This weeks news spotlighted two tragedies involving children. One took place 27 years ago- when little Adam Walsh was kidnapped from a Sears while shopping with his mother Reve. He was brutally murdered and decapitated. His father John Walsh began a life long campaign to catch bad guys via “Americas Most Wanted,” TV shows; ironically never able to catch Adams murderer. John Walsh always had a suspect- but the police did not follow the lead- then this week, it was announced that indeed- John Walsh’s suspect was the killer. Case closed.
Then the decomposed bones of little Kaylee Anthony were found in a swampy, wooded area not far from her home. The remains too decomposed to tell the examiner much – other than the bones had not been broken. There is nothing left to tell how this poor child died. I think her mother knows though. Mothers who murder their children are in a category of their own, hopefully with a special place in hell for them. I have no mercy for them.
I was four years old but I vividly remember riding my sister Linda’s old bike out in front of our home on Alemany Boulevard in San Francisco. My parents were outside in the early evening, refinishing their bedroom set. I remember Linda saying to me “Don’t go too far or the kidnappers will get you.” I knew they wouldn’t though, because my dad, the policeman was right there. I probably rode three houses down and then turned around though… I can still feel the memory of fear.
I was cautious. I watched people. My dad taught me to do that I think, or maybe I come by it naturally.
A life long news junkie, I remember one night close to my 32th birthday a year before I had my own son- probably nursing a hangover or working on the next one, watching the news when the story of a missing child broke. Ten year old Kevin Collins just disappeared from the bus stop. In San Francisco! My home! They flashed his photo everywhere. I remember thinking how adorable he was. How could he just disappear? The whole city looked for him. Year after year. I can still see that photo in my minds eye. I can see the anguish on his father’s face too.
Later, there were so many. Mostly girls but some were boys..
Michaela Joy Garecht- 1988 still missing
Amber Swartz –Garcia 1988- still missing
Ilene Misheloff, 1989 still missing
Polly Klaas, - murdered- solved.
Jaycee Lee Dugard- 1991- still missing (found alive 2009!! )
There are too many to name- this would be a book not a blog.
I admit- I have not recently read the details of these cases and the dozens more that followed. But if memory serves me- all of them had some amount of police fumbling. How can that be? On something SO important as a missing child? How could they not cross all their T’s and dot all their I’s?
I understand, if police look at everyone like a suspect… then that means you and I will be suspects too. But... but, what about that old spidy sense which my father had? The one he passed on to me- and me to my son. What happened to the kind of policeman my dad was and the kind he used to work with? The kind that left no stone unturned, and like old hound dogs sniffed out the bad guys.
Why didn’t the officer who stopped Richard Allan Davis the night he had Polly Klaas in his trunk, get goose bumps on the back of his neck? If that is not something that can be taught … can you be tested for it before you get the job? It really should be a requirement for a policeman.
A year after Kevin Collins disappeared I was pregnant with my son Nick and walking up the hill to my apartment from North Beach. I probably didn’t look very pregnant because I was wearing his father’s sweats and a baggy shirt. A man had pulled his station wagon with blacked out windows into a driveway and was looking under the wheel… or pretending to. He asked me if I could help him…and the hair on the back of my neck stood up, my stomach tightened and instead of walking towards him to help I inched away. He pleaded with me to help him- as if I could fix a car… but I knew- I just knew he would have killed me. I reported him and his station wagon with blacked out windows to the police as soon as I got home. I shook the whole way. I hope he never got anyone but I fear that he did. I never heard back from the police.
And people… where do we citizens come in? How about just pay attention? When your mind tells you something is out of whack… a picture doesn’t look right, a child has help me written across their face…listen to it- pay attention- take notes. Get involved- HELP the police. Who cares if they think they need your help or not? They do!
So pay attention. Look at this website. Look at their faces- keep your eyes open for them.
http://www.missingkids.com/
And if you have kids… watch them. The case of Adam Walsh is NOT closed. Someone is out there- and they want to harm someone’s child.
Then the decomposed bones of little Kaylee Anthony were found in a swampy, wooded area not far from her home. The remains too decomposed to tell the examiner much – other than the bones had not been broken. There is nothing left to tell how this poor child died. I think her mother knows though. Mothers who murder their children are in a category of their own, hopefully with a special place in hell for them. I have no mercy for them.
I was four years old but I vividly remember riding my sister Linda’s old bike out in front of our home on Alemany Boulevard in San Francisco. My parents were outside in the early evening, refinishing their bedroom set. I remember Linda saying to me “Don’t go too far or the kidnappers will get you.” I knew they wouldn’t though, because my dad, the policeman was right there. I probably rode three houses down and then turned around though… I can still feel the memory of fear.
I was cautious. I watched people. My dad taught me to do that I think, or maybe I come by it naturally.
A life long news junkie, I remember one night close to my 32th birthday a year before I had my own son- probably nursing a hangover or working on the next one, watching the news when the story of a missing child broke. Ten year old Kevin Collins just disappeared from the bus stop. In San Francisco! My home! They flashed his photo everywhere. I remember thinking how adorable he was. How could he just disappear? The whole city looked for him. Year after year. I can still see that photo in my minds eye. I can see the anguish on his father’s face too.
Later, there were so many. Mostly girls but some were boys..
Michaela Joy Garecht- 1988 still missing
Amber Swartz –Garcia 1988- still missing
Ilene Misheloff, 1989 still missing
Polly Klaas, - murdered- solved.
Jaycee Lee Dugard- 1991- still missing (found alive 2009!! )
There are too many to name- this would be a book not a blog.
I admit- I have not recently read the details of these cases and the dozens more that followed. But if memory serves me- all of them had some amount of police fumbling. How can that be? On something SO important as a missing child? How could they not cross all their T’s and dot all their I’s?
I understand, if police look at everyone like a suspect… then that means you and I will be suspects too. But... but, what about that old spidy sense which my father had? The one he passed on to me- and me to my son. What happened to the kind of policeman my dad was and the kind he used to work with? The kind that left no stone unturned, and like old hound dogs sniffed out the bad guys.
Why didn’t the officer who stopped Richard Allan Davis the night he had Polly Klaas in his trunk, get goose bumps on the back of his neck? If that is not something that can be taught … can you be tested for it before you get the job? It really should be a requirement for a policeman.
A year after Kevin Collins disappeared I was pregnant with my son Nick and walking up the hill to my apartment from North Beach. I probably didn’t look very pregnant because I was wearing his father’s sweats and a baggy shirt. A man had pulled his station wagon with blacked out windows into a driveway and was looking under the wheel… or pretending to. He asked me if I could help him…and the hair on the back of my neck stood up, my stomach tightened and instead of walking towards him to help I inched away. He pleaded with me to help him- as if I could fix a car… but I knew- I just knew he would have killed me. I reported him and his station wagon with blacked out windows to the police as soon as I got home. I shook the whole way. I hope he never got anyone but I fear that he did. I never heard back from the police.
And people… where do we citizens come in? How about just pay attention? When your mind tells you something is out of whack… a picture doesn’t look right, a child has help me written across their face…listen to it- pay attention- take notes. Get involved- HELP the police. Who cares if they think they need your help or not? They do!
So pay attention. Look at this website. Look at their faces- keep your eyes open for them.
http://www.missingkids.com/
And if you have kids… watch them. The case of Adam Walsh is NOT closed. Someone is out there- and they want to harm someone’s child.
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