Monday, April 11, 2016

Protect and Serve




           It was the middle of fall and the middle of the week when two men found me. Apparently, they were heading south toward the Florida Keys on US 1. Maybe they were driving their usual route home. Maybe they were just taking a day trip. Whatever it was, they were in for an interesting ride.
I was buried in a foot of water in the swamps off US 1 and mile marker 120 in unincorporated Miami-Dade County. I was shot. This was homicide.
I was a pretty darn handsome man, age 35 to 45, Caucasian/Latino. I was 5'7" and weighed 141 lbs. I had brown eyes and short brown hair. I was wearing a pair of Gap blue jeans, size 31/28, and a dark blue T-shirt that had a City of New York Police Department emblem on the left side, right over my heart. I had on white socks with blue trim and size 11 black Buffalino shoes. It’s safe to say my favorite color, at least that day, was blue. The color of water. The water I was buried in.
Did someone mistake me for a police officer and have a bad taste for law enforcement? Was I targeted? Did a family member of mine work for the NYPD and give me a shirt for Christmas one year? What if I was in the process of getting a transfer to New York and wanted to be a part of New York’s finest?
        Maybe I had witnessed a crime and tried to do my due diligence, but my bare hands could not beat out a firearm. Whoever decided that day in October was the end of my days was the last person I ever saw. Did that angry person or group take me to the swamps to bury me there? Or just push me out of a moving vehicle as they fled? Will you help me find the answers?

If you have any information about this man, please contact:
Miami-Dade Medical Examiner
305-545-2400
305-545-2412 (fax)
Case #ME 1991-2727
Metro Dade Police Department 506844-L
NCIC #U539095379

View his profile here:  Miami-Dade, Florida, John Doe, October 1991


Wednesday, March 30, 2016

The Last House on the Left




Halloween 1990, a group of teenagers ready to go out to a party heard a truck down the road open its doors and a woman scream. Seeing as it was Halloween, they thought it was a joke and didn’t really think twice about it again. Unfortunately, that was me screaming for my life.
Sounds like the plot to a horror movie doesn’t it? “Woman found in a remote area near an abandoned farm house, cause of death: possible strangulation.” Well, this is no movie.  On Sunday, December 2, 1990, I was found in an abandoned farmhouse off Oscar Talley Road near Anderson, Missouri. I was hogtied with six different types of material: nylon rope, lead rope, coaxial cable, telephone cable, parachute cord, and clothesline. As if using only one wasn’t bad enough. The only evidence that they found from my killer was a single blonde hair and a fingernail.
As for my identity, no one has any idea. I was found in a blue jean coat, Lee blue jeans, a white T-shirt, and white fitness brand high-top sneakers, size 7 ½. I am between 5'1" and 5'4" tall, 21 to 31 years of age, and around 100 to 140 pounds. The sheriff’s department believes I was not a local, but the one thing they do know is I was well taken care of because I recently had a lot of dental work done. This means that I have people out there who cared about me enough to make sure my health was in tiptop shape. Those same people are probably still wondering where I am.
The sheriff’s department named me “Grace Doe” because according to everyone, it would only be by the grace of God that they would find out who I really am. Please help me prove all these people wrong and bring me my identity back.

If you have any information about this woman, please contact
McDonald Country Coroner
P.O. Box 520, Anderson, MO 64831
417-845-3393



