We had a nice family, a nice new home, we were not wealthy. We did have good jobs, worked hard for what we did have. We were just a normal quiet family. We were not rich or famous, or anything noticeable that would warrant our nine year old to be kidnapped from our home, on a hot summer night back in 1993. So why did something so terrifying happen to us? What did we ever do to deserve it? This is part of my journals, that tell my story in my words. This story is how we coped, or not coped with something so horrifying that it changed our lives forever. This is my story good or bad, of what happened, the stress, the agony, the guilt of not being able to protect our children, of determination to set things right. We were a strong family that people said the odds were against us that we would survive. We did survive, and we came through it stronger than anyone expected. This story needed to be told to help other families know that there is help out there, where one never expected. That courage and all the positive things, someone never thought they had overcame all that was so very bad.