Five young men, one snowy February night, and a vanishing that still defies all logic.

Their car was found abandoned.

Engine working, gas in the tank, but no trace of them anywhere.

And when one body finally surfaced months later, it only deepened the nightmare.

What really happened to the Yub County 5? Stay with me because this story gets darker, stranger, and more heartbreaking than you could ever imagine.

It began on the night of February 24th, 1978.

Five friends, Gary Matias, Bill Sterling, Jack Madruga, Jack Hwitt, and Ted Wire left a basketball game at Chico State University in Northern California.

They never made a home.

Days later, searchers found their Mercury Montego abandoned deep in the Plum’s National Forest, far off any logical route back to Yubis City.

The car was in perfect working order.

No flat tires, enough fuel, keys missing, but the doors unlocked.

Snow blanketed the wilderness.

Temperatures at night plunge below freezing.

But of the five men, there was no sign, no footprints leading away, no tracks, only silence and frozen trees.

Months passed.

Then came the first terrible discovery inside a remote US Forest Service trailer nearly 20 m from where the car had been abandoned.

The body of Ted Wer was found wrapped tightly in sheets, sholess, beard grown long, suggesting he survived for weeks.

Food and supplies were inside the trailer.

Yet they remained untouched.

Why hadn’t he saved himself? Were the others? How had five men ended up trapped in one of the most desolate places in California? And why did only one body surface? Tonight, we unravel the haunting mystery of the Yuba County 5.

And trust me, by the end of this story, you’ll have more questions than answers.

Before the tragedy, before the haunting headlines and unanswered questions, they were just five young men living simple, hopeful lives in Yuba City, California.

They weren’t famous.

They weren’t troubled.

They were sons, brothers, friends, good-hearted men with challenges, but also with dreams like anyone else.

First, there was Gary Matias, 25 years old.

Gary had struggled with schizophrenia for years.

He had been discharged honorably from the United States Army after his mental health deteriorated.

But recently, things have been going well.

medication kept his symptoms under control, and he was beginning to rebuild his life.

He played sports, spent time with his friends, and dreamed of holding a steady job.

Then there was Jack Madruga, 30 years old.

Jack had never been officially diagnosed with a disability, but he had a low IQ and often needed structure and routine to navigate daily life.

He was fiercely independent, though he had served in the US Army and worked hard to buy his prized possession, a turquoise and white 1969 Mercury Montego.

Jack was quiet, dependable, and always looking out for his friends.

Bill Sterling, 29, was the heart of the group.

He had a developmental disability and lived with his parents.

Bill was deeply religious, loved visiting the library, and had a warm, gentle way about him.

His kindness was genuine, and his family adored him.

Jack Hwitt, the youngest of 24, had a learning disability and lived a joyful, innocent life under the loving care of his family.

Jack had a childlike enthusiasm about everything, especially about hanging out with his best friends.

He loved nature, sports, and laughter.

And finally, Ted Wer, 32 years old.

Ted had a mild intellectual disability, but that never stopped his larger than-l life personality.

He was friendly, helpful, and loved volunteering with the Special Olympics.

Ted adored sports and spent hours watching and talking about basketball with his friends.

Together, they were inseparable.

Their bond was something pure, a deep friendship built on trust, acceptance, and loyalty.

They weren’t outcasts to each other.

They were brothers.

Weekends meant piling into Jack’s Mercury Montego, grabbing snacks, going to basketball games, or spending hours at the movies.

They supported each other in ways few outsiders ever saw.

Cheering for one another, protecting one another, and laughing at inside jokes no one else understood.

Their families were proud.

Proud of the independence they had achieved.

Proud of the good choices they made.

And proud of the goodness in their hearts.

They weren’t reckless.

They weren’t rebellious.

They were dependable, responsible, and most of all, deeply loved.

February 24th, 1978 was supposed to be another ordinary, joyful day.

The five friends were thrilled.