Wednesday, March 16, 2016

A Chill in the Air




If you’ve ever experienced the weather in Pennsylvania, then you know how temperamental it can be. Yet, even when it’s muggy, there could still be a little chill in the air, especially if it has rained. There was definitely a chill that night I lost my life.
                They found me about 50 feet from Christman Road in Berks County between Lenhartsville and Virginville off of Route 78. I was found in a gully behind some brush when a farmer was plowing his cornfield to ready it for soybeans. I had been there at least 8 months to a year. They know that because of the last time the fields were plowed for a crop rotation.
                I was wearing a long dark Benetton sweater dress with large white buttons and a long-sleeved, light-colored pullover top with five buttons down the front, little pleats, and a small collar. I wore a white vinyl belt cinched around the XL dress because I was slim and only about 120 to 130 lbs. I stood 5'3" and had short light-brown hair. I was estimated only to be between 25 and 40 years old. I still had my whole life ahead of me.
                I was wearing a small digital sport watch with an orange, pink, and yellow plastic band. They could also tell I was slender because the way my watch was secured around my small wrist. Maybe I got that as a gift. I loved the bright, happy colors. I was also wearing a gray metal ring without any stones, and I carried with me a small dolphin-shaped object that could’ve been a broach or pin that someone special gave to me. Whoever took my life at least left me with my personal things.
                I was even found with a cylindrical metallic object that possibly could’ve been the handle of an umbrella. Was it raining that night? Did I accept a ride so I wouldn’t have to walk in the rain? Did my vehicle break down? Was I lost and trying to find my way back home, or was I just there temporarily to enjoy the lake?
                About two miles uphill from where I was found, there were mushroom houses where immigrant workers stayed. There was also a recreational lake, Christmas Lake, with summer homes and bungalows, where families would come and enjoy the summertime or peace and quiet during the hectic months. Had I planned on visiting the area for my vacation stay? Was I dumped by someone I knew, or was I just in the wrong place at the wrong time?
                It is suspected that foul play was involved because some of my bones were not recovered. They said I had borne at least one child. Do I have children looking for me? Are they wondering why they can’t find Mom?

If you have any information regarding this person, please contact:
Berks County Coroner
1243 County Welfare Road
 Leesport, PA 19533
 610-478-3280
 610-478-3289 (fax)


                

Monday, January 11, 2016

Last Night at the Club



Now to most people, when you hear about a nightclub or beach in Miami, you think party or enjoyment. Well, for me, it’s quite the opposite. My body was found at One Ocean Drive, on the grounds of Penrod’s Beach Club, later to become Nikki Beach, near the beach in Miami Beach, Florida.
The night I died, I made a makeshift bed out of folded blankets and watched as all the young adults headed out for the night. With the tropical feel of the club and the great dance music, I remember lying down and watching in awe at how dressed up everyone was. I, myself, however, was found wearing tattered navy blue polyester pants, a large black leather belt, a worn black T-shirt, large gray cotton socks, and old black Reebok tennis shoes. All the other items I owned, a blue duffel bag containing a pillow and jacket, were found with me as well.
The night I passed away might just have been because of my medical issues. Standing at 6'1" and 147 pounds, a large growth just under my right shoulder blade had broken through my thin body and frail skin. You see, unfortunately, I had metastatic cancer. I was only between the ages of 46 and 60, far from my time to leave this earth.
Maybe, when I was younger and healthier, I used to frequent this club or spend endless hours lying by the beach; heck, maybe I was even a surfer waiting to catch the perfect wave. But now all I am waiting for is my name back. Please, even though I may have been homeless and very sick, someone out there might still be looking for me, or at least, understand that I deserve an identity.

If you have any information about this man, please contact

District 11, Medical Examiner’s Office, 
Number One Bob Hope Road, 
Miami, FL 33136-1133, 
305-545-2400
Case # 1999-0923

View his profile data here:  Miami Dade Florida John Doe April 1999

Friday, January 1, 2016

Happy Birthday, America!



Happy Birthday, America! Just three days before I was found on July 7, 1997, I must have been celebrating Independence Day by watching the fireworks. You know they are spectacular and my favorite part of July. The sparkling lights lighting up the sky from miles away, and the array of colors are just absolutely mesmerizing. Since I was probably homeless, I could only show my pride by picking one of the two shirts I owned with any patriotic colors: a black T-shirt with a red insignia along with Florida State across it. I was also found in beige Cotler dress pants; a black belt with a rectangular buckle; my other T-shirt, size large, JUN JUL brand; and—don’t embarrass me but—medium Fruit of the Loom briefs with a gray waistband.
The night I was found, I may have not been hanging around with the best crowd. The back of the warehouse on 78 NE Fourth Court was where I might have made my home; more times than not, it was used for drug users to feed their habit. When you live near a place like I did, that kind of life can suck you in in the worst way possible. People may think because I died of a drug overdose that I might not be worth finding or even giving a name. When you’re found in a place like I was with no identity, what do you think people would say about me? A junkie who probably deserved what happened to him? But no one will ever know what the truth is and finding out my real name is the first step in in doing so. Think about it from your perspective, wouldn’t you want to be given the benefit of the doubt?
The only defining characteristics that the authorities provided were that I was a 5'11", 135 lb. African American male between the ages of 30 and 42. I had brown eyes and black hair with a beard and mustache to match. Lying face down in the rear of the warehouse with scars from track marks on my right arm, who knows what else could have happened to me? Please help uncover the truth and discover my name. I would really like to get rid of the label John Doe.

