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I thought I could wave my magic private investigations wand, and viola, out appears my client's birth father. Tada!

That was not the case at all.

Early this year, a new client from Cincinnati, let's call her Jane, reached out. She wanted to find her birth father. A man she'd never met before.

The backstory was that her mother passed away from suspicious circumstances in the 60s, just across the river in Covington, Kentucky, when Jane was one. Her aunt (on her mother's side) then adopted her, and her aunt and uncle raised her.

Jane had three pieces of information: a souvenir birth certificate from the hospital in which she was born, an official birth certificate from the Ohio Bureau of Vital Statistics, and finally, a certificate of adoption. However, Jane didn't know the accuracy of the documents since the names were transposed, and the dates of birth didn't match up.

All she knew was that her birth father had a common name (think: Mike Johnson or John Smith), was born in San Francisco, and was a musician. Her mother and father were never married. But, Jane did have a stepbrother from her mother's first husband, who Jane's mother divorced before Jane was born.

Jane's problem was apparent. If she didn't find out who her father was, it could be too late - he could have passed away, and she'd have never met him. And she'll have this lingering mystery, this question, hanging over her head.

She had already done her own investigation: she set up an account on 23 and Me, which gave some results, but nothing concrete. 

Not much to go on, but I said I'd put my best foot forward and get to work.

I plucked the low-hanging fruit and popped the birth father's name into several proprietary databases, which usually yield addresses, aliases, driver's license info, and much more. But this one failed - no search results were found. 

Was this birth father real or not?

Occasionally, this happens, so I continued simply adjusting the search parameters: location, date of birth, age range, altering the name, but nothing.

Back to square one. 

Then, I reached out to Vital Statistics entities in San Fran and Cincinnati, and they had no record of the birth father. Finally, I contacted Covington Police in Kentucky for details on Jane's mother's death, but a flood had destroyed their archives.

So, I pulled a flank move instead of going directly for the father. I started reaching out to relatives. Beginning with Jane's aunt and uncle, I attempted to link the to Jane's mother, but again there was no mention of the birth father anywhere.

Then, I returned to Jane's 23 and Me page, logged in with Jane's permission, and traced the closest relative. I found Jane's possible aunt in Indiana, dug up her phone number, and called.

It turns out that this possible aunt knew Jane's stepbrother's father; let's call him "Guy." The aunt and Guy were cousins. And the aunt knew a lot about Guy - he frequented the Cincinnati area, "was quite the ladies' man," and he was a musician. But it had been at least 20 years since she'd seen Guy.

Was the stepbrother not a stepbrother at all but actually a biological brother?

I contacted a fellow investigator to verify my suspicions, an adoption and birth parent expert, Rachelé, from New Hope Investigations. After Rachelé read over my efforts, she said to do one final thing: have the stepbrother and Jane take a DNA test.

I took her advice and advised Jane and her stepbrother to do that. Jane agreed. And, well, let me read the email Jane sent me:

"Adam, I thought you would like to know! My stepbrother and I finally had the DNA test done, and the results were 99.99999% sure that, yes, we have the same father!! It's crazy! After all these years thinking we had different dads, and me thinking mine was someone totally not real! Anyway, thank you for all of your help!"

So, Jane's mother had made up the existence of a birth father all those years ago. And Guy was the biological all along. 

Now Jane has the answers. She has peace of mind. She has the facts.

Case closed.

Adam Visnic, P.I.