“Someone took my baby,” she whispered to him. “Please help me. Please, God help me.”
The officer didn’t know what to say. He cleared his throat and fought back his tears.
He walked Marsha and Erica inside the house. He sat them down on the couch and tried to comfort them as best he could. He told them the detectives were on the way and would probably have more questions for them.
They all sat together in silence, waiting for the detectives to arrive.
CHAPTER 5
Looking For Answers
I had just made it to my car when my phone started ringing. I hesitantly looked at the caller ID, which came up Restricted. Even though I didn't want to, I reluctantly answered my phone. It was one of the dispatchers, asking if I was available for a call out. I was totally exhausted and just wanted to go home.
“Is there anyone else who can take the call?” I asked in an annoyed tone.
The dispatcher paused and then said, “I think you are going to want to take this one.”
I could tell by her tone something was wrong. A nervousness came over me, as I asked what the call was about.
“A teenage girl was abducted a few minutes ago,” the dispatcher informed me.
My heart sank. I was at a loss for words. I stood there holding the phone, not saying anything.
"John?... John, are you there?"
"Yes, I'm here," I answered, still in shock.
"The officers on the scene are requesting assistance. What should I tell them?"
"Let them know I'm on my way. Text me the address, please... Also, call out Rene and her team."
“Ok John, I will let the officers know, and I will get Rene and her team heading to the location.”
After hanging up the phone, I climbed into my car and sat for a second.
I immediately called the surveillance team leader and asked if they were still watching Cook. He said yes, adding that Cook was standing in the parking lot of the motel at this very second.
I was angry at the thought of the abduction. I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t real. Maybe it was just a prank that some over concerned citizen saw and called 911 about. I knew it was wishful thinking, but I was trying to stay positive. After all, the idea that there might be two child predators in Clarksville was hard for me to believe.
◆◆◆
I arrived on the scene at about 6:15 p.m. I parked down the street and saw yellow crime scene tape stretched across it. There was a flurry of activity going on around the neighborhood. I could see several officer's speaking with neighbors. I looked around and went to the first officer I saw.
"Who was the first officer on the scene?" I asked.
The officer pointed to Officer Taylor, who was standing on the sidewalk, next to the crime scene tape.
I went to his location and asked him to brief me on what he knew. Officer Taylor gave me the rundown of what Erica saw. I looked on the sidewalk and saw a backpack and a cell phone. Near the curb, I could see broken pieces of red plastic.
"Has anyone touched anything?" I asked as I pointed towards the items.
“No, I haven’t let anyone near them,” Officer Taylor proudly answered.
“Good, don’t let anyone past this tape, except for Rene.”
“Who’s Rene?” Officer Taylor asked, with a confused look.
I forgot he was fairly new and hadn’t been involved with many big cases.
"She is the head of the CSI team. I called her out; she should be here soon."
Officer Taylor nodded his head, indicating he understood.
I made my way to Sera’s residence and knocked on the door. The officer opened it and I went inside. I saw Marsha and Erica sitting on the couch, both crying. I made my way over to them. I introduced myself and said I would be the lead investigator on the case. I asked Erica if I could speak with her in private. She agreed, and we went into the kitchen.
During our conversation, Erica told me what she witnessed. I took lots of notes and checked her cell phone for the exact time of the call between her and Sera. She described the truck as a red crew cab, unknown make or model. She didn’t have much information as to the description of the man. She said he was white and about 40 years old. From where she witnessed the abduction, she couldn’t make out any other characteristics.
“Did Sera have any enemies?” I asked.
“No, she’s very popular, and everybody likes her,” Erica answered.
“Was she having problems with anyone lately?”
“No.”
“Does Sera have a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Can you think of anyone that I should consider a suspect? A classmate? A relative? A coworker? Anyone?”
Erica pondered the question for a few seconds, finally saying, "No, not at all."
Erica told me about Sera’s hobbies and school activities. I compiled a list of classmates that Sera usually hung out with. I got Erica’s contact information and told her I would probably have more questions later on. I thanked her and arranged for her to get a ride home from one of the officers.
I walked back into the living room and spoke with Marsha. Marsha was distraught and was still quietly crying. I expressed my sadness to her and told her I was going to do my best to find Sera. I explained that it was essential for me to gather as much information as I could. I asked her if she would be willing to try to answer a few questions. Marsha nodded her head, gathered herself, and wiped her tears.
During our conversation, I learned that Sera had cross country practice every day after school from 3:15 p.m. to 5:30 p.m. When she was finished with practice, she would walk home. Marsha said the school was only a few blocks away, adding that Sera liked to walk home through the neighborhood. Sera had her driver's license, but being so close to school, she walked to save money on gas.
I questioned Marsha about Sera’s habits and friends. As far as Marsha knew, Sera didn’t have any problems, such as drugs or debts. She was very well liked and didn’t have a boyfriend. She worked at a local grocery store on the weekends and didn’t have any problems at work. Marsha and Sera were extremely close, and only the two of them lived at the house.
