Josh Guimond: Roommate. Mock Trial co-captain. Tripartite Chancellor of the Illuminati. Brilliant student of the law. Fellow band geek. Shrewd politician. A young man with the brightest of futures. All of these, to me, describe Josh Guimond, one of the best friends for whom a person could ever ask. I will think of him in all of these capacities, and many more, until his return, which will be the greatest day of my life.

I met Josh my sophomore year at St. John’s, his first year at our beloved institution. After beginning to fulfill a dream of mine by starting a Mock Trial program on campus, Josh and I met at the first informational meeting I held about the activity. He quickly impressed me with his intelligence, humor, wit, work ethic and outstanding “mock” abilities. We became friends, spending much of our spare time (as if we really had any) together.

Josh’s capabilities impressed me so much, that I, despite being one who fears the delegation of any important task, made him a co-captain of the team for the next season. He ran, among many other aspects, the financial side of the Mock Trial program; I was again pleased with his efforts. The program flourished. Our team, which we ran together, finished second out of 20 teams in our regional tournament and in the top 20 out of 440 teams nationwide. Many of our opponents were well-established programs with strong institutional support. We, in contrast, had Josh. We won.

Our relationship in our second year as friends led quickly to a closer friendship, an indestructible bond. We would rant about the foibles of our mock competition, strategizing deep into the night even during what we considered leisure time. We would rave about the fallacies of many a liberal political argument. We argued over the relative merits of various Wind Ensemble pieces, perhaps the truest sign of nerdery. (Thankfully, after much rancor, he agreed with me that Festival Variations is truly an all-time great). We discussed our dreams: mine, to become an attorney, perhaps a US Attorney; his, to serve in the Legislature of the Great State of Minnesota. Rather than asking what drew us together as friends, people were more likely to wonder if we were in any way different.

This year, our close friendship continued with a bit of a twist: we were now roommates. Our living situation, predictably enough, only drew us closer together. We now did nearly everything, it seemed, together. The hours we spent theorizing in the mock sense skyrocketed, a feat few would believe possible given the vast quantities of time devoted to the topic the previous year. Our teams started the year off beautifully; Josh could not have been happier. Each of our three teams finished in a tie for first at the Hamline Invitational, our first tournament. Josh, not surprisingly, was named an Outstanding Attorney for the tournament. After consolidating to two teams for our next tournament, Josh and I remained on separate teams in order to help those with less mock experience. Both teams did very well at the tournament against some exceedingly difficult competition. Finally, we changed the teams around in the manner we believed would make us most able to meet our ultimate mock goal: a national championship. It is an understatement to say that things were looking good on the horizon of the realm of mock, a sphere of life so beloved by Josh.

Everything was falling into place for Josh until November 9, 2002. I was with Josh earlier that evening. We went to supper; afterwards, he and a friend went to his room to socialize; I retreated to my room to work on a paper. I, of course, could not help but to walk across the hall on a few occasions to chat with the two of them; they were both in cheerful spirits. Last year, thanks to Josh, I became a part of a wonderful new circle of friends, with all of whom I remain friendly. With some of them I became extremely close. To Josh I owe so many friendships. I went to visit some of the friends I had made through Josh that evening. As I left the room, he and his friend accompanied me down the stairs. They were going to smoke some rather expensive cigars, which Josh had procured the previous weekend at our Mock Trial tournament. He certainly enjoys the finer things in life. When we arrived outside our apartment door, I (as is my prudish nature) refused a cigar, but stayed and conversed with the two of them for a few minutes. Then, I left to go to see some other friends; of course, they are Josh’s friends as well. At about 8:30, I left Josh; I have not seen him since.

The events that occurred just hours after I last saw Josh remain unclear; whatever happened has been the source of an unimaginable amount of anguish to so many people. Josh was last seen leaving a small gathering of friends late that evening or very early the next morning. He began the short walk back to St. Maur House, our home. He never returned to his room. We do not know why; we can only venture the most painful guesses of our lives. An exhaustive search of the massive St. John’s campus has turned up very little evidence pointing to Josh’s location. We do not know where he is or why he is there.

What we do know, though, is the extent to which human beings can be truly good. The response of the St. Ben’s and St. John’s communities, the local citizenry, and even the nation have been nothing short of amazing. Whether it be students skipping classes, even test, to help in the search, or people from across the nation who have experienced similar situations calling to offer their support, the response has been utterly phenomenal. For this, I cannon even begin to express my gratitude.

For the response of friends and family, we owe an infinite debt. To see people come together from the many walks of Josh’s life, in a common cause to which we all give our unending support, has been the force necessary to keep us all from collapsing in the face of unrelenting doubt and fear. Sharing both laughter and tears has been an essential part of dealing with crisis; without each other, our lives would have turned from awful, even hellish, to utterly unbearable.

Through the uncertainty that shrouds the lives of so many, one fact remains clear: when Josh finally does return home, he will be welcomed with the open arms of friends more grateful than anyone could ever imagine.