They were heading to Chico State University about 50 mi north to watch a college basketball game.

It was the eve of their own Special Olympics basketball tournament, an event they had been training for and dreaming about for weeks.

The excitement was real.

Ted had even laid out his Gateway Gator basketball uniform the night before, carefully folding it so it would be ready.

Bill had proudly told his family about the tournament, imagining himself winning a medal.

Their coaches and families had so much faith in them.

They left together in Jack’s Mercury Montego in the early evening.

All smiles and high spirits.

They plan to watch the game, grab some snacks, and head home early to get a good night’s sleep before their big day.

There are no arguments, no signs of trouble, just five friends heading off into the night on a trip that should have been simple, easy, and forgettable.

But somewhere something went wrong, terribly wrong.

And within a few hours, five families would begin living a nightmare that would last for decades.

It started like a night full of simple joys.

On February 24th, 1978, the Yuba County 5, Jack Madruga, Bill Sterling, Ted Wer, Jack Hwitt, and Gary Matias piled in a Jack’s prize 1969 Mercury Montego and headed to Chico, California.

They had one goal, watch the college basketball game at Chico State.

Their own special Olympics tournament was the next day, and attending the game was a way to get inspired.

The Chico State game ended around 1000 p.m.

Afterward, the five friends stopped at Bears Market, a local convenience store, and bought snacks, hostess pies, chocolate milk, soda, and candy bars.

The store clerk remembered them vividly.

They were cheerful, normal, nothing out of the ordinary.

At around 10:30 p.m., they left the market and drove off into the night, heading home.

Or at least that’s what everyone thought.

But something went terribly wrong.

When the families awoke the next morning and realized the boys hadn’t come home, panic set in immediately.

These weren’t teenagers who might have decided to stay out late.

These were men with developmental challenges who valued their routines.

Their absence, without any calls, without showing up for their tournament, was completely out of character.

The search began immediately.

It didn’t take long to find their car.

The Mercury Montego was discovered by a forest ranger on a lonely narrow mountain road near Plum’s National Forest about 70 mi northeast of Chico, far off the path they should have been taken to get back to Yuba City.

The car was abandoned.

The doors were unlocked.

One window was rolled down.

Inside, the keys were gone, but strangely, the car itself was in good working order.

It wasn’t stuck in the snow.

It could have easily been driven back down the road.

There were no signs of struggle, no damage to the car.

Nothing was stolen.

The snacks they bought were still halfeaten on the seats.

The question was immediate and chilling.

Why they driven up this desolate mountain road? Jack Madrugo was known to hate the cold and the wilderness.

He would never willingly take a dirt mountain road at night, especially not in winter.

Even more puzzling, the dirt road near where the car was found led deeper into the wilderness.

Footprints, possibly matching the group’s shoes, were spotted leading away from the car and into the snowy woods, but the tracks would soon disappear under fresh snowfall, leaving few clues behind.

Had they gotten lost? Had someone lure them off the highway? Had they panicked when the car stopped and decided to set out on foot into the freezing night, it made no sense.

Temperatures that night dropped below freezing.

The wilderness around them was brutal and unfamiliar.

The police were baffled.

The families were frantic, canvasing the area, posting flyers, and begging for information.

Helicopters circled overhead, their search lights scanning the endless snow-covered wilderness.

Search dogs were brought in, sniffing the icy ground for any sign of the missing man.

Volunteers, dozens of them, trudged through snow drifts and thick forest brush, calling out the boy’s names.

For days, the search teams pushed through freezing temperatures and brutal terrain.

But there was nothing.

No bodies, no clothing, no supplies, no footprints beyond those few faint tracks near the abandoned car.

It was as if the five men had simply vanished in a thin air.

The authorities dug deeper.

They retraced every step from Chico to the lonely dirt road.

They combed through the boy’s histories, looking for anything that could explain why they might head into the mountains.

