And Never See Her Again (32 page)

The people of Clarksville barely knew Opal, yet the newspapers had dubbed her an Arkansas "River Valley girl. "

Arkansas became one of the first states to copy Texas's AMBER Plan child-abduction system. In 2001, even before the system had been adopted nationwide, fourteen Arkansas children were rescued, three from dangerous abductors, thanks to the early-warning plan.

Leola Sanderford moved back to Saginaw permanently. Teresa became her closest confidante. They often spoke of Opal, not with sadness but with the joy she had brought to their hearts in the few short years she had been with them.

Leola had "Opal" tattooed on her left ankle, not to remind her of her daughter, who was seldom out of her thoughts, but to show her unfading love for her.

Judy Franks returned to her parents' house in South Fort Worth, while Bessie, Ricky's mother, moved from Fort Worth to a small community less than one hundred miles west. Bessie had not only lost Ricky to the Texas prison system, but another son, Danny Doyle, had hanged himself while being held in the Bridgeport, Texas, jail.

Rodney Franks, although sympathetic to Opal's family, continued to believe in his brother's innocence. He appeared on local programming to expound upon a biased investigation and an overzealous prosecution.

Edward Jones, Leon Haley, Greg Miller, and Lisa Callahan moved on to other cases, but their thoughts often returned to Ricky Franks and the missing Opal Jennings. Only Patrick Davis remained on the case, as Franks's appellate attorney. He filed motions with the courts on Franks's behalf, but he finally exhausted all legal avenues of relief. Franks's conviction and sentence were upheld, assuring that he would serve at least thirty-five years of his life sentence.

The years since Opal's abduction and the trial of Richard Lee Franks remained in the hearts and minds of, not only those close to them, but also the millions of people who populated the Dallas/Fort Worth metroplex. With Franks behind bars for life, the people of Saginaw felt a sense of relief, but Franks's incarceration failed to erase totally their sense of insecurity. The town would never be the same.

Everyone close to Opal had learned to cope with her loss, but the question of where she was always remained.

On December 30, 2003, a Tarrant County couple rode their horses along familiar terrain one hundred yards from Western Oaks Road, near the western shore of Lake Worth. The horses walked slowly through the rural, brushy area about seven miles from Saginaw.

Talking as they enjoyed their afternoon in the brisk December air, the couple suddenly pulled their horses up short. They had spotted what appeared to be a human skull in a rugged culvert. Nearby lay a faded pink Barbie tennis shoe. They immediately notified authorities.

Additional bone fragments were found in the area and speculation ran high that the bones belonged to Opal Jennings, but authorities refused to comment.

Citizens on Patrol members constructed a roadblock at the entrance of Western Oaks Road the next day, preventing onlookers from driving down the dead-end street. A command post was set up for dozens of cadets from the Fort Worth Police Training Academy, Homicide detectives, Crime Scene officers, officials with the Tarrant County Medical Examiner's Office, and an anthropologist. The cadets, as well as cadaver-finding dogs, searched part of a 116acre city-owned tract of land.

Opal's Saginaw family waited patiently for official notification. They had waited nearly five years for word of her whereabouts; they didn't want to get their hopes up.

"If it turns out it is Opal, that would be great," Teresa Sanderford told reporters. There would be some closure for the family.

Dr. Marc Krouse, deputy chief medical examiner, announced that the remains would have to be examined and compared to DNA profiles of missing persons. Krouse indicated the process of identification could take weeks.

As the second day of the search for skeletal remains resumed, the screeching sound of chain saws blared through the tranquil countryside. Searchers pushed back thick brush and foliage to see the ground better. Although a number of various tools were used to cut through the dense undergrowth, most of the search was by hand, in the dirt. Searchers wanted to make certain that no fragment of bone, no matter how small, was overlooked or damaged during the excavation process.

The area of discovery was in the opposite direction of that pointed out by Ricky Franks during the fruitless searches he led DA investigators on. It was within the ten-mile radius of Opal Jennings's home, as FBI profilers had suggested. And it was in the area that Assistant District Attorney Greg Miller had suggested searchers probe right after Opal's disappearance.

