a phone rings, and on the other end is the detail that finally makes everything else make sense. We have thought about that moment every day for over a year.

We don't know who you are. We don't know what you know. We just know, somewhere out there, you exist… and we are asking you, as plainly and as honestly as we know how, to be brave enough to finally say it.

Addison deserves that bravery from somebody. It might as well be you.

ANONYMOUS TIP LINE: https://gforms.app/p/jWatWsA

10/02/2026

Today is October 1st, 2026.

A year ago, we still had her with us.

A year ago, Addi Rose hugged her mom goodbye in a kitchen full of dirty dishes, said "bye, I love you, see you later" the way she always did, and walked out the door into a night none of us knew to be afraid of.

See you later…Not goodbye. See you later.

Because there was no reason on earth to think there wouldn't be a later.

We have lived inside that sentence for 365 days now. "See you later." We turn it over and over, the way you run your tongue over a broken tooth, unable to stop even though it hurts every single time.

There wasn't a later. There was only this. A year of her name on signs instead of on a graduation cap. A year of memorial candles instead of birthdays. A year of a case file instead of a future. A year of us fighting for answers that still, even now and even today, we do not have.

We don't know how to describe what a year of this feels like to someone who hasn't lived it. It is not a slow healing. It is not a wound that closes a little more each month, the way people promise you it will. It is a door that reopens every single morning, the exact same way, with the exact same force, as if no time has passed at all. We wake up. For one unbearable half-second, the world is normal.

And then we remember, all over again, that she's gone, and we lose her all over again, in that same half-second, every single day.

We miss her in every size there is. We miss the big things: her laugh filling up a whole room, her stubbornness, the way she loved people so hard in the best way. And we miss the impossibly small things too: the specific way she said certain words, the willow tree in the front yard, a shade of pink that stops us in the middle of an ordinary day for no reason anyone else would understand.

We have spent this entire year becoming people we never wanted to be. People who know what "manner of death" means. People who have read autopsy reports and understand chain of custody and know a detective's direct line by heart. We did not choose this version of ourselves. It was chosen for us, the night somebody decided silence was easier than the truth. And so we became this instead: loud, relentless, impossible to ignore… because the only thing worse than carrying this pain would have been carrying it quietly.

It has cost us things this year that we are still grieving separately from grieving her.

Friendships. A version of our family that used to be whole in a different way. Pieces of ourselves we didn't know we'd have to give up just to keep standing. We don't say that for sympathy. We say it because we think it matters for people to know what the last 365 days actually took, underneath all the posts and the timelines and the fight everyone sees from the outside.

And still… we would do every single day of it again. We would do all of it twice over, a hundred times over, if it meant one more day of fighting for her.

Addi: we don't know if you can hear us, but we're going to talk to you anyway, the way we have every single day this year.

We are so sorry. We are sorry we didn't know that goodbye was the last one. We are sorry we were sleeping and unaware while everything was happening to you. We are sorry it has taken a full year and we are still standing here without the whole truth. We are sorry for every birthday you won't have, every ordinary Tuesday that should have just belonged to you, every single thing this last year stole from you that you will never get back.

But we are not sorry for one single thing we have done since. Not the sleepless nights. Not the arguments this fight has cost us. Not the version of ourselves we had to become to keep fighting for you. We would choose this every time, because you are worth every piece of it, and you always will be.

You were loud. You were sassy. You loved with your whole chest and you never apologized for it. You deserved so much more than seventeen years, and you deserved so much more than the way they ended, and we are never going to stop saying that, not this year, not next year, not for the rest of our lives.

One year, Addi Rose. It feels like no time at all and it feels like forever all at once and we don't think that feeling ever goes away.

We love you. We miss you in every single hour of every single day. We are still here. We are still asking. We are still fighting exactly as hard as we were on day one.

See you later. We still believe that. We have to.

Justice for Addison Rose

10/23/2026

10/22/2026

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