When Lissa became an addict, everything she loved turned to water in her hands, and everything she lost—that slipped through her grasp—she believed she deserved to lose.
After she fled Minneapolis and ended up in Portland, she got sober, and after she returned to Minneapolis, she reclaimed her children, but not in the way she had planned. Willard Yellow Bird died that September, in 1997. The day before his funeral, Irene insisted Lissa take Shauna and CJ for the day so Irene could focus on her father’s arrangements. Lissa took her kids but did not bring them back. When weeks passed and Lissa still did not return, Irene reported her for taking them.
Lissa had enrolled them in school in St. Paul. One afternoon, she went to pick them up, and they did not emerge from the building. She was still waiting when a social worker called to inform her that Shauna and CJ had been detained by Child Protection. Police arrested Lissa on the sidewalk, threw her on the concrete, and pulled so hard on her hair that her neck cracked, she would recall. They let her out of jail that night, after her kids were gone. She wandered downtown, where a man drove up beside her and offered a ride in exchange for sex. Lissa agreed on the condition that he take her to a dope house first. When they came to the house, Lissa ran inside and never saw the man again.
She was pregnant. She and OJ were back together, and the next July, she gave birth to their child, Obie. OJ came and went. Lissa became pregnant again, but this time the father was not OJ.
When she relapsed in 1999, she would not remember when or how it happened. It was OJ who would later say how he had shown her his stash in the hopes that she would relapse. When Lissa was sober, she intimidated OJ. He found he loved her even more, but he could not control her.
On the evening of December 22, 1999, Lissa stopped at a friend’s house, bought some crack, and got high. Obie was seventeen months old. Micah had been born just that summer. OJ was home with the kids that night, and Lissa had left her phone in the car because, as she would later explain, she “didn’t want to hear him calling all the time.”
The story Lissa would tell of that night would match the police reports and court records. She had returned to the car in the early morning and listened to her messages: If she didn’t come home soon, OJ said, he would murder the kids. “I was hysterical,” Lissa would recall. “I drove up to the building. When I went in the first door, there were people in the hallway. They were like, ‘Don’t go up there, something’s happening.’ I pushed past them. I opened the door. I said, ‘Where are my babies?’ OJ was standing there. He hit me with a bat.”
By the time the ambulance arrived, Lissa’s body was cut and bruised, her wrist broken, the bone showing through, her left eye swollen shut. She was unconscious, so what else she knew of that night came from interviews police conducted with Shauna. Her daughter would say that it was the sight of her mother after the attack that shook her more than anything—her face so disfigured, Shauna could not bear to look at her—but during the beating Shauna had remained calm. Later, in court, a prosecutor would note how serenely Shauna described the scene to police. At 3:45 A.M., she had risen from bed, walked to the kitchen, and found OJ with a fistful of her mother’s hair, striking her limp face with his knee. For a moment, Shauna watched as CJ threw his body between OJ and their mother. Then she called to CJ, whom she told to dial 911. He handed her the phone.
And this was the remarkable thing, the prosecutor said: how coolly Shauna told the dispatcher, “My stepdad is trying to kill my mother,” and when the dispatcher had not understood, how Shauna said it again.
My stepdad is trying to kill my mother.
The words were the clearest memory Lissa had of that night, though they were not her memory; she could not have heard them; and it was after the court hearing that she claimed them as memory, as vivid as if she had heard them herself.
OJ pled guilty and was sentenced to thirty-three months in prison. Lissa spent two days in the hospital and rejoined her kids at the apartment. Later, she would say that the winter and spring were when things really fell apart. She stopped paying rent. She was evicted. She went on smoking crack. She had loved OJ. She had let herself be hurt by him, again and again, and in the end, he had stolen from her the choice to take him back. “Kill me. You don’t have the balls!” she had screamed at him in the minutes before she lost consciousness. She had been ready to die, and when she survived, she had wondered why she was still alive.
It was Shauna who changed the most after that—who drifted from her mother—so it had not surprised Lissa when, one morning, Shauna disappeared. Lissa did not hear the hotel room door when it opened or closed, but when Lissa woke, she knew her daughter was gone.
