9 Weeks

“Starting off with our segment of the missing children: Thomas Edwards, age seven, is still missing. He was last seen on March 27 at 6:00p.m playing with friends in the family yard. He was wearing a white Hanes t-shirt and corduroy pants. Thomas Edwards is considered a missing child of the Philadelphia area. If you have any information, please contact the local authorities.”
I promptly shut the radio off. Listening to the silence, aside from the television softly playing I Love Lucy in the background, I made my way to the kitchen counter and slumped into a chair with my head cradled in my hands. I am tired and getting no sleep. I cry about that day. The memory will be ingrained into my mind forever. Tears of anger and frustration come at night, but not in front of Margret. This is getting absolutely nowhere. Every morning, I scan the paper, hoping to see an ad in the missing persons section, but I have had no luck so far. I ask myself “Do they actually know what they’re doing down there at the station?” I tell myself to go down there when I find extra time, maybe on a Friday when Margret is off from work too. I have not and I will not give up. I still listen, wait and pray even if it has been years since I have been to church, for the safe return of my son. Margret gives me updates on the police every couple of days with the case, but they say the same thing. They’re working “diligently on the case and will update on anything they find.” It’s total bullshit though; they have not contacted us since last week with any new updates or leads. Thomas has been missing for four weeks now.
Thomas is everything to us. He is such a good boy. He is into trains and trucks and gets excited about building projects that he makes out of LEGO pieces. As good as Thomas was and our relationship with him as his parents was wonderful, Margret and I found ourselves arguing all the time with one another on various topics. At that point, our marriage was not going so well. I thought one of us was going to leave. I thought it was her for a while.
Before Thomas’s disappearance, there had been stories of young kids going missing suddenly and then the police would try and find them, but the kids would end up dead somewhere. We agreed to put our differences aside and keep Thomas safe at all costs.
March 27 was a Tuesday. Right after school, the kids get off the school bus and all of Thomas’ friends gather in the front yard to play ball. My favorite part of the day was watching my son and his friends while playing a game of baseball.
The last time I remember seeing him, was during this impromptu game, and I went inside for a few minutes.When I came back out on the porch he was gone. Richard, one of our neighbor’s kids told me that there was a brown truck on the curb and Thomas went to go see what it was. Now looking back, I am the reason he’s missing. Someone took him, because of my carelessness and stupidity. How could I be so dumb, knowing that young kids were in my yard without any adult supervision even if for a few minutes? I remember it like it was yesterday. We called the police and they took the details of what we remembered about the disappearance.
Friday, after work, both Margret and I took a drive to the police station. I was furious that that had not called us to update on anything. Waiting in the lobby of the police precinct, I saw two officers walking out of an office. One was Police Chief Randy Collins, who Margret and I first met when we first reported Thomas missing. He is a nice guy, always reassuring. The other one, I don’t really remember. Chief Collins introduced him as Detective Steve Robbins. I believe he was the detective that was assigned to Thomas’s case. As the two officers walked up to us, I spoke first. I looked brashly staring directly into the detective that Chief introduced as Steve Robbins’ eyes. “I just want to know if there are any more updates on Thomas’ case,” I said gritting my teeth. “We are doing everything we can.” “Recently, it has been difficult to try to find any new evidence.” I was ready to take the wooden bench I was sitting on and gash this motherfucker right into the wall. I tried keeping my composure. Beside me, Margret spoke. “Just tell me where my son is, because it’s been four weeks so far and all I’ve gotten is a call about a brown truck on the side of the street. That was a whole week ago!!” After Margret spoke, Detective Robbins, like the coward he is, walked away into an office. Chief Collins, who was now standing alone, with a reassuring smile suggested “Why don’t we step into my office?”
While on the way to the Chief’s office, I had seen a person reclined in a chair in an office. The person sitting in the chair was Detective Robbins flipping through a March issue of Playboy with Marian Stafford posing on the cover. Chief Collins, noticing our silent footsteps asked “Is everything alright?” “ I paused momentarily. “Actually, Chief, no everything is not alright.” “The unprofessionalism I have seen with this police department today, is completely absurd. “ I turned on my heels, with Margret profusely apologizing, for my actions briskly went after me. After she opened the car door, she asked horrified “What is your problem?!’ The man is trying to help!”