But nothing made sense.

None of the boys were outdoorsmen.

They weren’t familiar with the rugged wilderness where the car was found.

and their family swore they would never willingly abandon the safety of the car for the unforgiving woods in the middle of a freezing February night.

And then strange leads began to emerge, adding even more confusion.

One local man came forward with a chilling claim.

He said he had seen a group of people possibly matching the boy’s description near the abandoned car the night they disappeared.

But when pressed for details, he became vague.

He couldn’t positively identify them.

Were they really the Yubi County 5 or just random travelers lost in the night? There was no way to know.

Then came the anonymous phone call.

The police received a tip, a voice giving them cryptic directions, saying they could find the missing boys if they searched a particular area.

Excited but cautious, investigators followed the lead, but it led to nothing.

Another dead end.

Another devastating blow.

Meanwhile, whispers and rumors swirled through Yuba County.

Some said the boys have been kidnapped.

Others whispered about drugs, cults, or foul play.

Some even suggested Gary Matias, who had a history of schizophrenia, had suffered a psychotic break and led them into danger.

But again, there was no evidence for any of it.

The only thing the investigators knew for certain was that the Mercury Montego could have easily driven out of the area.

The car wasn’t stuck.

It had a quarter tank of gas left.

Even stranger, when police tested it, the engine turned over immediately.

No mechanical failure, no flat tires, nothing wrong at all.

So why abandon it? And why leave the safety of the car to march into the snow covered darkness? The investigators were tormented by the possibilities, but no answers came.

As the weeks dragged on, hope began to fade.

The families who had clung desperately to the belief their sons would be found were now haunted by grief and unanswered questions.

Mothers who once sat by the phone waiting for news now sat by the window staring into the distance.

Fathers who had joined the search parties returned home exhausted, broken, and empty-handed.

The truth waited until June 4th, 1978.

A small group of motorcyclists exploring the remote wilderness of Plum’s National Forest stumbled upon something unsettling.

An old Forest Service trailer.

And inside, a horrifying discovery.

It was the body of Ted Wer, one of the five missing men.

The trailer sat about 20 mi from where their car had been abandoned.

An unimaginable distance to walk through deep snow and freezing temperatures.

But it wasn’t just the location that shocked investigators.

It was the strange and haunting way Ted had been found.

Ted’s body lay on a bed inside the trailer.

Several blankets were carefully, almost lovingly wrapped tightly around him, including his head and shoulders, as if someone had tried to keep him warm or comfort him as he died.

But he wasn’t wearing shoes.

His feet were severely frostbitten, frozen, and blackened by the elements.

Even more chilling, the trailer itself wasn’t truly isolated from survival.

Inside were stocked supplies, canned food untouched, a propane tank fully functional that could have provided heating and cooking, heavy winter clothing and matches, all of it completely unused.

Authorities estimated Ted had survived for anywhere from 8 to 13 weeks inside the trailer before finally succumbing to exposure and starvation.

He had lost nearly half his body weight.

His beard had grown long, a silent testimony to how long he had clung to life, alone, cold, and waiting for help that never came.

There were more troubling details.

A broken window suggested the men had broken in for shelter.

But why hadn’t they used the food or heat? Why had Ted and possibly the others chosen slow starvation over using what was available? It didn’t add up.

The investigators kept searching and just outside the trailer, scattered across the rugged terrain, they found even more horror.

The remains of Jack Hewitt were discovered about 2 mi away.

Bones picked clean by animals, but positively identified by dental records.

Nearby, they found pieces of clothing belonging to Bill Sterling and Jack Madruga.

And soon after, their skeletal remains as well.

The bones lay scattered across the snow malt fields, exposed to months of weather and wildlife.

It seemed the group had split up after leaving the car, trying to find shelter.

But only Ted had made it to the trailer, only to die slowly, helplessly, despite being surrounded by everything he needed to survive.