* * *
—
ON THE NIGHT of June 14, 2013, Lissa sat in the kitchen, her sons gone out, and composed a message to Shauna:
You know I was thinking about what you said regarding the time I spend looking for all these “Missing People.” I didn’t know what to say that day and I didn’t want to say anything I didn’t mean. But now that the words have revealed themselves to me here is what I have to say. When you were a teenager and that day you left the hotel, I knew already in my heart why you left. I knew it was a result of my addiction. I knew that I was unable to help myself let alone try and track you down and bring you back to the misery and despair I created for you. I have apologized and I also knew that the words “sorry” would never be enough to compensate for the wrongs I have done to you as a result of my addictions. You ask why I didn’t look for you? I’ll tell you at first I couldn’t bring myself to believe that I had lost my daughter because I fully chose drugs over you. Even though I couldn’t help it. I was gone inside. I pretty much knew you were with friends. I felt you were safe in my heart. Call it intuition if you will. Insight. Whatever. Even though I was emotionally and spiritually bankrupt at the time I always felt you were ok. I hoped and prayed you were. I didn’t see the point of coming after you and bringing you back into my world of chaos, immorality, and despair. The shame I harbored, the sick emptiness in my gut knowing that I had lost you emotionally and at that time physically. Our relationship has never been the same since that day. Until that day you were MINE. My treasure my baby my everything. I had realized that I had pushed you so far away that you would never come back the same person and I hated myself for that. I have known you never trusted me since that day and you have always looked at me with a sense of hate in the background of your mind. I tried to change my life and SHOW you my love and it seems it hasn’t helped the hostility within you every time you think of my name. The way I look for KC…IS the way I would have looked for you if I was sane and drug free. I’m sorry I was not that person for you back then. I am now. I am drug/alcohol free and I try to live right. These things I do, I do for you. This is how I would have done for you. I keep doing them to show you my persistence and my love and that I will never give up again. I will never make myself vulnerable enough to not wanna fight back. This is my explanation. I hope this helps you to move forward. I am proud of all you do to help others. I would hope that it is a little reflection of me. Maybe not, but someday. Remember Shauna…I love you! Every time I am out there looking for others helping others I’m thinking of you too. You were the real inspiration. Love MOM
Shauna did not reply, and Lissa did not write her again. After that, Lissa tried not to think of her daughter too often, as doing so filled her body with emptiness.
For Shauna, the feeling was different. Shortly after she moved to Minneapolis, she bought her first home, a condominium in a quiet, wooded suburb south of the city. She felt relieved. She decided she would no longer expect anything from her mother. She would not speak to her, and in this silence, there would be less to remind her of their past.
She had read the letter once, and quickly. She had been too angry to give it much thought, and, anyway, it made little sense to her. “I more or less was like, Not only did you not c
are when I ran away then, but you’re completely ignoring me now,” Shauna said. That she had inspired her mother sounded too convenient, and it angered Shauna that Lissa rationalized her obsession in this way: “It’s easier to accept guilt for what you’ve done than admit to it. By accepting that guilt internally and trying to change your life around so that others on the outside can see a change, you’re still not making those amends where that hurt was done. You know, you murder somebody, you feel bad about it, and next thing you know you become an advocate out in the real world, but what about that family you took from? It’s two different things, to accept the guilt and to admit it. She wasn’t able to admit to the guilt. She wasn’t willing to repair what she broke. She was just trying to fix it in other places, through other people, but she failed to fix the one thing that she broke. I didn’t care how many other people’s lives she was trying to fix. It’s still broken here.”
9
Sarah
IN THE MONTHS LEADING UP to Shauna’s departure for Minneapolis, Lissa settled more deeply into her investigation. She had achieved a significant breakthrough: In March 2013, a week after Lissa and Percy mailed the flyers, Tex had canceled his partnership with James.
The flyers were indeed, as Percy described, everywhere: taped to the windows of reservation stores, tacked to telephone poles and to the bulletin boards that hung in post offices and schools. Lissa could not say with certainty what effect the flyers had, but the timing of Maheshu’s and Blackstone’s separation struck her as more than a coincidence. A week after Tex ended the partnership, Lissa received an email from Brian Baker, the man who had defended James and Sarah on Facebook, with whom she previously engaged as “Nadia Reinardy.” Brian had visited the website Percy stamped on all the flyers and wanted to know who was behind it. He had asked Jill, who said honestly that she didn’t know. She wasn’t “bold” enough to make a website like that, but Lissa was. It was Lissa, Jill told Brian, who composed many of the comments posted on the Facebook page. Brian forwarded his exchange with Jill to Lissa.
In fact, Lissa had been in touch with Brian since mid-February, not long after she and Jill stopped talking. “An acquaintance of mine”—Nadia Reinardy—“said you knew some things about the KC ordeal and that your ok to talk to…is this true?” she had written him. Her overture was strategic. It occurred to Lissa that her distance from Jill presented an opportunity to align herself with someone else, and so she had expressed to Brian sympathies for James and Sarah. When Brian forwarded her Jill’s emails accusing Lissa of publishing the website, Lissa denied responsibility. She explained to Brian that Jill had blocked her from the page due to their disagreement. On March 15, the day after Brian forwarded the emails, Lissa composed one to Sarah Creveling:
I know I’m probably the last person you would ever want to hear from, but this is Lissa and I would like to firstly say, that I’m sorry for jumping on the bandwagon with the others on the KC page and made some harsh comments about you when I didn’t even know both sides of the story. I sincerely would like to apologize to you and in making amends I truly would like to hear your side of the story so that I can set the record straight. My goal is to find KC. If you are interested, I believe I can help you also get the TRUTH out there instead of all this drama. I can’t even imagine how you are feeling. I think we can help each other out. I understand if you don’t feel too much trust in answering but I thought I would give it a try. Keep your chin up, cause this too, shall pass! ;)
Two mornings later, Sarah replied:
Hi Lissa,
I can’t say how much I really appreciate you contacting me and apologizing for some of the things you’ve said….First off I know many people have quite the opinion about my husband and I and I know his past record sure doesn’t help. But the hardest thing for me is that I DON’T have a record! I have a speeding ticket, and people are just dragging us through the mud. It is hard to wake up every morning and check the page to see what terrible things have been said about me today….I tried reaching out to Jill many times, she never gave us the time a day and then turned around and hurt us. We have feelings to, we care about KC! I think about him everyday, and just think if only he would come back and set everyone straight.
