And Never See Her Again

Teresa could no longer sit and wait, powerless for the phone to ring with news of Opal. She wanted to take action. She wanted to be involved in helping to find her niece. She took a favorite photo of Opal from a chest and began making notes.

The picture of Opal showed her in a black cowgirl hat, a red vest with a sheriff's star on the left breast over a stripped turtleneck shirt. Her small hands clutched a black-and-white stick horse. Opal's dark brown hair rested on her narrow shoulders; her bangs covered her eyebrows and nearly obscured her bright blue eyes. Opal's trademark grin was wide and depicted a fun-loving, happy child. The photo brought tears to Teresa's eyes and the ever present question to her mind: where was Opal?

Teresa took a piece of paper and began writing:

Opal fo Jennings kidnapped about 5:30 on Friday, March 26 in Saginaw, Tx. Last seen being forced into dark purple, almost black, car, may have tan or brown top. Late model believed to be a Mercury sedan. A tall, white male with brown hair in a ponytail with facial hair.

Age: 6 Hair: Brown Eyes: Blue About 4 feet tall Weight: 60 lbs. If you've seen or have any information about Opal please call Saginaw Police ...

PATRICIA SPRINGER

Brought to you by KeVkRaY

This book is dedicated to the memory of OpalJennings, the other children who are honored in the Garden ofAngels in Euless, Texas, and the thousands of other children who have been taken from loved ones prematurely.

Six-year-old Opal Jennings crouched on her hands and knees in her grandmother's yard as she watched a colony of ants trudge through the dirt and over the occasional sprig of early-spring grass. It was 5:30 P.M., March 26, 1999. The sky was partly cloudy and the air was cool, perfect for active youngsters to be outdoors. The light easterly wind gently blew Opal's dark brown hair loosely secured in two "dog ear" ponytails. Spencer, Opal's four-year-old friend, sat beside her as Austin, her two-year-old cousin, amused himself in a nearby tree. The trio played cheerfully, free from fears and adult paranoia.

The children had just completed a make-believe sword fight, their sabers nothing more than fallen twigs from one of the large trees that bordered Robert and Audrey Sanderford's Saginaw, Texas, property. The three were imaginative children, adept at entertaining themselves for hours on end, and were great friends.

Teresa Sanderford periodically rose from her kitchen chair in the house she shared with her husband, Clay, mother, Audrey, brother-in-law and stepfather, Robert, grandson Austin, and niece Opal Jennings to peer out the window and check on the children. Seeing that they were playing happily, Teresa returned to the book she was reading while waiting for her husband to arrive home. They would all be going to dinner at Opal's favorite Mexican restaurant, El Sombrero.

While Audrey rested on the sofa, Robert Sanderford, Opal's grandfather, walked to the small porch of his modest white-framed home and yelled at the children.

"Come on back closer this way," Robert hollered. "You're going too far."

The children appeared to be getting along well and having fun. Audrey Sanderford checked on the kids as well. She smiled as she watched Opal enthralled with the march of the ants. "Opal is a budding entomologist," she often told friends. "She loves bugs."

Between the doting grandparents, there were mere minutes when the children were unattended.

Audrey took one last look at Opal, Austin, and Spencer. Assured they were contentedly occupied, she again stretched out on the family sofa to rest before leaving for dinner. Robert sat in his recliner, watching the early news. Both of them could hear the voices of the children playing no more than twenty yards away.

Lemon Street is a short street off Saginaw Boulevard, the main thoroughfare through the small-bedroom community just nine miles north of downtown Fort Worth, Texas. The city, which tongue in cheek refers to itself as a "city on the right track," has a maze of railways running through the town. Home to some of the world's largest grain elevators, many of the trains from Saginaw carry grain from the agri-business center to much of the rest of the county.

Saginaw, predominately a blue-collar community, was rapidly growing with white-collar commuters who desired urban amenities and a small-town quality of life. The more than fifteen thousand residents enjoyed the slower pace of a tight-knit community, the luxury of good schools, and a feeling of safety from the highcrime levels of the larger more metropolitan cities of Dallas and Fort Worth. Crimes such as burglaries occurred occasionally, but by 1999, only three homicides and just one family-related abduction had happened in nineteen years. The town prided itself on its relatively crime-free, family-friendly atmosphere.

One block off Saginaw Boulevard, Lemon Street crosses North Hampshire Street. Near the corner of Lemon and North Hampshire, the trees where Opal, Spencer, and Austin played lined the open area of the lot where the Sanderfords lived. The houses along North Hampshire were small and unassuming, the front yards dotted with bicycles, plastic slides, and a variety of children's toys.

A dark-colored car moved slowly down Lemon. The man behind the tinted windows watched as the three youngsters amused themselves. The car turned at the end of the road, passed a couple of teenage boys throwing a ball across the street, rounded the block, and again passed the trio of distracted children. The slow-moving vehicle made the short circuit five or six times, finally pulling to a stop at the curb in front of Opal, Spencer, and Austin.

Unaware that anyone was watching, Opal continued to direct her full attention to the march of the ants to their colony.

"Hi," an unfamiliar man said as all three children looked up to see him standing in the yard. His long dark hair was secured in a ponytail and topped with a red ball cap.

Opal turned her head and naturally smiled, her blue eyes twinkling with innocence. Before she could speak, the man swept her up in his arms and dashed for his car parked only a few feet away. Opal screamed in fear, her fists striking against his strong grasp.

The man hastily shoved Opal into the front seat of his car. Frantic, the little girl's large eyes widened as she continued to scream in a shrill expression of panic. Her arms and legs thrashed about in the air as if she were drowning in a sea of terror. Opal's abductor knotted his fist and struck the struggling girl in the chest, knocking the wind from her small frame and sending her body back against the seat.

Before Austin and Spencer could react, the dark car sped down the street, taking Opal away.

Teresa Sanderford jumped to her feet the instant she heard Austin's cry. He was wailing like she had never heard before. It wasn't the shriek normally heard when the boy, not quite two years old, was hurt or the screech that said he wasn't getting his way. Austin's cry was filled with the sound of terror.

Teresa ran to the front porch. Austin was sitting in a small flower-patterned settee that occupied much of the narrow concrete slab. He was curled on the love seat, his short legs tucked into his body, his head down. His tiny body shook as he sobbed in obvious distress. Tears flowed steadily from his blue eyes, streaking the dirt that coated his cheeks.