I then turned my line of questioning to Marsha. I asked about her relationships with men. Marsha was divorced, and Sera’s father lived in Florida. Sera and her father didn’t speak and they hadn’t seen each other for many years. Marsha dated occasionally, but she was not involved with anyone at this particular time. I asked if she used to date anyone who owned a red truck. Marsha thought deeply for a moment, then shook her head no. Marsha gave me the names of the men she recently dated. I wrote them in my notebook.
I asked Marsha if she had a drug or gambling problem. I could tell she was uneasy with my line of questioning. She told me she didn’t use drugs and didn’t like to gamble. Her tone was less than friendly. I asked Marsha several other personal questions, but none of her answers were out of the ordinary.
I always hated this part of the job. It was bad enough to see the pain and hurt in the victim’s eyes, but to have to question them like a suspect, made it worse. I never liked asking personal questions about people’s private lives, but it was necessary. The slightest little detail could trigger a lead, which might end up solving the case. I always tried to be gentle with my line of questioning. I didn’t want the innocent to feel guilty and suddenly become standoffish. I explained this to Marsha, and thankfully she understood.
I asked Marsha if I could see Sera's room. Marsha took me to the room and opened the door. I explained that I just wanted to look around and see if anything might help. Marsha understood and asked if I wanted her to wait with me. I told her no and suggested she go back to the living room.
I wandered around Sera's room, looking for answers. The room looked like it belonged to a typical 16-year-old girl. There were pictures of Sera and her friends, made into colorful collages. There were posters of shirtless, buff, heartthrobs and cute little puppy dogs, hanging on the walls. On top of her dresser,
I saw jewelry and perfume. Next to them were a couple of crumpled pieces of paper.
I made my way over and opened them up. They were ATM receipts. I looked at the time stamps, noting that most of them were around midnight. Seems a little late for a teenager to be using the ATM, I thought to myself.
I continued surveying the room.
There was a vanity in the corner with makeup and hair products on it. There was a small number of dirty clothes on the floor, with several shoes scattered around. On her nightstand was a laptop computer. It was flipped open, and I ran my finger across the mouse pad sensor. The monitor came to life, and the home page appeared.
I saw several icons for social media accounts, such as Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat and Facebook. Teenagers just can't seem to live without social media, I thought to myself. I clicked on her email icon and reviewed a few messages. Everything seemed normal, just typical messages for a 16-year-old.
I clicked on the chrome icon and went to the search history. There was nothing there; she had obviously erased it. It concerned me a little and made me wonder. Was she trying to hide something? Or was deleting the history after each session merely a habit of hers?
I searched her room and took notes on other items I found. I photographed the room, including the windows and the clothing in the closet. Before leaving the room, I gathered the laptop and power cord. I slowly made my way back to the living room.
“Would you mind if I took Sera’s laptop for a few days?” I asked.
“Why do you want her laptop?” she quickly responded.
"I want to check some of her social media accounts. That way I can see who she has been talking with. This day in age you can never be too certain who you are actually talking with online."
Marsha consented.
I told her I would return it in a few days. I explained that if Sera called, or if anyone called about her, to get a hold of me immediately. Marsha nodded her head and said she understood. I told her I was going to be outside for a while and if she needed anything to just holler at me. Marsha thanked me and gave me a tight hug.
When she finished the hug, she let go but didn't step away. She looked into my eyes. I could see her sadness. Her eyes seemed to be begging me for help. With tears rolling down her cheeks, she held my hand.
“Detective, please find my daughter. She is all I have.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I tried not to show my emotions, but as a father, I couldn't help it. I could only imagine what she was going through. The look on Marsha's face was one I knew I would never forget.
With a heavy heart, I opened my mouth to speak.
“I promise you I will find Sera. Whoever took her, is going to pay.”
Marsha smiled at me, as tears slid down her cheeks. I smiled back and then left the house.
Once outside, I walked back to the crime scene. I met with CSI Rene Jones. Rene had been on the job for about ten years and was damn good at her craft. I briefed Rene on what I knew at this point. Then I asked her what she had found.
Rene was almost finished with the scene. She gave me a list of what she had completed. I checked the list and noted she had swabbed the backpack for DNA, swabbed the cell phone for DNA, and collected both items for evidence. She had photographed the tire tracks, where the truck had spun-out.
She was in the process of collecting and photographing the red pieces of plastic. I asked Rene what they were. According to her, they appeared to pieces of a broken taillight cover. Her theory was that the taillight cover had gotten broken during the struggle between the man and Sera.
Rene examined each piece. She pointed at the bottom of one piece, telling me to look at it. I noted there were a few letters and numbers and a Chevrolet emblem stamped on the plastic. She placed the plastic pieces into an evidence bag. I told Rene to call me if she found anything else.
I walked over to the group of officers that had spoken to the neighboring residents. I asked them what they had learned. All of the neighbors had been interviewed and not one of them saw or heard anything. And to top things off, none of the houses were equipped with surveillance cameras.
