Angel Carlick disappeared on a spring night in Whitehorse; nearly six months later, her remains were found—but the truth about what happened to her is still missing

 On May 26, 2007, in Whitehorse, Yukon, nineteen-year-old Angel Carlick stepped out into the night with plans, with purpose, and with a future that—by every account—was just beginning to take shape. She was weeks away from graduating high school, a milestone that should have marked the start of something new. Instead, it became a dividing line between who she was and the unanswered questions that now define her story.

Angel was not drifting through life. She was building one. She worked at a local non-profit, running a dinner program where she cooked meals for children in her community. That detail matters, because it speaks to who she was at her core—someone who showed up for others, someone who understood responsibility, someone who gave her time and energy to people who needed it. She loved music and painting, and those who knew her describe a young woman who was both creative and deeply connected to the people around her. She was a youth advocate, a loyal friend, and a protective older sister. There is a consistency in how she is remembered: caring, engaged, and grounded in community.

That is not the profile of someone who simply disappears.

On the evening she went missing, Angel left a friend’s home and made her way to downtown Whitehorse on her bike. At some point later that night, she called her best friend from a payphone, making plans to meet up. It was an ordinary moment—one of those small, forgettable interactions that only becomes significant in hindsight. It suggests she was moving through her evening with intention, with connection, and with the expectation that she would see her friends again.

She never did.

Angel was last seen walking away from Main Street with one or more individuals. That moment—unremarkable at the time—now stands as the last known point where her life intersected with the public eye. After that, there is only silence.

For nearly six months, her family and community lived in that silence, searching for answers that did not come. Then, on November 9, 2007, a walker discovered her remains in a wooded area in the Pilot Mountain subdivision, just north of Whitehorse. The discovery brought confirmation, but not clarity. It is still not known whether Angel died in that location or if she was taken there after her death. The distance between where she was last seen and where she was found leaves room for possibilities that have yet to be fully explained.

And that is where this case remains suspended—between what is known and what has never been answered.

Angel Carlick’s death is not closed. It is not resolved. It is an active investigation that continues to demand attention, not only from law enforcement but from a broader public that too often moves on too quickly from cases involving young women, particularly those who were deeply embedded in their communities yet somehow still vulnerable to harm.

In recent years, there has been renewed effort to bring attention to Angel’s case, including collaboration with the CBC podcast Someone Knows Something, which dedicated a season to examining her disappearance and death. That kind of sustained focus matters. It reopens conversations, surfaces new leads, and reminds people that time does not diminish the need for accountability.

Because someone knows what happened to Angel Carlick.

Someone saw something that night. Someone knows who she was with when she walked away from Main Street. Someone has carried information—whether out of fear, loyalty, or silence—that could move this case forward. The passage of time does not erase that responsibility. If anything, it sharpens it.

Angel was nineteen years old. She was on the edge of adulthood, already contributing to her community in ways that many never do. She was not invisible. She was not forgotten. And she should not be reduced to a case file that quietly gathers dust.

If you have any information about Angel Carlick’s disappearance or death, you are urged to come forward.

Contact Information:
Yukon RCMP – Historical Case Unit
Phone: (867) 667-5500
Email: MDIV_HCU@rcmp-grc.gc.ca

There are families who learn to live with loss. What they should never have to live with is silence.




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