And Never See Her Again (3 page)

Clay put his arms around Teresa to comfort her.

"I just don't understand," Teresa said, allowing tears to come to her eyes for the first time. "One minute she was out there playing with Spencer and Austin, and then she was gone."

It was an atypical day for Investigator Danny McCormick. He was on his way home at four o'clock in the afternoon. More often than not he was late getting to the residence he shared with his wife, Paige, but Paige understood. A prosecutor in the Denton County District Attorney's Office, Paige too often arrived at their house well after nine-to-five workers were watching the evening news or in their kitchen preparing dinners. The McCormicks had accepted the unstructured hours of working in law enforcement long before they married.

McCormick had deliberately set his March 26 schedule to be out of downtown Fort Worth and well past Texas Motor Speedway before 5:00 P.M. It was the weekend of one of the biggest NASCAR races of the season. Nearly three hundred thousand people were expected to converge on the raceway north of Fort Worth's city limits on 1-35. There would be 150,000 people in the stadium seats that rose high above the Texas plains; VIP campers would be parked in the infield, and other fans in designated camping areas adjacent to the stadium. A chosen few would be partying in one of the 194 luxury VIP skybox suites that looked down on the 1.51-mile quad-oval track.

One hundred thousand vehicles would be clogging up the roads, causing a number of challenges to working commuters. Danny McCormick didn't want to be one of those trapped for hours in raceway traffic. For all his forethought, McCormick had no way of knowing his stay at his North Texas residence that night wouldn't be for long.

Shortly after hanging his Stetson hat on an entry hook and sitting down in the living room, McCormick received a call between 5:30 and 6:00 P.M., informing him a six-year-old girl had apparently been abducted in front of her Saginaw home. As a member of the Tarrant County District Attorney's Special Crimes Unit, Investigator McCormick was instructed to make his way back to the Special Crimes office immediately. The traffic lie had earlier avoided would be gridlocked by the time he was back on the highway headed south toward Fort Worth.

At 6:57 P.M., while en route, McCormick heard the disturbing, yet eerily familiar sound of the AMBER Alert. Three shrill blasts, then a radio announcer's voice declaring the frightening news that another North Texas youngster had been abducted. The child was Opal Jennings, of Saginaw.

McCormick listened carefully as the radio announcer described the suspect as a white male, forty to fifty years old, wrinkled face, long brown hair in a ponytail, and wearing a red baseball cap. The car was depicted as a dark purple or black two-door sedan, possibly a Mercury Cougar, with tinted windows, chrome wheels, antenna on the back of the car, and the front of the car set higher than the back. The abducted child was named Opal Jo Jennings, six years old, approximately sixty pounds, about four feet tall, her brown hair possibly in two pigtails. The announcer instructed anyone who had information on the suspect, the vehicle, or Opal Jennings to contact the Saginaw Police Department immediately.

The AMBER Alert concept had initiated in Arlington, Texas, after the January 1996 abduction of nineyear-old Amber Hagerman. Amber had been riding her bicycle when a neighbor heard her scream. The neighbor watched helplessly as a man pulled Amber from her bike, threw her in the front seat of his black pickup truck, and sped away. The neighbor urgently called police and gave a description of the vehicle and the long-haired driver. The local news stations covered the story on their regular broadcasts. Four days later, Amber's body was found in a drainage ditch, four miles from her home. Her throat had been cut. Her kidnapping and murder remain unsolved.

After hearing of Amber's abduction, a concerned citizen contacted a Dallas radio station suggesting that they and other area radio stations repeat news bulletins about abducted children just like they did with severe weather warnings. Local station managers agreed such a program would provide an important public service that might help save the lives of children and the AMBER Alert was born.

The Dallas/Fort Worth AMBER Alert plan commenced in 1997. Since that time, a number of cities, states, and regions have adopted the plan. Most North Texas law personnel were aware of the AMBER Alert and the criteria for which it was to be enacted. The child had to be seventeen or younger; the child was unwillingly taken from their environment without the permission of the child's parent or legal guardian; law enforcement personnel believed the child was in danger of serious bodily harm or death; and there was enough descriptive information about the child, the abductor, or the suspect's vehicle to make a broadcast alert to the public helpful.

