It’s the kind of news that hits you right in the gut—Robert Green, a beloved father from James City, has been identified as the man whose body was discovered along the misty shoreline of the Neuse River last week. For weeks, his family clung to hope, scouring the waterways and woods in a desperate bid to bring him home. Now, that hope has turned to sorrow, as authorities confirm the 58-year-old vanished without a trace during a late-night walk that turned tragic.
The call came in on a chilly Thursday afternoon, pulling Craven County deputies to the quiet stretch of Pine Road where the river meets the land. A passerby had spotted what looked like a body half-hidden among the reeds and driftwood, prompting a swift response from first responders. The scene was somber, with the river’s gentle current lapping at the shore as if whispering secrets of what happened. Deputies secured the area quickly, knowing this could be connected to one of the county’s most pressing missing persons cases.
An autopsy wrapped up just yesterday, putting an official end to the uncertainty. Pathologists confirmed it was indeed Robert Green, reported missing by his worried family on November 17. The news spread like wildfire through New Bern’s tight-knit community, where folks had been whispering prayers and sharing tips online. Green’s loved ones had held out for a miracle, but the medical examiner’s report painted a clearer, if heartbreaking, picture—no foul play suspected so far, just the cruel unpredictability of a night gone wrong.
Picture this: It was around 10 p.m. on November 15 when Robert stepped out of his modest home on Kennedy Drive in James City. He wasn’t one for grand plans; friends say he just needed some air, heading out on foot along the familiar railroad tracks toward downtown New Bern. That two-mile stretch felt routine to him, a way to clear his head after a long day. But somewhere in the dark, under a canopy of oaks and pines, things took a turn. His phone went silent, and by morning, panic set in.
That distance from his doorstep to the discovery site—just over two miles—feels almost poetic in its irony. Green’s house sits tucked away in a neighborhood where neighbors wave hello and kids play in the yards. The river, though, it’s wilder, prone to hidden dangers like slippery banks and sudden drops, especially after recent rains swelled the Neuse. Locals know it well; it’s a place for fishing and lazy afternoons, but at night, it can swallow a man whole without a sound.
From the moment he didn’t come home, the search kicked into high gear. The Craven County Sheriff’s Office rallied volunteers, deploying boats to comb the river’s twists and turns, drones buzzing overhead for a bird’s-eye view, and teams on foot hacking through the underbrush. Craven County Emergency Management pitched in too, coordinating the effort with a mix of pros and heartfelt amateurs. But it was Green’s family who stole the show—their raw determination turning strangers into allies as they plastered flyers and knocked on doors, refusing to let the trail go cold.
His wife, Mary Green, spoke briefly to reporters outside the sheriff’s office yesterday, her voice steady but eyes red-rimmed. “Robert was our rock,” she said, clutching a photo of him smiling at a family barbecue. “We searched every inch we could think of, day and night. It doesn’t feel real that he’s gone, but we’re grateful to have him back, even if it’s like this.” The couple had been married 35 years, raising two kids who are now grown and reeling from the loss. Friends remember Green as the guy who’d fix your car or share a cold one on the porch—solid, unassuming, the heart of his little world.
As the investigation wraps up, questions linger about exactly what happened that night. Was it an accident, a slip into the water during his walk? The autopsy didn’t point to anything suspicious, but deputies are still piecing together timelines and witness accounts. The community’s rallied around the Greens, with a memorial fund already popping up at the local bank to help cover costs. In a place like Craven County, where rivers carve the landscape and lives, stories like Robert’s remind us how fragile it all is—one wrong step, and everything changes.
Funeral arrangements are pending, but word is the service will be held at the First Baptist Church in New Bern, where Green was an usher for decades. It’s a small comfort, gathering to celebrate a life cut short, but it’s something. For now, the Neuse flows on, carrying echoes of what was lost, while those who knew Robert hold tight to the memories that made him irreplaceable.
