Bryson Saddoris was a big-hearted young man, an expectant father, and someone struggling with addiction — a fight he desperately wanted to win on the day he was killed.
His grandmother, Cyndi Faught Sato, keeps more than 1,000 photos of Bryson on her phone. She scrolls through them, each image capturing a different side of him — joy, sorrow, anger. Around her neck hang small amulets holding his ashes and thumbprint. “This is where he is now, and where he’ll always be — right here with my heart,” she said, gently touching the jewelry.
At just 21, Saddoris was murdered in the early hours of July 25 at a home on North Randolph Street in Macomb. The case is complicated: two co-defendants have pointed fingers at each other, describing a blurred, meth-fueled weekend. As of Tuesday, 24-year-old Morgan Bearce, who lived at the home, remains charged. Charges against 34-year-old Sean Hayes were dropped after new evidence surfaced, according to State’s Attorney Matt Kwacala.
Saddoris leaves behind his parents, six siblings, a girlfriend, and a baby born days after his death.
Sato remembers Bryson as a funny, loving kid with a huge heart. He was a talented left-handed pitcher with promising baseball skills. His happiest days were spent at St. Louis Cardinals games with family. He loved cooking and had even started learning Japanese from Sato’s husband.
“Growing up, he always had this beautiful smile and was always joking around,” she said. He was close to his siblings and, despite his addiction, stayed connected to family, attending holidays and holding himself together. The family never stopped loving or supporting him.
In high school, Saddoris lost interest, dropped out, and fell in with the wrong crowd. Alternative school and GED classes at Spoon River College didn’t stick.
Sato knew early on about his addiction but didn’t fully grasp its depth. To her, he was still her grandson — just facing new struggles.
“There were several times he called me and said, ‘Grandma, I need some help,’” she said. His father’s insurance meant long waits for treatment. Saddoris sometimes checked himself into emergency rooms, but those visits only offered temporary relief.
Their last conversation, around his May birthday, seemed normal. Saddoris sounded happy but complained about friends stealing from him. Sato had stopped sending cash, instead giving gifts she hoped he could use.
He talked excitedly about his unborn child, but it was clear he was struggling.
The family is grieving, and Sato, a Xray technologist in the St. Louis area, often sees patients who remind her of Bryson. Staying busy helps her cope.
“It was senseless,” she said. “It didn’t have to happen.”
She wants people to know Bryson was more than his addiction.
“He was such a great kid,” she said. “He’d do anything for anyone. He could’ve gotten clean and done great things.”
Sato urges families to keep pushing loved ones with addiction to seek help and to stand by them. For Bryson, it wasn’t the drugs that killed him — it was the dangerous people the drugs brought into his life.
“There are a lot of bad people out there,” she said. “Always try to teach what’s right and wrong, and how good it feels to live a good life.”
Sato added that she wanted to thank the individuals who initally reported evidence of Saddoris' murder to police.
"If they hadn't come forward, I'm afraid we may have never known what happened to him," she said.