Later that week, Margret got a call from the police station. “They had said we need to go and see them right away. They want to explain themselves.” “No, we do not need to see them.” I replied . “We are doing this on our own. “
I soon realized I did not need the police’s help finding my son. We recruited anyone who was willing to help us find our son. We started making missing persons flyers, placing them anywhere we possibly could such as milk cartons and on the radio. We re-interviewed neighbors and the people who could possibly have any whereabouts to where Thomas was last seen. It has been seven weeks since Thomas went missing.
Although, no one had seen Thomas or any calls about the missing persons flyer, I was not giving up hope.
I was tired of waiting. After I got home from work, I changed into comfortable clothing, and without telling Margret, took the keys of the Ford Station Wagon and backed out of the driveway. I was not sure where I was headed. Maybe if I drive for a while, an idea will emerge, and it will hopefully be another idea to find Thomas.
I drove a few feet from the forest, which was behind the neighborhood, and got out of the car. I kept walking, it felt as if I was walking in circles. I noticed a snagged piece of white material. Thomas was wearing white the day that he went missing. I carefully took the snagged piece of material and closely examined it off the branch. This was a piece of the shirt that Thomas was wearing.
Towards the end of the forest leads onto the major highway. This is where I was headed next. I ran back to the car, and stepped on the gas toward the highway. As I was driving, my breath started to hitch in my throat as I got closer. I pulled over on to the side of the road and got out of the car.
Cars were whirring and I found myself running. People must have thought I was crazy. Alongside the highway is a ditch filled with rainwater from the recent thunderstorms. Surrounding the ditch along with the water, were empty water bottles, soda cans and other miscellaneous objects. I must have been close to something. I was not too late. There was still hope for us. More importantly, hope for Thomas. I found myself whispering a prayer to whichever God was listening. I think I saw something. I start running toward the ditch, wading the in the water. I see a child’s body. My worst fears have come true. I was numb and in shock, thoughts were not being processed. I sank in the water, if only for a few moments and cradled my son in my hands. For the first time in weeks, I let them flow. The tears I have been holding in, blurred my vision, not believing it. I whispered “I’m so sorry, Thomas.” This is all my fault.” In the middle of whirring traffic, I found myself screaming and cursing at God.
I looked around. Cars were still going on the highway. I saw my son’s skin. Blistered and bruised, it was soft to the touch. I He had no pulse. Cuts and scrapes were all over. Dried blood was covering the scrape as if it were a brand new cut. Maggots and beetles surrounded my son’s already infested skin, crawling all over eating his flesh. It was a horrible sight to see. I believe I had to see it for myself, to believe it really happened that this was not a horrible nightmare. His usually, neatly combed hair was now a disheveled and matted, covered in dirt and drenched in the water he had been laying in for weeks. His once clean and white Hanes shirt was now a wet grass and dirt stained shirt partly ripped on the left shoulder sleeve.
I found Thomas’s body nine weeks later, since being first reported missing on March 27. When I found him, his body had been decaying for several weeks at the point, and in already the later stages of decomposition.
An autopsy report was filed one week after Thomas’s body was found. The coroner told us that he was savagely beaten with severe brain damage hemorrhaging. He eventually died due to the blunt force of a possible heavy object. Margret and I have filed another criminal investigation as a result of the death of Thomas. That investigation is ongoing.
Even after everything that has been happening to Margret and I, we believe once we put Thomas to rest, we will have peace of mind that our son is at peace now. I am still numb and in disbelief and shock. I still blame myself for the disappearance and eventual death, of our son.
I do not think we will ever find closure about what happened to Thomas. I believe we will be okay knowing he’s at peace.
“A memorial service is being held for seven year old Thomas Edwards. He was first reported missing on March 27 of this year and found dead a few weeks ago. His family has filed another investigation which is still ongoing. The memorial service is being held on May 11, at Freedom Church in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.”