first husband and looking for a fresh start, Tammy left Ohio with a girlfriend and moved to Texas. There, she met and married Sergio Reyes. Their little girl, Roxann, was born in January 1984. This time, Tammy, who felt that she’d “missed out” on her first two daughters, wasn’t giving up her child. In fact, after she got settled in Texas, she even thought about sending for the other two but realized that they’d grown up counting on Joyce; and it would break their hearts, and her mother’s, to split them up now. So she left them in Ohio and compensated with the affection she and her husband showered on Roxann.
Unlike her country-girl mother, Roxann was a little princess who liked dresses and all the traditionally “girlie” things. She was petite, even for her age, and smart; somehow both spoiled rotten and well-mannered.
The family didn’t have much money. Tammy worked as the manager of the low-rent apartment complex in Garland, and Sergio helped as the maintenance man, as well as working odd jobs. The run-down neighborhood was known for its drug dealing, prostitution, and criminal element, but Tammy was a hard worker, and she had plans to better her life and that of her family.
Those plans disappeared in the first waves of terror after she was told that Roxann was missing. When her mother called, she sobbed. “Mom, Roxann’s missing. Some man took her.”
Joyce told her daughter that she’d be there as quickly as possible. She then hung up and called her mother in Cincinnati and told her what had happened. Twelve hours later, they were in Garland, Texas; other than for gas and to run to the service station restroom, they had not stopped nor had anything to eat or drink.
When they pulled up to the apartment complex, Joyce’s mom broke down and wouldn’t get out of the car. Nor would she leave the vehicle for the next three days as she holed up, watching the entrance to the complex for Roxann to come home.
Joyce felt as if she were living a nightmare, unable to wake up or do much to comfort her crumbling daughter. Along with other family members, who had driven to Garland, and Tammy’s neighbors, they searched everywhere, every culvert, every field. They distributed flyers with the police artist’s sketch of the suspect as he’d been described by Julia Diaz: a young, white man with the brown moustache, dark hair with long bangs swept to the side, and a large mole on the right side of his face above the eyebrow.
Tammy beat herself up. “I should have never let her go out and play,” she cried over and over to her mother. “I should have watched her more carefully.” And in the cruel way of such tragedies, she and Sergio looked at each other with accusations in their eyes.
Other people said cruel things, too, or gave sideways glances that said more than words ever could have: they’d failed to protect their daughter; they weren’t fit parents. But the cruelest were the prank callers who pretended to be kidnappers.
As the FBI listened in, the first of those told Tammy to put ten thousand dollars in an envelope and deliver it where they said. “Or we’ll cut off her ear.”
Another caller went so far as to demand a ransom and arrange for the drop-off at the airport. As she’d been coaxed by the federal agents, Tammy asked, “How do we know you have her?”
“We’ll send you her finger in the mail!”
Tammy screamed and dissolved into hysterical tears. But there was hope. If Roxann had been kidnapped for a ransom then, perhaps, they’d still get her back.
On the morning of the drop-off, the FBI and local law enforcement officers sealed off the airport and flooded it with their own agents and officers. But the kidnapper never showed up, nor did some grisly token arrive in the mail.
Roxann’s kidnapper didn’t want money. He wanted something far more precious and didn’t care about the damage done when he cast this stone into a dark pond of nightmares without end.
PART II
A Case
Unlike her country-girl mother, Roxann was a little princess who liked dresses and all the traditionally “girlie” things. She was petite, even for her age, and smart; somehow both spoiled rotten and well-mannered.
The family didn’t have much money. Tammy worked as the manager of the low-rent apartment complex in Garland, and Sergio helped as the maintenance man, as well as working odd jobs. The run-down neighborhood was known for its drug dealing, prostitution, and criminal element, but Tammy was a hard worker, and she had plans to better her life and that of her family.
Those plans disappeared in the first waves of terror after she was told that Roxann was missing. When her mother called, she sobbed. “Mom, Roxann’s missing. Some man took her.”
Joyce told her daughter that she’d be there as quickly as possible. She then hung up and called her mother in Cincinnati and told her what had happened. Twelve hours later, they were in Garland, Texas; other than for gas and to run to the service station restroom, they had not stopped nor had anything to eat or drink.
When they pulled up to the apartment complex, Joyce’s mom broke down and wouldn’t get out of the car. Nor would she leave the vehicle for the next three days as she holed up, watching the entrance to the complex for Roxann to come home.
Joyce felt as if she were living a nightmare, unable to wake up or do much to comfort her crumbling daughter. Along with other family members, who had driven to Garland, and Tammy’s neighbors, they searched everywhere, every culvert, every field. They distributed flyers with the police artist’s sketch of the suspect as he’d been described by Julia Diaz: a young, white man with the brown moustache, dark hair with long bangs swept to the side, and a large mole on the right side of his face above the eyebrow.
Tammy beat herself up. “I should have never let her go out and play,” she cried over and over to her mother. “I should have watched her more carefully.” And in the cruel way of such tragedies, she and Sergio looked at each other with accusations in their eyes.
Other people said cruel things, too, or gave sideways glances that said more than words ever could have: they’d failed to protect their daughter; they weren’t fit parents. But the cruelest were the prank callers who pretended to be kidnappers.
As the FBI listened in, the first of those told Tammy to put ten thousand dollars in an envelope and deliver it where they said. “Or we’ll cut off her ear.”
Another caller went so far as to demand a ransom and arrange for the drop-off at the airport. As she’d been coaxed by the federal agents, Tammy asked, “How do we know you have her?”
“We’ll send you her finger in the mail!”
Tammy screamed and dissolved into hysterical tears. But there was hope. If Roxann had been kidnapped for a ransom then, perhaps, they’d still get her back.
On the morning of the drop-off, the FBI and local law enforcement officers sealed off the airport and flooded it with their own agents and officers. But the kidnapper never showed up, nor did some grisly token arrive in the mail.
Roxann’s kidnapper didn’t want money. He wanted something far more precious and didn’t care about the damage done when he cast this stone into a dark pond of nightmares without end.
PART II
A Case
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