Missing Without A Trace (14 page)

Tanya found it much easier to rest at home compared to the hospital, where loud nurses, medication, and other intrusions might interrupt her sleep at any time of night. She was also free of bedpans, hospital smells, the lack of privacy, and the loss of control. But the cycle of sleep-paindressing change, sleep-pain-dressing change, sleep-pain-dressing change, which had droned on like a broken record throughout her hospital stay, was not over.

Tanya still had open wounds that needed twice daily cleansing and dressing changes. Early every morning, before he left for work, Tom woke Tanya and changed her dressings. It was hard for him. Some of Tanya’s wounds were deep—to the bone—and Tom couldn’t get used to looking into them. After awhile, though, this became a natural part of his routine and, in time, Tanya took charge of changing her own dressings.

A month later, when Tom took Tanya into the Rehab Clinic for an appointment, she was struggling. Although she was making steady progress
physically
—able to prepare her own light meals and walk around the house—she faced some emotional challenges, primarily with fear and anxiety. She couldn’t drive, so Tom chauffeured her to wherever she needed to be but, whenever she got in the car, she was afraid of getting into
an accident. She felt uncomfortable if he drove near other cars. And she suffered with disturbing dreams, nightmares and night sweats.

One of the high points in her recovery was the day the doctor cleared her for driving. She’d lost her driver’s license in the clothing that the hospital had cut from her body, so she had to hassle with getting a new license, starting with providing proof of birth and citizenship. Once she obtained her license and the doctor’s permission to drive, Tanya felt like she was back in the driver’s seat—in more ways than one. The liberation of being able to drive was so important to her that Tanya added it to her list of things for which she was grateful.

Her injuries, especially the open wound on her left hip and right thigh, continued to require treatment and she could not go back to work yet. But, less than six months after her discharge from the hospital, Tanya could walk without her cane.

Despite her scars and her ongoing medical needs, she felt fortunate that Tom, the ‘love of her life,’ still found her attractive. Though she lost her engagement and wedding rings in the wreckage, she felt that the rings symbolized the love between Tom and herself, which, she believes, grew stronger through their ordeal. Tanya’s faith in her marriage and in Tom’s love helped her to let go of her concerns about her appearance. The only person she wanted to impress was Tom, and Tanya did not concern herself with what anyone else thought of her. Tom feels that Tanya can accomplish whatever she sets out to do, though it may take a lot of work. And, from a place of deep love for her husband, Tanya believes that all things are possible for her.

When I came home from the hospital, my first goal was to get off painkillers, but I’m still on them. Without painkillers, I am in constant pain from nerve damage as well as from my wounds. These wounds get infected and, recently, I had three infections in a row. They keep recurring. Because of these chronic, non-healing wounds, I’ve been in and out of the
hospital since my original discharge. And, though I returned to work at Nordstrom’s as a customer service representative, I wasn’t able to keep it up. I had to go on disability. But, always, I am grateful to be alive
.

During the eight days I hung inside my car, pinned by the steering column and the door, I was unable to move anything but my right arm. My body had been crushed, wrapped in metal that held me until they rescued me. In the deep void of those eight days, I instinctively knew how to calm myself to survive the ordeal before me
.

I continue to question why the police did not conduct an immediate search and, as a result of this questioning, I feel some loss of faith in law enforcement and some concerns about the limitations imposed by their procedures. The fact is that the police can’t and don’t always protect us. We need to protect ourselves. We need to be aware of our surroundings, to notice who comes and goes in our neighborhoods, and to be proactive about our safety
.

Before I crashed into that ravine, I was in exceptionally good physical condition. Not long before the accident, I had asked Tom to purchase an elliptical trainer. He agreed, and I faithfully spent at least an hour on the elliptical trainer every day. This may have helped save my life and, so, I believe that I was fortunate. Even today, I enjoy working out on the elliptical, which seems to help me be more mobile for the rest of the day. And it lifts my spirits to know that, after all that has happened, I can still do it
.

Trapped again in the hospital—in a non-functioning body—I was at the mercy of nurses, doctors, rehab therapists and other caregivers. I did what I could, but I was very limited. Still, I wanted my freedom. I wanted my life back. I fought for it and I won
.

Looking at my ordeal against the backdrop of my life story and my battle with depression, I know that people wonder how I got through these years without sinking down into depression. To put it simply, when things are bad, I try to see the positive side of life because I believe that
it is unproductive to look only at what is wrong, without also trying to see what is right
.

People seem to want to see my scars but they are mine and mine alone. That is how it will always be. I work very hard to keep my scars a secret. I recall the pain and trauma as well as my strength and victory. I recall that, with prayer and my husband’s love, I found the strength to survive my physical terror and my mental wounds. I made it. Tom made it. We are the proof that—with prayer, hope and love—we can survive anything. For that, I am so grateful
.

I was five years old and my brother was two. We were playing in our yard in Placentia, California, when a man tried to abduct us. My mother called the police, who came to our home. I gave as good a description as I could of the man.

Later that same year, Stephen came tumbling out of an orange grove about a mile from our house. Witnesses watched him cross a busy intersection while two young Boy Scouts were trying to catch up with him to make sure he was okay. We never knew whether Stephen wandered away from our house—and walked a mile to the orange grove—or if someone took him and dumped him among those trees.

I was too young to understand what any of these things meant. But my mother knew. And, of course, as I grew up and had children of my own, I came to understand all too well.