But one man was still missing, Gary Matias.

No trace of him, was ever found.

His shoes, oddly, had been discovered inside the trailer, suggesting he had been there alive at least for some time.

Some theorized that Gary had ventured back into the wilderness to find help, and simply never made it.

Others whispered darker possibilities, that something had happened between the group, something desperate, something driven by fear, madness, or survival.

The mountain held its secrets tightly.

The families already shattered by months of uncertainty now faced an even more agonizing truth.

Their sons had not simply vanished.

They had suffered.

They had been so close to salvation.

And yet, salvation had slipped through their fingers.

The discovery of Ted Wire’s body raised far more questions than answers.

Why hadn’t they used the food? Why hadn’t they lit the propane for heat? Why had they separated instead of staying together? And most chilling of all, where was Gary Matias? The case of the Yuba County 5, once a baffling disappearance, now became something even darker.

A lingering, unsolved tragedy that defied logic and haunted everyone who knew their story.

Now, with four of the five men found dead and Gary Matias still missing, the world began to speculate.

What really happened that night? The official theory was simple, almost too simple.

The men had somehow gotten disoriented after leaving the basketball game.

They had taken a wrong turn, driven into the mountains and confused, cold, and frightened, abandoned the car, and wandered into the wilderness.

But that theory, it didn’t sit right with anyone who knew them.

These men weren’t reckless.

They stuck together, cared for each other.

Jack Madruga especially was known for being careful with his beloved car.

He never would have driven it up that treacherous mountain road voluntarily.

And even if they had gotten lost, why didn’t they simply turn back? Why walk 20 m through snow drifts deep into desolate forest with no clear plan? And Ted’s body found wrapped neatly in blankets inside a trailer filled with untouched supplies.

It made no sense.

Other theories began to surface.

Some whispered about foul play.

Could someone have forced them off the road that night? Was there a sinister figure or a group that had lured them deep into the mountains? A chilling account emerged.

A man working at a nearby lodge claimed he had heard something strange the night the men disappeared.

He spoke of seeing headlights and hearing whistling and shouting in the forest, but by the time he investigated, there was nothing there.

Was it the boys lost calling for help? or was it someone or something chasing them? Rumors spread like wildfire.

Some suggested the men were running from an unseen threat, that they had been scared into the wilderness, fleeing in terror.

But others pointed out the Yubi County 5 were known for being cautious and trusting.

They wouldn’t run blindly unless they truly believe their lives were in danger.

Then there were darker conspiracies.

A few believe the local population might have had something to do with it.

The mountains were remote and isolated, filled with people who didn’t always welcome outsiders.

Could the five men have stumbled across something? Something they were never meant to see, a criminal network, an illegal operation hidden deep in the woods, or was it something even more personal? And then there was Gary Matias.

His disappearance fueled even more speculation.

Gary, unlike the others, had a history of mental illness, schizophrenia, though he had been stable for years, managing it carefully with medication.

Some theorized that Gary had a psychotic break, leading the others into the wilderness.

Others believed he may have survived longer than the rest, and disappeared into the forest, possibly even living off-rid somewhere.

A handful even dared to wonder, “Did Gary have something to do with the deaths of his friends?” But again, those who knew him dismissed that thought.

Gary had loved his friends.

He had never shown violence toward them.

He had been excited about the basketball tournament, dreaming of winning a Special Olympics medal, just like the others.

And yet, his absence remained an unsolved riddle at the heart of the tragedy.

The facts refused to fit neatly into any one theory.

If they were lost, why did they continue deeper into the mountains rather than turn around? If they were running from something, what terrified them so much that they fled into deadly wilderness without proper clothing, supplies, or a plan? If there was foul play, why wasn’t there any sign of struggle or violence? The police found no fingerprints, no blood, no evidence of foul play, the car, the trailer, or anywhere in between.

The case, baffling, heartbreaking, grew colder with each passing season.

