That Time I got a Watch

In 1982, in the community in which my family lived, an 8 year old girl named Kelly was kidnapped. She was found two days later having been beaten, strangled, and sexually assaulted.  This was not just a case of a random girl gone missing, she was a classmate of my brother. They were students at Indianola school in Columbus, Ohio.  The next morning after Kelly did not arrive home after school the day before, my parents received a phone call at 4am from the Columbus Police. Every family in the class received this call with an intent to find more information about this young girl. My brother Jordy who was in the first grade, was awoken by mom and dad and asked about Kelly. Were they friends? Did he see her after school? Mom and Dad then they shared the news with all of us that Kelly Jordy’s classmate had not arrived home the day before. What a tragedy this was for that class of first and second graders. Fear and helplessness were felt throughout the school and the families.  Parents were scared and on edge. News cameras showed up trying to talk to teachers and parents. Counselors were present for the children and most teachers with their heart on their sleeve, read books to the children, allowed them to talk, play and make art. 

The case was not solved for 40 years when DNA evidence was discovered from a man who had died in prison for a different crime. 

At the time of Kelly’s death I was 12 years old and I had started to be a little more independent, hanging out with friends after school, talking on the phone, and often taking long bike rides.  The year before I had completed elementary school at Indianola and was in a new middle school where none of my brothers were students. My parents were not as involved in middle school as they were in elementary school.  

 A few weeks after Kelly was kidnapped and killed, my friend Todd and I road our bikes after school to an adjoining neighborhood to see some friends.  As a quiet and mostly shy kid I was exciting to be included and to get to see classmates outside of school. We played games and rode our bikes. We gossiped and had snacks. No one knew where I was.  Todd and I would often ride our bikes after school, and I didn’t think anything about it on this particular day. No one was home when I got home from school and I didn’t expect to be gone for long. My 12-year-old self did not think about this being a big deal since we were only 6 blocks away. 

It was getting later and later, and I started to get uncomfortable. I didn’t know the time, but I knew it was getting on toward the time I should go home. I was ready to leave but Todd wasn’t ready. Although I felt anxious and knew we should go home, I stayed with him and the other kids.  Eventually we went home since it was getting dark being mid October.  As we turned onto our street in front of my house standing on the sidewalk was my mom and dad, my 3 younger brothers, and Todd’s mom.  They were not happy.  I could not meet their eyes and Todd and I tried to bike past them and go on to his house. “STOP” my dad said. I did so reluctantly.  The parents told us they were worried sick and did not know where were. Since we were safe, they were mad and very upset. Todd and his mom went home. I put my bike away in the garage and then followed everyone inside through the back door.

Dad asked, “why didn’t you call”?  I mumbled, “we were playing outside” and with more determination in my voice “I couldn’t just go into someone’s house AND we were not gone that long”. I bravely continued, “I thought you wanted me to make new friends”! Mom, calm but with a continued edge of fear said, “You could have gone into your friend's house and called or have come home”. It didn’t actually occur to me to ask to make a phone call.   It also did not occur to me that the worst was going through mom and dad’s minds in the wake of events of the past month.   I did not fully understand this at the time, only many years later when I had my daughter could I understand the fear and panic they were going through. I experienced that once when my daughter was 7 and I lost her in the Monterey Bay Aquarium for 30 minutes. My parents did not think I was trying to scare them purposely.  I was a kid and had lost track of time and I was having fun.

That evening after dinner my dad took me out to Lazarus and bought me a watch. It was a Timex with a yellow face, brown band, and it even had the date.  He also gave me a dime to keep in my shoe so I could always make a phone call.   

When my brothers and I were older and reminisced about that event they still were incredulous. “You were in trouble and got to go shopping for a watch”.  “Some punishment”. Yep! I got a watch and a discussion about when I was expected home. 

As I got older, riding my bike was less interesting. I was writing in my journal and spending more time with my girlfriends. We moved when I was in 7th grade and I managed to get through middle and high school. I was learning that the world was not always a safe place, especially for girls.

I have never forgot about that evening when I was 12 and was late coming home.  That day I ignored the discomfort and anxiety I was feeling and went along with my friend (a boy) and caused my family worry and fear.  This was one of my first lessons of learning to follow my instincts and to not go along with someone or something that makes me uncomfortable. It took a lot more of these lessons to learn to listen to myself.

Many times I have thought back to that terrible tragedy when Kelly was killed, when the adults were powerless to bring her back and the overwhelming  feelings of shock and anger over such violent act toward a child. I remember my own experiences from that time and that dark evening in October of 1982 when I got a watch.