Texas EquuSearch had returned to the North Texas area ten months earlier to probe the region again for any sign of Opal. They had concentrated their efforts in the low-lying areas of the search grid, relying on Franks's initial comments that he had put her in or near the water. Texas EquuSearch hadn't looked at the higher elevated site where the bones were found, stating they had run out of time and daylight.

It appeared no one had searched the dense area of underbrush since Opal's disappearance.

Greg Miller had talked with Tarrant County medical examiner Dr. Nizam Peerwani personally, requesting that he not make any announcements concerning the identification of the bones until he had consulted with the district attorney's office. But on January 2, 2004, Peerwani told the press that the size-thirteen tennis shoes found with the remains were the same type that six-year-old Opal was wearing when she was abducted.

"Coupled with a forensic anthropologist's estimate that the skull is of a child, five to seven years old, suggest that the bones might be Opal's," the India-born medical examiner said. "I can't speculate whether or not this is OpalJennings as of yet. We're only suspecting that. Certainly, if we do identify the remains as that of Opal Jennings, this will be a wonderful thing because it will bring a closure to the case."

The announcement was made before Miller and others in the district attorney's office had had time to decide if any further charges would be filed against Franks in the event the remains were indeed Opal's. They weren't prepared to answer questions concerning murder charges against Franks; they needed time to find evidence that tied Franks to the location or to the body. It was unlikely more charges would be filed. Considering Franks's mental disability, it was doubtful he would receive a death sentence. Franks was already serving a life sentence and it seemed a waste of the county's resources to try him for murder, even if conclusive proof was found.

A cause of death also would be needed to prove murder. Peerwani already had announced in a news conference that more bones were needed to determine how the child had died. The bones that had already been recovered were spread across an area of several hundred square yards. It was uncertain if enough bones could be found to garner a conclusive cause of death.

The scattering was not unusual, remains are frequently scattered because of scavengers or weather, human traffic or animal traffic in the area.

Opal's family just wanted the ordeal to be over. They had waited years to find Opal. If the remains were Opal's, it would be a relief after years of wondering.

"I just want it to be over with. I just want to bury her," Leola Sanderford told reporters tearfully as she was held close by Teresa.

Clay Sanderford, Opal's great-uncle, added, "There's never going to be closure. That's a word I just don't understand. I call it acceptance."

Meanwhile, the Sanderford family spent time attending holiday get-togethers at the Garden of Angels, a memorial to murdered children and young adults along the grassy roadside on Trinity Boulevard, near the Fort Worth and Euless border.

The Garden of Angels began with a single cross remembering Arlington teenager Amy Robinson, a mentally retarded girl killed by two men who were eventually sent to Texas's death row. From that single white cross eventually sprouted a two-block stand of crosses along the roadway from the original parklike setting. The area was further graced with an iron archway, a waterfall, a statue of a boy and girl playing gleefully, and concrete benches nestled among pink crape myrtle trees.

Gary Price, a Fort Worth carpenter, was known as the "Cross Man." He already had constructed one of the 3-by-4-feet white permanent crosses for Opal Jennings, and another eight for future youths taken under horrible circumstances before their time. If the bones found near Lake Worth were those of Opal Jennings, Price would paint Opal's name, date of birth, and date of death in black paint on a cross to be added to the seventy-six others already in place.

On January 12, 2004, Dr. Nizam Peerwani officially identified the remains found in the area near Lake Worth as those of Opal Jo Jennings. The Tarrant County Medical Examiner's Office had submitted a small bone fragment to the University of North Texas Health Science Center, DNA Identity Laboratory, in Fort Worth.

Texas is the only state to operate its own Missing Persons DNA Database as an additional tool for investigators trying to locate missing persons or identify remains.

The lab collected a family reference from Leola Sanderford. The mitochondrial DNA type demonstrated a likely maternal relationship between the sample from Leola and the mitochondrial DNA of the remains.

After further discussions with Dr. Peerwani, the lab was then provided with a tooth found in the skull for further DNA analysis. The DNA obtained from the tooth yielded conclusive DNA evidence, with a 99.99 percent probability that the remains were those of Opal Jennings.

