Garrison Brown, whose family is at the center of the long-running TLC reality series Sister Wives, was found dead at 25.
His mother, Janelle Brown, and his estranged father, Kody Brown, posted similar messages on their social media.
“Kody and I are deeply saddened to announce the loss of our beautiful boy Robert Garrison Brown,” the statement by Janelle read.
“He was a bright spot in the lives of all who knew him. His loss will leave such a big hole in our lives that it takes our breath away.”
It went on: “We ask that you please respect our privacy and join us in honoring his memory.”
Flagstaff Police said that Garrison died “as a result of an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound,” as reported by Variety.
His deceased body was discovered by his brother Gabriel, 22, after Janelle asked her children if anyone could check on Garrison since he stopped responding to her messages. Prior to his suicide, Garrison was sending “troubling” messages to some of his friends.
According to TMZ, Janelle revealed to the police that “Garrison had texted a group of people that the Brown family works with [presumably from their show].”
In one of the messages, he allegedly stated: “I want to hate you for sharing the good times. But I can’t. I miss these days.”
When Janelle got a word about these messages, she texted Garrison directly. The two had a brief conversation but he then stopped responding.
Those who knew Garrison could witness his troubles. Some of his friends even spoke of him as of not a happy man.
According to TMZ, his roommates heard a pop on Monday night but they had no idea it could be a gunshot. They, however, didn’t check on him.
They said they were aware he was having troubles with alcohol abuse as well as problems with his ex-girlfriend. He was said to be battling depression, too.
Garrison was part of the show Sister Wives, which features the lives of his father and his four wives and many children, from the start. At the time the show first aired in 2010, he was just 12 years old.
His parents were together for thirty years, with Janelle becoming Kody’s second wife, but they split in 2022. They had six children together.
Last year, Kody opened up about his recently estranged relationship with his eldest son.
“I haven’t been in touch with Gabriel and Garrison for quite a while,” he shared at the time.
“I’m pretty sad that I’m not close [to them] anymore. There was just so many things in our lives that we did that were rich together, you know, just special experiences.”
He went on: “I think and hope that in time we’ll just get over this and that we’ll be safe being back around each other.
“Right now, there’s not really an open door with Gabe and Garrison. They’re they’re not willing to engage me.”
We are so very sorry for this loss.
MY DAD IS REFUSING TO PAY FOR MY WEDDING.
The ornate wedding invitation lay discarded on the floor, its delicate calligraphy mocking me. My father, sitting opposite me at the kitchen table, avoided my gaze, stirring his coffee with a grim determination.
“Dad,” I began, my voice trembling, “I don’t understand. Why won’t you help with the wedding?”
He sighed, a heavy weight settling on his shoulders. “Look, sweetheart, I understand this is important to you. But things are tight right now. I… I simply don’t have the funds.”
“But you paid for Sarah’s wedding,” I countered, my voice rising. “You even gave them a down payment on their house!”
He looked up, his eyes avoiding mine. “Things were different then. I had just gotten a promotion…”
“That’s not fair, Dad!” I exclaimed, my voice cracking. “I’m your daughter too! You promised to help with my wedding.”
He looked away, his face etched with a mixture of guilt and frustration. “I know, I know. But things have changed. I’ve had some unexpected medical expenses…”
Unexpected medical expenses? That seemed to be his excuse for everything these days. My father, a man who had always prided himself on his financial stability, was suddenly plagued by a series of unforeseen calamities.
“But Dad,” I pleaded, “this is my wedding. I’ve been planning this for years. I’ve already booked the venue, sent out invitations…”
He looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and helplessness. “I know, sweetheart. I know. But I just can’t.”
The weight of his words hit me like a physical blow. I felt betrayed, abandoned. My dream wedding, the culmination of years of planning and anticipation, was slipping through my fingers.
Tears welled up in my eyes. “Fine,” I said, my voice trembling. “If you won’t help, then I’ll figure it out myself.”
I stormed out of the house, the sound of his sigh echoing in my ears. I felt alone, abandoned, and utterly heartbroken. How could he do this to me? After all the years of sacrifices, all the love and support I had given him, he was abandoning me in my time of need.
The following days were a blur of frantic phone calls, desperate budget cuts, and agonizing decisions. I had to scale back the guest list, eliminate the live band, and compromise on every detail of my dream wedding. The joy I had anticipated was replaced by a gnawing sense of resentment and disappointment.
But I refused to let my father ruin my happiness. I vowed to make this wedding happen, even if it meant going into debt. I worked overtime, picked up extra shifts at the coffee shop, and even sold some of my prized possessions.
The wedding day finally arrived, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. As I walked down the aisle, my father sat in the front row, his face etched with a mixture of pride and regret. I smiled at him, a small, forgiving smile.
The ceremony was beautiful, despite the scaled-down budget. And as I stood at the altar, exchanging vows with the man I loved, I realized that my father’s absence had only made me stronger. It had taught me the importance of independence, of resilience, of relying on myself.
Later, as we danced our first dance, I looked at my husband, his eyes filled with love and admiration. “I did it,” I whispered, “I did it without his help.”
He smiled, pulling me closer. “You always were a fighter,” he said. “I’m so proud of you.”
Looking back, I realized that my father’s refusal to help, while hurtful, had been a blessing in disguise. It had forced me to become stronger, more independent, and more resourceful. It had taught me the true meaning of self-reliance and the importance of believing in myself.
And as I looked into my husband’s eyes, I knew that despite the challenges, we had built a life together, a life that was truly our own.
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