As McCormick listened to the broadcast concerning the disappearance of Opal Jennings, he was aware that time was of the essence. The AMBER Alert first went out locally in the Dallas/Fort Worth area, then statewide, and within hours it had been nationally broadcast.

Frustratingly McCormick moved at a snail's pace along the crowded highway, back past the speedway, toward his downtown Fort Worth office. The Special Crimes Unit was located on Belknap Street, near the heart of the city. It was 8:00 P.M. before McCormick met with Assistant Chief Mike Adair and other members of the team to go over their individual responsibilities.

The Special Crimes Unit joined the thirty-five sworn officers of the Saginaw Police Department who had begun the initial investigation. The Fort Worth Bureau of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and other local agencies joined in to form a multiagency task force.

Each officer, investigator, agent, and assistant district attorney (ADA) knew that time was critical. If Opal had been grabbed by a stranger, she was in immediate danger. They knew all too well the gruesome statistics. If they didn't find Opal soon, she could be gone forever.

Television trucks with tall antenna reaching upward toward the low-hanging dark clouds above North Hampshire Street in Saginaw provided technical support for the camera persons and reporters that scattered across the Sanderford lawn. Opal's photo flashed on the television screens of more than a million metroplex viewers watching the four local ten o'clock newscasts.

But while people sat in their warm living rooms or snuggled in their beds with only the illumination of the television screen delaying their sleep, Opal Jennings's whereabouts were still unknown.

Teresa Sanderford wrung her hands and paced the floor, often sidestepping other family members, who mirrored her actions. A haze of smoke hung just above their heads like an early-morning fog on nearby Eagle Mountain Lake as one cigarette after another was lit in an effort to calm their nerves. The interior haze provided a ghostly ambience to an already fearful household. Tears were kept at bay, but remained just below the surface, threatening to erupt whenever a prayer for Opal's safe return was uttered out loud.

Audrey Sanderford, Opal's stepgrandmother, rested when she could. Audrey had assumed the task of dealing with the media. Robert, a soft-spoken, timid man, and not only Opal's grandfather but also her legal guardian, had gratefully left the public family presence to his wife. But the stress of Opal's disappearance, combined with answering questions from the massive media contingent, had taken its toll on Audrey's physical strength, as well as her emotional stamina.

Opal had been gone for only a few hours, but it seemed like an eternity. Each time the phone rang, family members jumped and rushed eagerly to answer the call, hoping for the best, dreading the unthinkable.

At 2:00 A.M., the Sanderford family was seated in the Saginaw Police Station, awaiting their turns to be questioned by Detective Neal. Teresa, Audrey, Robert, and Clay all gave statements to the facts of Opal's disappearance as they knew them. Each was fingerprinted.

Detective Neal had no doubt as to the real anguish, the obvious distress each of the Sanderfords was experiencing. But he had to question everyone, eliminate them as suspects, or continue to probe into their lives.

Two important people were missing from the interview: Opal's father, Randy Crawford, and her mother, Leola Sanderford. Neal learned that Crawford was living in Arkansas and Leola in North Dakota. He made a note to bring Crawford to Texas as soon as possible for questioning. Perhaps this was a relative abduction. It could be possible that Crawford, learning that his daughter had been sent to live with her grandparents, had become disturbed by the situation and picked Opal up. If lucky, Opal Jennings was in the neighboring state with her father, not in the clutches of a possible pedophile.

After the Sanderford family had left the station, Detective Neal made the calls to Arkansas and North Dakota. Unable to reach Leola Sanderford, Neal got in touch with the sheriff's office in her area and told them of the situation in Texas. They promised to get word to Leola that she needed to call her Texas family as soon as possible.