I understand its human nature to want to put blame on something or someone. But…Some days I barely hold it together. I worry a lot that someone is going to show up at the house and hurt me. There are a lot of crazy’s out there. I just wish people would ask me questions or come to me before they jump to conclusions.
Sorry if I am writing a lot. Your just one of the few to actually ask me questions. I’m more than happy to talk to anyone about this, just no one seems to care. North Dakota is my home now, I have very few friends and family here, and now I hardly feel welcome.
Thanks again for taking the time to listen Lissa.
Thanks
Sarah
Lissa knew little about Sarah. In the photographs Jed had chosen for the flyer, she had blond hair, straight and dyed; small, shiny eyes; and bright white teeth. She was thin, athletic, dressed in sports tops and jeans. The Blackstone drivers Lissa spoke to had all mentioned how pretty she was, but beyond this, none seemed very fond of Sarah.
It was true she had no criminal record. The most incriminating thing Lissa could summon about her was the story KC’s grandfather told—how Sarah had cried to him on the phone and then hung up. The bawling hysterics, I mean, not laughing. A week after Robert Clarke died, Lissa had opened KC’s Blackstone email account by guessing his password and written to Sarah from his old address. “Surprise!” she had titled the email:
Doesn’t it bother you that my family is suffering over what you and James have done? have you no conscience? you and james run around acting like nothing has happened….you can pacify yourself with money for now but eventually you will lose everything. you think james is going down alone?….if he doesn’t kill you first…you’ll see. and you’ll be chased off the rez….my grandpa took his own life last week because of what you and james have done. there is one more soul lying on your shoulders but he is with me and you can’t touch us here…that phone call you got from rob when you went into hysterics and started crying and going crazy tells me you had somewhat of a conscience back then. hopefully you are able to clear it before its too late.
Lissa spoke on the phone to Sarah for the first time at the end of March. Sarah was polite, to the point. She shared her side of the story—that she cared about KC, that she tried to help Jill until Jill attacked her and James—and Lissa told Sarah about her falling out with Jill, though she did not offer details. It soon became clear to Lissa that Sarah was distressed and that the reason for her distress was the flyer. Sarah first heard about the flyer from acquaintances who received it via fax, before receiving her own fax at the Maheshu office. Sarah asked if Lissa knew who was behind the flyer. Lissa told Sarah she did not know but offered to help find out.
Lissa suggested Sarah begin by looking up the fax number she received the flyer from and tracing it to its origin. The number, it turned out, belonged to a veterinary clinic in New Town. This confused Sarah more. She had never been to that vet, she told Lissa, nor did she know anyone who worked there.
“I’m scared for you!” Lissa texted in reply. “Did you call the vet? Want me to?”
If Lissa didn’t mind, Sarah said. “I think thousands of faxes and letters have been sent now. People are calling and texting me from everywhere.” Sarah had been studying one of the flyers that she had received in the mail. It was “nice glossy thick paper, expensive,” she wrote. It looked professionally done. She wondered if she called around to print shops in the region, she might identify the one that processed the order.
“And what if it was done online?” Lissa replied. She suggested Sarah check the postmark on the flyers.
The flyers appeared to have been sent from Bismarck. Mailing them from Dickinson, Lissa now
privately realized, had made no difference. She advised Sarah to mail herself a letter from Watford City to the Blackstone PO box in Minot. That way, Sarah would be able to confirm that all letters distributed to that part of the state were routed through the capital. Sarah did as Lissa advised.
A week later, Sarah drove to Minot and checked the Blackstone mailbox. The letter she had sent herself was there—postmarked in Bismarck, she told Lissa, which meant it would be difficult to trace the flyers to their origins. What was worse, Sarah had opened her mailbox to find it stuffed with hundreds of undeliverable flyers, many addressed to towns she had never heard of. “Makes me nervous now that everyone knows what I look like,” she texted Lissa. “That’s like literally half the state that has received them. This is a ton of money spent.”
Sarah was becoming more distraught. The morning after she went to Minot, Lissa texted, “Wake up! Because today is a great day and its gonna be better than yesterday!” It was late March, Easter weekend. Sarah was in Washington visiting family. She was close with her parents, she told Lissa, and thankful to leave the oil fields for a while. But some nights later, she called Lissa, upset again. Jill was attacking Sarah on Facebook.
Lissa had recommended that Sarah stop reading the page. “I know it must be hard,” she wrote one day, “but try to keep your own sanity. What does your husband think of Jill’s rants?”
“He’s learned to ignore them,” Sarah replied. “Says if she really wanted our help she would reach out to us, since she put us in the bad light. He tells me not to look on that page.”
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