Opal had been found. Finally the Sanderfords could put her to rest

A light mist gently fell on motorists' windshields as they approached the Richland Hills Church of Christ. Cars filled with friends, relatives, and even strangers filed past the uniformed officers pointing the way to designated parking. Umbrellas in black, red, blue, or green shielded mourners as they made their way to the entrance of the large, impressive church.

The Sanderford family attended a smaller Methodist church not far from the imposing Church of Christ. But with the enormous outpouring of love, concern, and support they had received over the previous four-plus years, they felt a larger venue was needed. The family expected many of the hundreds of volunteers and lawmen who had worked on the case to be present. They wanted to make certain no one who wished to say their final farewell to Opal was turned away.

Audrey, Robert, Leola, Teresa, Clay, Patricia, Duane, and dozens of other family members had stood in the rainy drizzle of the cold January gray morning only hours earlier to mourn the loss of Opal privately. They had watched as the little girl that lit up their lives was eulogized and her small casket lowered into the ground. She was gone from their vision, but she would live in their hearts forever. At the close of the service, her mother lifted her arms toward the heavens and released a single white dove.

The Saginaw Cemetery, across from the elementary school where Opal loved learning, would provide a constant connection between the little girl who loved purple markers and the school that encouraged her creativity.

At the church, flowers that adorned the front of the sanctuary were nestled around the now-familiar picture of Opal. Balloons, teddy bears, and other mementos were scattered among the blossoms. Mourners sat in silence, staring at the larger-than-life dancing eyes of Opal Jennings staring back. For nearly five years people had searched for her and prayed for her safe return, but with the discovery of her small shattered body only weeks earlier, all hope of finding her alive had been lost.

Opal appeared to mourners in the form of an enormous full-length photo prominently projected on a screen above the cloth-covered altar. Her black blouse and black-and-white-checked skirt were accented by black patent leather Mary Jane shoes and white lacetrimmed socks. It was the last photo ever taken of Opal; as usual, she was smiling from ear to ear.

Attendees wearing pink ribbons affixed with white pearl-head pins silently watched the photo as if Opal would bound through the screen and laugh at them for their sadness. Mourners read the small two-page program that bore a sketch of praying hands on the front, with the words "In Loving Memory" under them. Inside, a verse by Helen Steiner Rice spoke of going on and living life. Across from the poignant poem was the name of Opal Jo Dace Jennings and the words: Opal was born November 24, 1991, in Clarksville, Arkansas. She was abducted Friday, March 26, 1999, from her home in Saginaw, Texas, and her remains were found December 30, 2003, in Fort Worth, Texas.

The words threatened to shatter the sanctity of the moment. Then the faint sound of music drifted through the hall. Not the familiar solemn psalms of ordinary funeral services, but children's music.

"Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star," "I'm a Little TeaPot," and "My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean" played on a single piano rang through the church like a onehundred-piece orchestra. Mourners dabbed their faces with tissue as tears filled their eyes, each visualizing Opal innocently playing in the yard with her two friends Austin and Spencer.

Tributes thoughtfully placed at the altar were in Opal's favorite colors. A pink-and-purple spray, pink carnations in the form of a heart, pot plants with pink and purple bows, and a sunburst of pink gladiolas filled the church with the fragrance of spring, shutting out the harshness of winter. The familiar sound of "London Bridge" hung in the air like a thick English fog and stirred feelings of sadness.

A contingent of women of varying ages walked in and took seats in the left front section of reserved pews. Wiping their eyes as they looked at the photos of young Opal, they listened to the songs so familiar to them all. All teachers at Saginaw Elementary, the women had played games to the tunes with their schoolchildren on the playground and recalled Opal as a gleeful participant.

Nearly fifty members of Opal's extended family made their way to the front of the church, taking their seats directly in front of Opal's images. After an invocation by Reverend Grady Brittian and a moving song, "Our Texas Rose," sung by Sara Martino to the tune of "A Candle in the Wind," Teresa Sanderford steadily walked to the podium and addressed the surprisingly sparse crowd.