In Yuba County, once an ordinary small town corner of California, became home to one of the strangest, most tragic mysteries in American true crime history.

Decades have passed since that cold February night in 1978.

Yet, the Yuba County 5 case remains an open wound, unsolved, unforgotten, and as haunting as ever.

Despite dozens of interviews, hundreds of leads, and multiple search expeditions, no new evidence has surfaced to explain why Gary Matias, Jack Madruga, Bill Sterling, Jack Hwitt, and Ted Wer vanished into the Plum’s National Forest, only to be discovered months later in scattered tragic circumstances.

Modern forensic techniques have been applied to the remnants of the case.

DNA testing on recovered artifacts, re-examination of witness statements, even ground penetrating radar in key locations.

But still, the core mystery endures.

Families of the five men have spent a lifetime seeking closure.

Some, like Ted Wer’s mother, travel back to that lonely trailer each anniversary, leaving fresh flowers by the threshold, hoping for a sign.

Others, like Gary Matias’s younger sister, joined online communities dedicated to solving cold cases, posting age progress sketches, and sifting through satellite imagery.

A few have quietly accepted that the answers may never come, carrying their grief in private memorials and silent visuals.

The disappearance has left an indelible mark on Yubis City.

Locals still exchange theories in hush tones.

Was it a tragic navigation error? A psychotic break or something more sinister? An unfathomable crime that prayed on five vulnerable young men.

Annual retrospectives appear in regional newspapers.

Podcasts revisit the case with fresh interviews.

True crime afficionados trek to the old bus stop on Aspen Road, laying reads and momentos.

Yet every theory falters against the same stubborn facts.

The car abandoned with keys in the ignition.

The untouched supplies in the trailer, Gary Matias’s shoes found inside, yet no sign of him.

The physical clues refuse to coalesce into a coherent narrative, leaving only questions.

Why did they leave a working vehicle for a perilous trek into a freezing wilderness? Why didn’t Ted and the others utilize the life-saving resources in that trailer? What became of Gary Matias? Did he escape on his own to vanish forever? These questions echo through time unanswered.

The Yuba County 5 remain more than a cold case.

They are a testament to the fragility of human plans against the unforgiving forces of nature and mystery.

And as long as those questions linger, their story will continue to captivate, confound, and haunt anyone who dares to ask, “What really happened that night? What do you believe happened to the Yubi County 5?” Share your theories in the comments below.

If you’re fascinated by unsolved mysteries like this, hit like and subscribe because sometimes the journey toward truth is the most compelling story of all.

In the end, the Yuba County 5 remain an enigma, a puzzle with missing pieces that may never be found.

After over 40 years, no definitive answer has emerged.

Were they simply lost in the night? Victims of a tragic navigational error and the merciless winter wilderness.

Or did something darker intervene? An unseen hand that lured them from safety into despair.

Their families still feel the ache of unanswered questions.

Some hold on a hope that one day Gary Matias’s whereabouts will be revealed, that the full story will come to light.

Others have found a measure of peace in accepting the mystery, honoring their loved ones, not for the way they died, but for the lives they lived and the bond they shared.

Tonight, we remember five men who laughed together, dreamed together, and vanished together.

Gary, Jack Madruga, Bill, Jack Hwitt, and Ted.

They were sons, brothers, friends, volunteers, teammates.

Their hopes were simple.

To belong.

to compete, to be seen for who they were.

And though their story ended in tragedy, their legacy endures in every whisper of the pines and every footstep on that lonely mountain road.

If their disappearance teaches us anything, it is that life can change in an instant and that the search for truth is never truly over.

The wilderness may guard its secrets, but our remembrance keeps their story alive.

What do you think happened to the Yuba County 5? Share your thoughts and theories in the comments below.

If this story moved you, please like, subscribe, and ring the bell because together we keep their memory alive and maybe, just maybe, someone out there will find the answers they deserve.