WHERE IS RAKESH PATEL?
- Trenchport Roleplay
- Apr 5
- 3 min read
Updated: Apr 23
Beloved Corner Store Owner Missing for Days as Questions Mount
By: Lena Carmichael, Senior Investigative Reporter
Trenchport, AL — At the corner of ML King Boulevard, nestled between a shuttered laundromat and a worn-out tax service office, stands the Quick Stop—a tiny, aging convenience store that, for nearly two decades, has been more than just a place to grab a soda or a pack of smokes. For the residents of District 2, it has been a neighborhood anchor. Its heartbeat was a quiet, kind-eyed man named Rakesh Patel, known affectionately to many as "Rick."
Now, for the first time in years, that heartbeat has gone silent. And no one seems to know why.
Patel, 57, was last seen on the evening of March 29th, around 6:15 PM, working the register at Quick Stop. According to a formal missing persons report filed by Chief Marcus Dawson of the Trenchport Police Department on April 1st, an anonymous tip through the Crimestoppers line initiated the investigation, citing that Patel had been missing for over 72 hours.
After learning of the tip Trenchport Tribune hit the streets to speak with the community. “He was just there,” says Michael Browder, a longtime neighbor and daily customer. “Same Rick. Same smile. He was chatting with a couple of women by the drinks fridge. I didn’t think anything of it. But the next morning, the store was dark. That’s not like him.”
In his statement provided to the Tribune, Browder described the morning of March 30th as the first red flag. “Lights off, doors locked. Rick never closes—not even on Christmas.” He waited for over an hour, expecting the familiar jingle of keys and Patel’s standard "Sorry 'bout the wait," but it never came.
When he returned later that day, the store had reopened—this time, with someone new behind the counter. “There was a rather... mean looking, brown haired woman there. Never seen her before,” Browder recalls. “She said she was the new owner, like it was no big deal. No ‘Under New Management’ sign. No notice. Nothing. Just... different.”
According to the report, Patel was last seen wearing his usual attire: a plain white Quick Stop t-shirt and blue jeans. He has brown eyes, black hair streaked with gray, and a neatly trimmed goatee. A distinctive scar runs across his left cheek, though few in the neighborhood know its origin. “It was just part of Rick,” says longtime customer Geraldine Hayes. “He never talked much about himself, but he was always kind.”
That scar, along with a lack of tattoos and no known distinguishing marks beyond his goatee, has been noted in the official file, Case #MD-302-04032025-1.
A Quiet Life, A Loud Mystery
Patel’s personal life was famously private. He lived alone in a modest apartment above the post office in the Municipal District, rarely took days off, and never spoke of family though the Tribune has since found out he has a wife and two children, including a newborn daughter. Yet in his simplicity, he cultivated something remarkable: trust.
“He looked out for the kids,” says Pastor Wiggins from the Baptist Church down the block. “Kept candy cheap, made sure they didn’t buy energy drinks. He knew everybody’s name. That store was more than a business — it was a community and a pride of the city.”
Now, that community, and the city, is riddled with questions. Who are the two women last seen speaking with Patel? Why did the store re-open so quickly under unknown ownership? And why has no security footage —if it exists— been made available to the public?
Trenchport Police have declined to comment on the ongoing investigation, citing its active status. Chief Dawson, in a brief phone statement, confirmed the case is being taken seriously. “We’re exploring all angles. Mr. Patel is a valued member of this community. We encourage anyone with information to come forward.”
As the investigation unfolds, the storefront remains open, the shelves restocked. But regulars say it doesn’t feel the same. “It’s eerie,” Browder says. “The lights are on, but it’s like the soul is gone.”
For now, the question lingers like smoke in a sealed room:
Where is Rick Patel?
