I tracked down my KILLER BROTHER'S

After almost four decades of grief, Penny Farmer was determined to get to the truth.

- PENNY FARMER, FRANCES LEATE

Watching Chris race around on his motorbike, wearing his leather jacket, I thought he was the coolest big brother anyone could ever have. At 17, I idolised him, always begging for rides on the back of his Yamaha or sneaking into his room to listen to his Jimi Hendrix records. He was eight years older and it never occurred to me he wouldn’t always be there, until he was suddenly gone, without warning or explanation, throwing my life off course and taking me on a 38-year quest for the truth.

It was December 1977 when Chris, a trainee doctor, then 24, set off backpacking with his childhood sweetheart, Peta Frampton, 24. They’d been together since they were 14 and, both adventurous types, I knew they’d have an incredible time, but it didn’t stop me sobbing as Chris hugged me goodbye on our parents’ doorstep in Wilmslow, Cheshire.

‘Make sure you look after them,’ Chris winked, looking over to our dad, Charles, 65, and mum, Audrey, 52, who was trying not to cry.

Adventure of a lifetime

Every few weeks, a letter would arrive from Peta, and hearing about their adventures made the oceans between us feel smaller. After three months in Australia, they explored the South Pacific before travelling to Mexico, and in May 1978, Chris sent a tape of him saying happy birthday to our older brother, Nigel, 28. ‘He sounds happy,’ I thought. Then, in June, Peta wrote from Belize about a ‘larger than life’ American sailor called Silas Duane Boston they’d met in a bar, who’d offered to take them to Honduras on his sailing boat, along with his two sons, Russell, 13, and Vince, 12.