Chapter 2
Julie And Gary
November 29, 1990 - San Francisco, California
Julie's husband Gary disappears with their daughter Jessica.
Jessica is a 'large-for-her-age' blond, blue-eyed girl. Julie says, "She’s only two and a half. She's the most beautiful and intelligent girl that you could ever imagine. She's the 'miracle' child. She needs me and I need her."
Jessica was conceived during a seventeen month separation from Gary. When Julie was four months pregnant with Jessica she reunited with Gary. Julie says, “I was at my lowest point. I met Gary. We agreed to get back together and try to make it.”
Julie gave Jessica the family name because "If we're going to be a family I don't want to have the constant reminder of when we were separated. And think of the legal hassles of different surnames. Gary grew to love Jessi. But he left her favorite doll here and her good coat. She always sleeps with that doll, always. How can he take her and not know that she needs that doll… And it's winter. If he goes to a cold place she's going to need a good coat."
Gary calls Julie and reports that he's in Albuquerque N.M. There's threats, regrets, proposals, disagreement. Two days later he reports that he's in Mobile Alabama. There's oaths and troths, prayers and curses. Then Gary slips into darkness, nothing, nothing, nothing. Every day...nothing.
Julie sits by the phone and smokes, eating nothing, nothing.
In the past few days she has called the police, her mother, his mother, his brother, his uncle, a lawyer, the phone company to ask for calls to be traced. The supervisor on duty says Gary's calls can not be traced after the fact. Julie accepts this as fact, not always true. The supervisor’s name is Trish. Trish is not important now but will be so important later.
Julie sees faces on cartons and calls an organization for missing children 1-800. She has seen other cases reported on national news. She calls newspaper reporters, radio and TV news stations. Julie sends away for membership to a Missing Children’s Society. Of the half million children that have disappeared, the lottery of news media attention 'rewards' just a few 'winners'. The winners get to join another lottery of persistent and dogged police work, persevering volunteer workers, the hopeful intentions of tipsters and the blessing of success. My latest 1-800 card says "Over fifty featured children have been recovered".
Julie wants 'in' on this slim lottery. But Julie and Jessica are lost in a sea of names.
Julie fills up the front and back of every large and small paper, every envelope, with the names and telephone numbers of people who would give her a few minutes, she notes their department, their title. Then she notes who they tell her to call next.
She continues until hope and energy expire. Temporarily exhausted, she smokes and consumes herself from the inside until another hope or another agency comes to mind. Then she starts again. Julie doesn’t give up.
She waits by the phone, afraid to go out for fear of missing a call from Gary. After a few days she must leave to go down to the police station to fill out the complaint.
"Bring some photographs of both parties. Like so and like so."
"Can I have these back after you copy them? They are so important to me."
Julie waits for any call. The police report, "Can you bring us some more photographs? We seem to have misplaced the ones you gave us."
"Damn you! Damn you!"
"Watch it lady! I'm thisclose."
"You'd better not lose these new ones! What's wrong with you?"
Now Julie fears that the attitude of the police might be 'Can you imagine a white bitch from Geneva Towers thinks she can talk to me like that? See what she'll get from me!'
Geneva Towers, in the Sunnydale Avenue projects, Welfare Projects, Federally subsidized, low income housing, mostly black, is where a cop might have to leave his car after it gets smoked. Julie fears the police ask, “What’s that white bitch doing living in that black neighborhood?”
Julie - Watch This Number. Receive Your Child.
Julie is right. The police will stand by and refuse to help. But the desk clerk accepted a Missing Person’s Report from Julie. The clerk punched it into the National Computer for Missing Persons. The computer spit out a number on a tiny stub. It’s the strangest thing you ever saw. We’re talking about a missing child, right? Well – this stub looks like a receipt for your taco or your laundry – no name, no date, just a number. Julie stashed it in the safe-deposit zipper in the torn lining of her sad purse. Keep your eye on that torn lining. Keep your eye on that stub. That stub will become immensely important. There’s only one stub and Julie guards it. She can’t be as fragmented as the police and the courts present her on paper. I’m going to present her as I knew her. But I haven’t met her yet.
