Thank you for posting these things & shining the light of day on this botched investigation.
As a 12-year old, I lived two blocks west of Greenfield right off of 12 Mile Rd.
On many occasions I either rode my bike or walked to the 7-11 where Kristine Mihelich was last seen, Her disappearance is something that has always hit home with me because I have to wonder how I was lucky enough to make it home safely all of those times, and she was not.
To find out now that Kristine Mihelich was seen post-abduction is a bombshell. Worse is the fact that the person who reported it was summarily dismissed back in 1977.
I remember at the time that the police, through news outlets, were begging for tips that could lead them to the killers. I am appalled that the tips and things that you have brought to light were dismissed by the “investigators” as not important, unreliable or even worse, ignored.
It is now more evident than ever to me that this investigation was botched so badly that the police will never find the perpetrators or solve this case.
I do agree with a previous poster to your blog, that there are people out there who know who the killers are and I hold out hope that at some point they come forward to add closure to your family as well as the others.
Bless you Cathy…..& keep kicking ass!
If this is true, and he had the child go into a lobby thinking it was safer than the convenience store, then he must live nearby and frequented the restaurant often. Where else could a person buy cigs there back then?
All excellent points, T.B.
Thank you, Cathy!
I had a thought. My head is still hurting, but, I’ll post it anyway:
I recently had to have a vehicle repaired and while I was looking for a place to unload the rental car I noticed a dumpster at a laundry mat in the area. I swooped in to unload the debris when I noticed a vehicle which appeared to be the same year as mine. The only problem was, the color was richer. I noted a rusted area near the rear, but all the paint looked great.
He was sitting there toking on his fag when I approached from the side. I asked, “What year is this?” Without looking sideways, he said, “I don’t know.” (What kind of guy is this that doesn’t even know the year of his own vehicle?!!) I went on my way.
Got mine out, sickened by the fact the new paint looked much deeper than the old, I shrugged it off and said, “Great job!” It was all they could do. He had mixed his own and it was close. He rushed it so I wouldn’t have to spend anymore on rental car. About two days later, it was a perfect match! Wow! He’s a pro! All that and straitening the frame that no one would have believed such a crash would have caused that much damage-not even myself-until a bolt came out of my seat a few days later. Perhaps that is what softened the blow.
But, while thinking about the rude-dude at the laundromat, my mind went back to the 70s when many a time we spent doing laundry, pushing carts around, tugging heaving baskets to and fro. There were vending machines that dispensed pops, chips and candy, and yes, even a cigarette machine.
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