Leola "Lee" Sanderford was working the night shift at the Midtowner restaurant and lounge in Mandan, North Dakota. She hadn't talked to Opal in several weeks, the last time when she was able to scrape together enough money to buy a longdistance telephone card. Leola missed her oldest daughter and had hoped she would be able to join her shortly. But monetary difficulties, family problems, and a younger daughter at home had delayed Leola joining Opal in Texas, or having her daughter return to North Dakota.

When Leola was notified that she must contact her Texas family as soon as possible, she was frantic. Her first thoughts were of her daughter. Was Opal hurt? Was she okay? She called the Sanderford house in Saginaw as soon as she could.

Leola's heart ached as she digested the news that Opal had been snatched by a stranger and there was no clue as to her whereabouts. She sobbed for her child, and for her inability to be in Texas searching for Opal herself.

"I don't have enough money to get there now," Leola told her father. Her voice was faint, gripped by fear. "I want to come down, but I have to face my problems up here first."

Robert and Audrey were in no position to help Leola get to Texas, they got by on their meager incomes but couldn't offer any help in getting Leola home. Robert promised to keep his daughter informed of the progress of the search and advised his youngest daughter "to pray."

The morning after Opal's abduction, Audrey rose, took a cup of coffee in hand, and walked to the porch. She peered helplessly out at the spot where her granddaughter was last seen. She took in a quick breath and stared at the tree where she had last seen Opal playing.

Tied to outreached branches were yellow ribbons, their streamers softly caressed by the morning breeze. The trunk of the old tree was embraced by pink rabbits, brown bears, and cuddly white kittens, tokens of people's need to remember a lost little girl, expressions of hope that Opal would soon return. Tears burned Audrey's eyes. Everyone was being so support ive, so caring, but all she wanted was to see Opal's blue eyes dance with the excitement Audrey knew Opal would feel if she saw the stuffed animals. Just as she had done, time and again for the past terrifying hours, Audrey said a prayer for Opal to be found safe.

Along with the expressions of faith placed by the Sanderfords' tree, friends, family, and even strangers began to assemble on the lawn. They had come to help in the only way they knew how. They wanted to help find Opal. The volunteers were willing to do anything-march through mud, man phones, or cruise neighborhoods-but Nancy Wright, the SPD lieutenant directing the investigation, declined.

"We have to be able to know what's going on in order to coordinate this investigation," Wright told the media. "It's not like we're trying to run this on our own. We know our resources are limited. Right now, we're employing the best strategy we think is needed for this case."

Wright was fully aware that although volunteers can be helpful, using too many or bringing them in at the wrong time could actually impede the investigation. Police officers could easily lose command of a crime scene and untrained volunteers could inadvertently destroy evidence. The Saginaw Police Department, which had twenty-two members, including administrative staff, officers, and detectives, had few resources available to monitor outside help.

Wright's decision frustrated volunteers, who felt shut out by the police. After all, the community needed to feel useful, helpful in some way. But Wright's first duty was to preserve the scene and take command, so bright yellow police tape cordoned off the Sanderfords' home from even the closest family and friends.

Teresa walked slowly down the hall of the small house and stopped in front of Opal's room. She wouldn't find comfort in holding on to any of Opal's stuffed animals or touching the hems of any of her clothing. The room had been sealed, a desolate reminder of the family's nightmarish loss.

Audrey sat in the warmth of her living room, staring at sheets of paper covered with the simple math problems that Opal had been working on. At the top of each one, scrawled in big purple marker, was the name "Opal."

Outside, the chill winds whistled. Both Teresa and Audrey feared that Opal was cold in her little purple shorts and purple-and-white T-shirt, the same clothes she had worn to participate in a Saginaw Elementary "Fun Run" earlier the previous day. Purple and pink were Opal's favorite colors, and her Barbie tennis shoes would provide little warmth against the cold rain that saturated the ground and dampened their hopes.

The family tried to remain positive, but the longer Opal was gone, the more they worried. The frustration at being able to do nothing more than wait had already begun to take its toll. Exhaustion was setting in, but sleep was nearly impossible. The image of Opal smiling, running, laughing, playing, continued to fill the minds of all who loved her. Worry marred their faces.

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.