Julie doesn’t eat. She smokes, drinks tea, reads the Bible, waits by the phone on the hope of a call. The one good thing, she says, is that she has lost fifteen pounds in two weeks. “If Gary could see me now he’d eat his heart out. I’m getting my figure back.”
Her neighbors are so sympathetic. “Poor Julie. I don’t think he even left town. Natalie says she saw a guy who looked like Gary and he had a blond little girl downtown and he was getting on the Mission bus.”
“Everybody in the complex and the building guards are on the lookout for him. If he comes walking anywhere around in this neighborhood they’re going to grab him and beat the shit out of him and take Jessi.”
All the tiny black kids come around. “Jessi back? Where Jessi? Where Jessi?” “Poor Julie, Poor Julie. That bastard.”
Gary – Long Island, New York.
Gary hitch-hiked to Long Island New York, some busses, but mostly on the help and good will of people who gave him rides and money. When Julie’s telephone bills arrive in late December it will be confirmed, by Gary’s collect call charges, that Gary actually was in Albuquerque and Mobile. Musta’ been somebody else on the Mission bus.
Gary asked his mother and brother for assistance in setting up household on Long Island and for initiating his legal maneuvers to acquire custody papers in the sovereign state of New York. He wants to dig himself into a legal beach-head on the Atlantic.
A felony has been committed according to the laws of California. If the papers would ever be stamped, the crime would be ‘elevated’ to a Federal felony because Gary has fled the state. The act is the crime but the papers declare it so. The San Francisco police will refuse to float any criminal felony papers. The laws in California and some other states say ‘felony’. But you must appeal to the police. Julie is denied law. Why? Let the reader decide.
Gary’s immediate family are reluctant to take an active role in helping him. So he’s living at the home of an uncle and has begun to use that address as his base for establishing residence. If Gary can establish residence on Long Island and gain custody the door will have been shut.
Julie calls Gary’s family in New York, “Has he contacted anybody?”
“We want to be out of it. He hasn’t contacted us. We have no idea where he is. We don’t want to help him or you.”
Gary’s family hopes to stay out of it. And maybe a D.A. would never press this point. No criminal charges exist yet and they never will. But looking the other way doesn’t stop the crime. Julie says, “The other day I was walking downtown and I was so distracted or tired that I almost stepped off the curb in front of a bus. I realized how easy it would be, I mean if I did just step off the curb at the wrong time. And it wouldn’t be my fault…. would it? I mean I’m always so tired and distracted… all the time. I don’t think it would be my fault…. then I’d be able to be with my kids…. that’s the only way I’m going to be able to be with my kids….then I think of that little girl…. he can’t take care of her….. and I say ‘no’.”
Special Treatment From The San Francisco Police
During Julie’s trips to the SFPD she met a young policeman. He listened to her story and offered additional help. “My father is retired from the SFPD. But he was Police Chief at one Precinct. He has a lot of connections. If you meet me after hours we’ll go over to my place and I’ll introduce you to him. He’ll get them to focus on your case. And maybe he can find your lost photographs.”
“When? How can I meet him?”
“There’s a pool tournament tonight. Terry’s Lodge. 15th and Irving. I’m in it. We’ll be done by ten. Meet me there. We’ll go over to my place. Tomorrow I’ll bring you to my father’s place.”
“You don’t live with your father?”
“No. I’ll bring you to him…. Ok?”
“Well … why am I coming to your house tonight if your father doesn’t live there?”
“Look. I’m busy. You want me to help you right away. We’ll be together in the morning and we can pop right over to my father’s place before I go to work.”
“Oh.”
“Otherwise I won’t have the time. Do you want me to help?”
“Yes. Okay. Where do I meet you?”
“Terry’s Lodge, 15th and Irving. We’ll be done by ten o’clock.”
“Okay.”
Chapter 2 Pg Copyright John O'Brien 201 Redwood Cir. Petaluma Ca. 94954