In October 2016, 2-year-old Rainn Peterson vanished from her great-grandparents’ home in Ohio. After a tireless weekend-long search, a volunteer discovered Rainn sleeping in a field, alive and well.
“‘How’s your son? Is he finally that TV star?’ Her question stopped me dead in my tracks. I left with tears in my eyes. He’s been missing for 2 years.”
“We began frantically looking in the houseboat, in cupboards, under beds. I called out his name, begging him to stop playing games, hoping he was just playing hide ‘n’ seek. Looking over the river, it was so calm, but you couldn’t see a thing under the surface – it was just too murky. My mom came to the realization that my father needed to be called, to be told his son is missing. ‘It’s going to be okay; we are going to be okay,’ my mom repeated, trying to put on a brave face.”
“The mom was gathering an unholy ton of luggage, and had turned away for just a moment. She looked up with absolute horror. People were suddenly shoulder to shoulder, crammed like sardines. I bent down to a sweet, terrified girl. Quiet tears fell before the shaking of her small sobs could be heard. There was no police. No security guard. No one, but her.”
“I heard my mother shout, ‘Your sister is missing! We have no idea where she is!’ I got on the next plane, determined to find her myself. Because of her mental state and drug addiction, it didn’t seem to matter to others. We were told, ‘Maybe she doesn’t want to be found.’”
“I looked in every bloodied towel, piece of clothing, and bathroom for a sign of a precious life to bury. I whispered to myself, ‘Why are you doing this?’ In a fog of confusion, I quietly sobbed.”