“Mother’s plea for Tim’s safety”–Lead Headline in The Sunday Detroit News

Ok, second attempt.

March 20, 1977

The following letter to the public–and to the kidnapper of her 11-year-old son–was given to a Detroit News reporter Saturday by Mrs. Marian [sic] King of Birmingham.  Her son, Timothy, has been missing since Wednesday night.

I am expecting at any moment for the side door to bang open and hear Tim say ‘Have we ate yet?  I mean, have we had dinner yet?

When that happens, I will run for his favorite Kentucky Fried Chicken and mix his glass of Ovaltine.

Then, when he has had the usual eight Oreos and some plain milk to dunk them, Tim and I will go on our delayed shopping trip.  We had planned to buy a much-wanted light blue warmup suit with the money he has saved from his newspaper route.

Wherever Tim is, he is distressed about worrying me.  He has always left notes or called to tell me where he is.  He is impatient to return to rehearsing for his role as ‘Mike TV’ in the upcoming production of ‘Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory’ at Adams School.

He is also eager to play on his basketball team, try out for Little League and his new career as a soccer player.

There are no words to express how much we all miss Tim.  We can hardly wait to see him, hug him and hear his latest collection of jokes.

It is my hope that Tim is not frightened or hungry and that his cold is not any worse.

I appeal to all of you from the bottom of my heart–help bring him home to us very soon.  Do whatever you can to help find him, and call the Birmingham police with any possible information which might be useful.

We are overwhelmed at the outpouring of love and support from neighbors, friends and concerned persons.

The magnificent efforts of the Birmingham police and their associates from all of Michigan are beyond any expectations.

We are eagerly anticipating Tim’s safe arrival.  Someone, please, give him all our love until we can do that ourselves.

Tim’s autopsy three days later would reveal that he had eaten chicken shortly before his death.  He was buried on March 26 in a light blue warmup suit.

So, when weasels like Charles Busch, Larry Wasser, James Feinberg, Vince Gunnels and others (some in law enforcement) complain bitterly about how hard the past few years have been and how much they have “gone through” since leads in the case have surfaced, I have no sympathy.  Even if they think in their heart of hearts that Chris Busch was in no way involved, why did they play unnecessary games?  Why didn’t they just man-up?  Why did you fuck around in the district court and the court of appeals?  And as for those who victimize children and then do whatever they can to hide their sickness, and those who did whatever they could to preserve these animals’ “reputations”–they are the worst kind of cowards.  My Mom was a thousand times stronger than any of these people.

Paranoia or History Repeating Itself?

I am just going to put this out there.  I have been having serious computer troubles since the article about my blog appeared in The Birmingham Eccentric.  I just was unable to post an entry I spent a fair amount of time on–and it got lost in the ether instead of going where these mis-fires usually go–to the draft file.  These are the kind of computer issues I had a few years ago when I was communicating with an author about the Fox Island pedophile ring.  She had worse computer issues during that time on her pc, as did one of her sources.  Big Brother and the Thought Police all wrapped into one.  These are not typical computer issues, certainly not for a Mac.

My brothers and I often “joke” that there is no need to contact the MSP, the OCP or the FBI about anything since they are already reading our texts and emails.  I know this sounds incredibly paranoid.  I am also betting monied and “upstanding” men associated with pedophile rings back in the day would not hesitate to retain a hacker.

There are a number of very suspicious suicides associated, at least tangentially, with this case.  This has caused my brothers and I, along with members of another victim’s family members to repeat to each other on occasion:  “I am not now, nor have I ever been, suicidal.  If I die any time soon, run a tox screen and ask a lot of questions.”  We laugh about it–but not that hard.

And, I am going to go back in and post the same damn thing that went into the ether a few minutes ago.  Give me 30 minutes.

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