For the remainder of the night, the officers and I conducted searches of the surrounding area. We looked for any signs of evidence. Nearby businesses were contacted, in the hopes that the man in the red truck might have stopped by. After hours of leg work, there was nothing to show for it. The morning sun was now up and we weren't any closer to finding Sera.
Shortly after the abduction had occurred, an Amber Alert was issued for Sera. It was broadcast nationwide, providing what little details we had. The call center at the department had been flooded with calls all night. The volunteers answering the phones were overwhelmed.
They had documented several hundred potential sightings. I assigned officers and detectives to follow up on them. Some of the leads looked promising, but after hours of weeding through them, we still had nothing.
It was late afternoon by the time Rene called me. I prayed for good news, but there wasn’t much. The backpack and the phone only had one DNA profile on it. The profile was compared to the DNA profile extracted from a hair follicle found in Sera’s hairbrush. It was an exact match; it was Sera’s DNA.
As for the plastic pieces, the news was slightly better. The pieces were confirmed to be from a taillight cover. Because of the markings found on them, Rene was able to determine the cover was from a Chevrolet Silverado truck, between the years 2012 and 2013. Rene sent Sera’s laptop and cell phone off to a forensic analyst to have it examined. The examination could take days, if not weeks. Sera didn’t have that kind of time, and I didn’t know what to do. I knew I couldn’t stand idle, but all I had to go on was the red Chevy truck.
I spent several hours going over vehicle contacts in the department's database. I located over 500 contacts involving 2012-2013 red Chevy trucks. With so many contacts, I split up the registration printouts. I instructed everyone to check the registered addresses, specifically looking for a broken tail light cover.
Over the next day and a half, we went to all the residences listed on the printouts. The local ones were easy. As for the out of town addresses, we had to ask for help. We contacted the law enforcement agencies in each respective town and had them check for us. In the end, some of the owners had sold their trucks, others had traded them in. After the entire list was checked out, not a single one was found to have a broken or cracked taillight.
The reality of not developing a lead was disappointing. Frustration and exhaustion had set in on all of the officers, including myself. It had been 72 hours since any of us had slept. We had been going non-stop since the abduction and we all looked and felt like shit.
Since everyone was so tired, I sent them home to get a few hours of sleep.
I was tired as well, having a hard time thinking straight. My eyes were burning, and they were as dry as sand. I rubbed them vigorously and blinked numerous times trying to bring the moisture back to them. It didn’t work. In fact, I think it made it worse. Maybe some fresh air will help, I thought to myself. I decided it couldn’t hurt and I headed for the back door.
I made my way outside; the fresh air smacked my face. It helped for a second but didn't last. I went over to the picnic table, located in the back lot of the department. It sat on a small patch of grass, surrounded by a couple of medium sized fruit trees. The benches and table were covered in dust, a sign of just how little they got used. I brushed off the seat on one of the benches and sat down.
My legs felt like heavy anchors, and my shoulders were tight. I lit a cigarette and ran my hands through my hair. I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to ease some of my tension. I sat there on the verge of delirium, just trying to function. I was at the point where my mind was going all over the place. I could hardly make any sense to myself.
I took a deep breath, tilting my head to stretch my neck. How could I take a break and sleep, knowing that Sera was out there somewhere? She was alone and scared. Every second I di
dn’t find her, the chances of finding her alive decreased.
I took a drag of my cigarette. The smoke filled my lungs. I felt a mild burn, and a pleasurable sensation came over me. I sat there and tried to go over the investigation in my mind, but it was useless. I couldn’t concentrate, and I was getting mad.
I looked at my watch, 7:30 p.m. I made the decisions to get a few hours of sleep. I knew I needed it and hopefully, it would help with my level of concentration. I made my way back inside the department and went to my office. I pulled out a cot from behind the door. I kept it there for situations just like this.
I closed the door and turned on some soft piano music. I needed background noise when I wanted to sleep. If I laid there in silence, my mind would betray me with haunting thoughts and images.
I took off my shoes, my feet immediately thanked me. They were sore and clammy and definitely needed to air out. I folded up my jacket into a makeshift pillow. I turned out the light and laid down on the cot. It was usually as hard as a rock, but right now it felt amazing. Getting off of my feet and stretching out, was exactly what I needed.
I laid there thinking about Sera. Wondering what she had been subjected to over the last three days. The thought scared me. I thought about the case from 18 years ago, what I found in Cook’s backpack. I prayed to God that nothing like that was happening to Sera.
As quickly as I thought about Sera, I also thought about Marsha. I kept seeing visions of Marsha’s face. The look she had given me, was haunting.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I tried to kick the evil thoughts out of my head. Easier said than done. After battling demons for a few minutes, I managed to fall asleep.
CHAPTER 6
My Own Epiphany
I slowly crept along the outside wall of the house, my senses on high alert. The darkness surrounded me, as the cold set in. I made my way towards the back door. I saw that it was open and the window was shattered. I paused for a moment to gather myself, before making entry. I listened intently trying to figure out where the suspect was at inside. I mustered up my courage, took a deep breath and then went in.
Searching for Sera Page 6