If you have any other information about this case please contact:
Miami-Dade Medical Examiner
303-545-2400
Agency Case number 1997-1593

View his profile data here:  Miami Dade Florida John Doe July 1997

Monday, December 21, 2015

Late summer 1979



My name is Tina, and I’m from the state of Ohio. That’s what I told my friends in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. We all hung out at the beach. Can you blame us? It’s Florida and the ocean is beautiful. Summer 1979, I’m in my twenties, I have my entire life ahead of me. Why not spend my time at the beach?

Well, I thought I had my whole life ahead of me. Then I met someone who stole my future, my life. I was killed at the hands of a homicidal maniac. I was strangled and left for dead in a wooded lot in the rural area of Miami-Dade, Florida.

Rumor has it that I might have been known on the beach by the name Sheeba. So, that’s what the local cops reported. Then this other young lady came forward and said that I was a runaway from Ohio. I told her my name was Tina.

AgainI tell you Ohio or Florida, where would you want to spend your twenties, the prime of your life? For me, it was Florida. It doesn’t matter if I ran away from Ohio, or if I made it up. I ended up on the beach in Fort Lauderdale until some ruthless monster took my life.

Sunny beaches and me with my strawberry blonde hair, gray-green eyes, and long legs (5'8"); Who could ask for more? Oh wait, I could. I mean living my twenties on the beach was great, but what was next? I could have had a long, loving life with a husband and children, maybe even a career. I never got that chance. I never got to see what came after my beach days. No, it all ended on September 4, 1979. I was wearing a white T-shirt, floral scarf, and long blue jeans.


So before I came to play on the beaches of Fort Lauderdale, I ran away. Most likely, I ran from the state of Ohio. Someone out there knows who I am. Someone out there must remember me. My friends from high school? Neighbors from the street I grew up on? Churches, social clubs, maybe even local cops from my old hometownsomeone somewhere out there knows who I am. Please call these people and tell them my name. It’s time for me come home.

If you have information about me, please call:

Miami-Dade County Medical Examiner District 11,
Number One Bob Hope Road,
Miami, FL 33136-1133,
(305) 545-2400, (305) 545-2412 Fax
Case #1979-2413, NCIC # U154194129,

View her profile data here: Miami Dade Florida Jane Doe September 1979

Monday, December 14, 2015

Margaret Doe from California



                It was right around the holidays and I was thinking of all the goodies I wanted to make.  I brought out all of my cookbooks and flipped through the worn pages as I tied on my apron to begin the festive baking.  I love how the aroma and the warmth spread throughout my home.  I wondered how many I should make this year.  I wondered if anyone would come visit me.
                I just had to lay down for a moment, but unfortunately, I never woke up.  I had been there quite a while until someone found me, quite a long while indeed.  When they discovered me, I had been dead for about six months to a year.  Maybe no one could make it over for a visit during that time.  Maybe my children were all too busy with their own lives.  Did I even have children?  Maybe my caregiver was tired of taking care of me and didn’t think anyone would notice.  No one did.
                Whoever it was that finally found me lying on the sofa decided it was best to roll me up in a tarp and discard me on the side of the road.  What would make someone do that?  Did they want the money I received every month?  Did they need it that badly?  Was it someone I knew? Was it someone too afraid to call for help?
                My body was discovered in May of 2015 in Corcoran, California, in King's County.  They found my remains at 6th Avenue and Homeland Canal.  I may have been from a surrounding city like Hanford or Selma or Farmersville.  I may have been from somewhere even farther, like Bakersfield or Modesto, and they drove me to a remote town where no one knew me. 
                I was wearing black yoga pants and a light-colored top.  I was Caucasian and stood between 5’0”  and 5’6”.  I had short blonde hair with remnants of gray.  I was 60 to 70 years old.  My bones were frail, but that's just what happens with age.  Is my family looking for me?  Did they do this to me?  Please help me find the answers.  Do you know me?

If you have any information about this person, please contact:

King's County Sheriff's Office
1444 W Lacey Blvd
Hanford, CA  93230
559-852-2804

View her profile data here:  Kings California Jane Doe May 2015