released after all this time? I think, today of all days, we should just be grateful that she’s back home with her family. There will be plenty of time for those questions in the coming days and weeks.”
“Were there any sightings of the suspect leaving Laurel in the yard yesterday? Any CCTV?”
“We’re not aware of any sightings at the moment, but officers will be going door-to-door on Stanley Street, speaking to every resident. We will, of course, be reviewing CCTV footage for anything that might be relevant.”
“Did the police fail Laurel?”
An almost inaudible sigh from Police Officer Number One. “We did everything we could to find Laurel Logan, mounting the biggest search the county has ever seen. But sadly, tragically, it wasn’t enough….Now Bernard Ness would like to say a few words before I hand this over to the Logans.” He doesn’t quite manage to hide the disdain in his voice.
Bernard Ness is the mayor. God knows what he’s doing there. Bernard Ness is not a fat man, but he walks as if he is. He huffs and puffs his way up to the microphone, and I become transfixed by his nose. It’s bulbous and red, much like the rest of his face. His sideburns are damp with sweat.
He was also present at the press conference thirteen years ago. Deputy mayor back then, slightly less red, less bulbous, milling around in the background. This time he’s right there up onstage with my family. It quickly becomes clear that Bernard Ness is here for two reasons: he likes the sound of his own voice, and he’s desperate to associate himself with a good-news story (and let’s face it—this is the best good-news story there’s been in a long, long time). Maybe he thinks it will help people forget the financial scandal he was involved in last month.
Ness says that thirteen years ago “our community” was shocked and devastated and a few more words that all amount to the same thing. The crime against “Little Laurel Logan” threatened to tear “our community” apart, but in the end it brought us closer together. “We” never gave up hope. Apparently.
He talks for far too long, but no one tries to shut him up. Laurel and Mom and Dad listen politely in the background. Laurel’s face is perfectly expressionless. Finally, Ness starts winding down. He ends his pointless speech by turning toward Laurel, pausing for effect, then saying, “Welcome home, Laurel.” Laurel nods; she doesn’t smile.
Dad’s up next. The first thing he says is, “I’m going to keep this short,” and I love him for it. In the background, Bernard Ness nods as though this isn’t a dig at him. Dad talks about how happy we all are to have Laurel home, and thanks everyone who never gave up searching and hoping and believing she would come back. He thanks the police and says (emphatically) that they should not be held responsible for what “that man” did to his daughter. Then he does something weird. He addresses Laurel’s captor directly. “Whoever you are, wherever you are, I want you to know that we
will
find you, and you will be held accountable for your crimes.” He lets that hang for a beat or two before taking a steadying breath. His hands grip the sides of the lectern. “But for now, today, I want to thank you.” There are no gasps from the crowd or anything, but you can tell people are shocked. I certainly am. “Thank you for giving our daughter back to us.”
Dad sits down, and no one seems to know what should happen next. The police officers exchange glances, and Mom looks at Dad, and Dad looks at Laurel, and Bernard Ness looks at the photographers (of course). Laurel stands and walks over to the lectern.
Laurel looks out at the crowd in front of her, and it seems like she’s looking at each and every face and camera. She doesn’t flinch under the constant flashing. “My name is Laurel Logan.” She clears her throat and takes a shaky breath. I can’t believe how brave she is, doing this. “My name is Laurel
“Were there any sightings of the suspect leaving Laurel in the yard yesterday? Any CCTV?”
“We’re not aware of any sightings at the moment, but officers will be going door-to-door on Stanley Street, speaking to every resident. We will, of course, be reviewing CCTV footage for anything that might be relevant.”
“Did the police fail Laurel?”
An almost inaudible sigh from Police Officer Number One. “We did everything we could to find Laurel Logan, mounting the biggest search the county has ever seen. But sadly, tragically, it wasn’t enough….Now Bernard Ness would like to say a few words before I hand this over to the Logans.” He doesn’t quite manage to hide the disdain in his voice.
Bernard Ness is the mayor. God knows what he’s doing there. Bernard Ness is not a fat man, but he walks as if he is. He huffs and puffs his way up to the microphone, and I become transfixed by his nose. It’s bulbous and red, much like the rest of his face. His sideburns are damp with sweat.
He was also present at the press conference thirteen years ago. Deputy mayor back then, slightly less red, less bulbous, milling around in the background. This time he’s right there up onstage with my family. It quickly becomes clear that Bernard Ness is here for two reasons: he likes the sound of his own voice, and he’s desperate to associate himself with a good-news story (and let’s face it—this is the best good-news story there’s been in a long, long time). Maybe he thinks it will help people forget the financial scandal he was involved in last month.
Ness says that thirteen years ago “our community” was shocked and devastated and a few more words that all amount to the same thing. The crime against “Little Laurel Logan” threatened to tear “our community” apart, but in the end it brought us closer together. “We” never gave up hope. Apparently.
He talks for far too long, but no one tries to shut him up. Laurel and Mom and Dad listen politely in the background. Laurel’s face is perfectly expressionless. Finally, Ness starts winding down. He ends his pointless speech by turning toward Laurel, pausing for effect, then saying, “Welcome home, Laurel.” Laurel nods; she doesn’t smile.
Dad’s up next. The first thing he says is, “I’m going to keep this short,” and I love him for it. In the background, Bernard Ness nods as though this isn’t a dig at him. Dad talks about how happy we all are to have Laurel home, and thanks everyone who never gave up searching and hoping and believing she would come back. He thanks the police and says (emphatically) that they should not be held responsible for what “that man” did to his daughter. Then he does something weird. He addresses Laurel’s captor directly. “Whoever you are, wherever you are, I want you to know that we
will
find you, and you will be held accountable for your crimes.” He lets that hang for a beat or two before taking a steadying breath. His hands grip the sides of the lectern. “But for now, today, I want to thank you.” There are no gasps from the crowd or anything, but you can tell people are shocked. I certainly am. “Thank you for giving our daughter back to us.”
Dad sits down, and no one seems to know what should happen next. The police officers exchange glances, and Mom looks at Dad, and Dad looks at Laurel, and Bernard Ness looks at the photographers (of course). Laurel stands and walks over to the lectern.
Laurel looks out at the crowd in front of her, and it seems like she’s looking at each and every face and camera. She doesn’t flinch under the constant flashing. “My name is Laurel Logan.” She clears her throat and takes a shaky breath. I can’t believe how brave she is, doing this. “My name is Laurel
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