When a child goes missing, many parents feel that their worst nightmare has come true. And, whether your child, spouse, dear friend or another loved one is missing, it will not matter
why
, but that they
are
. You will likely feel hopeless, helpless and uncertain. You will probably not know what to do or what to expect and, like Tom Rider, you will probably bounce back and forth—over and over—between an urgent adrenaline rush and a sickening sense of powerlessness. Unable to eat, you will be weak with hunger and, unable to sleep, you will be drunk with fatigue. And you will probably find yourself afraid to leave the telephone and tending
to gaze out the window or down the street, wishing that your loved one would just show up.

Despite the chaos of the emotions you will endure, you
will
get through it. And it is very important that you do because
you
will play an important role in solving the puzzle of finding your loved one. Your involvement can be key in bringing your loved one home.

When someone is missing from your life, it is a sad comfort to know that you are not alone. The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children (and Adults) (NCMEC) reports that, on average every year, 58,200 non-family abductions occur where a juvenile is held for longer than an hour. Forty percent are taken from a vehicle or from the street and 16 percent are taken from their home or yard. Approximately half are sexually assaulted and a third physically assaulted. In the vast majority of these cases—71 percent—the abductor was a stranger, and 21 percent of the time, the abductor was a slight acquaintance. Of the tens of thousands of children who are grabbed and held for at least an hour, less than one-fourth are reported to police. For several reasons, the rest of the cases go unreported. Many of those who are taken and released are afraid to tell their families or the authorities, since abductors often claim to know where families live and threaten to kill family members. Also, as a result of what the perpetrator did to them, some kidnap victims feel dirty and unworthy of rejoining their family so, often, they keep their ordeal a secret. Still others return to tell their families, who might discount the story and not believe what has taken place. As a result, just over twelvethousand abductions are reported to law enforcement annually.

Several hundred-thousand juveniles and adults go missing every year
. This encompasses all cases, from runaway reports to stranger abductions. The statistics are staggering and they are real, and they indicate that Americans are enduring an incredible loss of loved ones in greater numbers than ever before.

As a result, countless resources are available to help people search for their missing loved ones. Across the country, government entities, nonprofit organizations, and consultants advocate for improved systems that will help us prevent abductions and accidents and, when they do happen, provide help and support in the work to recover the missing. Police, state patrols, and federal agents have developed and constantly utilize ever-better tools for investigation, tracking, and publicity, and, at all levels—local, state, and national—we have more laws and more effective laws to help turn the tide of abductions.

Still, the system is not perfect. It failed Tanya and Tom Rider. In a country where hundreds of thousands of people go missing every year, each of us must consider that, one day, it could be
our
neighbor,
our
child’s friend, or
our
loved one who slips through the cracks and disappears. Yes, it is alarming.

While none of us wants to live in constant fear or act paranoid, we
must
be diligent. It is important to be prepared and one of the best ways you can do that is to arm yourself with information. Take simple steps to avoid getting lost. Know what to do if you are in an accident, trapped in your car. Carry emergency supplies. And if the unthinkable happens and someone you love goes missing, know what to do. If you are caught in a situation like the one Tom Rider faced, you would have an important advantage if you are aware of a few essential facts. Be familiar with the laws that govern missing persons investigations. Know the truth about filing missing persons reports—to whom you should report, when to file a report and where to go for help, for example. And know your rights. Find out what you can do if the local police department claims that your loved one wasn’t in their jurisdiction or if they refuse to file a report.

Efforts to Bring the Missing Home

I am a 911 dispatcher. Trying to make a difference, I teach law enforcement classes on active shooter incidents and crisis negotiations for the non-profit Association for Public-Safety Communications Officials, APCO International. I am also a volunteer instructor for NCMEC. As one of a handful of APCO adjunct instructors, I teach telecommunicators the best-practice protocol in handling child exploitation calls and incidents involving missing or abducted children and adults. The NCMEC sends me and other unpaid volunteers to travel across the country on our own time, doing everything we can to teach dispatchers how to give missing persons the best chance of returning to their loved ones.

I do this work because I want to answer the calls—and help others to answer the calls—that I could not make as a child and young adult. Growing up in a transient family, I had a secret: Despite appearances, my childhood was a disaster because my father was abusive. He remains in prison today as retribution for his crimes against me and many others.

To navigate the missing person system, it is important to be knowledgeable about how that system works, what is available, and how agencies interact and share information. At the national level, missing person reports are entered into a computerized database called the National Crime Information Center (NCIC). The NCIC began in 1967 and added missing persons records in 1975. NCIC has grown to include a variety of records and today, for example, it includes stolen property, people on the National Sex Offender Registry, known or suspected terrorists and more. The NCIC averages 7.5 million transactions per day and, by the end of 2009, it contained more than fifteen-million active records within nineteen files.

When a person is reported as missing, the information is entered into the NCIC. This information can include name, date of birth, height, weight, eye color, hair color, sex, race, social security number, scars,
tattoos, a photograph, and the name and contact information for the case’s investigators. NCIC retains each missing-person record until the individual is located or until the law enforcement agency that entered the record cancels it.

As of December 31, 2009, NCIC had
active
missing-person records on 96,192 individuals, more than half of whom were juveniles. During the 2009 calendar year, 719,558 missing persons were entered into NCIC; this was down from 778,161 entered in 2008. The NCIC classifies missing persons into six distinct categories of persons who:

• have a proven physical or mental disability (classified as Disability—EMD);

• are missing under circumstances indicating that they may be in physical danger (classified as Endangered—EME);

• are missing after a catastrophe (classified as Catastrophe Victim—EMV);

• are missing under circumstances indicating their disappearance may not have been voluntary (classified as Involuntary—EMI);

• are under the age of 21 and do not meet the above criteria (classified as Juvenile—EMJ);