Vanished in Broad Daylight: Children Are the Future Never Forget

By Mark A. Bingaman

BABY-PROOFCHILDPROOFBULLETPROOF,
THE ROLE OF PARENTS HAS NEVER BEEN GREATER.


Roaming unabated, a serial pedophile spent every waking moment pacifying his inner demons. Combatting illicit sexual cravings, like self-medicating an incurable disease, required daily heavy doses of hardcore pornography.

A chilling account of an eight-year-old child kidnapped and brutally murdered. Rising up from a rural California town and striking back, a world-wide chase ensued for a sociopath gone mad.

No respecter of human rightsa childs life.

Leaving the United States and spanning half the globe, the hunt would never end until coming face-to-face with every parents worst nightmare.

A harrowing true-crime story grippingly told by a team of detectives left standing. The story of Maria Piceno is a testament of courage and faithunder fire.

This special child wouldnt go quietly into the night.

Out of lifes hardest lessons, comes unforgettable sweet tender moments. Anyone that has loved a childthis is a must read, no one can afford to miss. Youll never be the same:

WHEN TOUCHED BY A CHILD

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781481743693

Book preview

© 2013 by Mark A. Bingaman. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 06/03/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4817-4371-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-4370-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-4369-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013907596

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Part One

Tears From Heaven

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Part Two

Child Predator

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Part Three

Stalemate

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Part Four

One Fight—One Mission

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Part Five

Haunted

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Part Six

Make A Difference

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Part Seven

The People Of The State Of California

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Part Eight

Judgement Day

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Tribute

Author’S Addendum

Timeline

Notes

About The Author

Masquerading in different forms, travelling and wandering the land, are monsters. Even in small-town America, they’re deadly, invisible, lurking everywhere.

My family had recently moved to Kings County when tragedy struck.

With daughters of my own, residing in the immediate vicinity of Maria Piceno’s murder triggered terrifying moments. Paralyzed and spellbound, this once peaceful community came under siege.

Throughout the San Joaquin Valley, Maria wasn’t the first child kidnapped and destroyed, and regrettably, she wouldn’t be the last.

What started as one of California’s largest manhunts dwindled down to a small group of sheriff’s detectives, in an intense graphic account to stop a serial pedophile, a killer of children—dead in his tracks.

Teamwork, with a bulldog tenacity to avenge Maria’s murder, these warrior angels never quit.

In the never ending battle of pitting good against evil, could one child’s death serve as an indictment, exposing a criminal justice system, broken or dysfunctional at best?

You’re in for a can’t-put-it-down-kind-of-a-read.

Marilyn Thompson

Author—A Shepherd’s Tale

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

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E XEMPLIFYING PRINCIPLES OF honesty, fairness, and kindness, shall carry a young person all the days of their life without regret. No higher calling exists than the care and protection of children.

Donna Holmes. In defense of children everywhere, a modern-day warrior with unlimited courage under fire. Heaven has a special place for you!

Greg Lewis. The right detective called at the right time. Never surrendering when faced with extreme adversity—you made the difference! My deepest admiration and respect for defending the memory and life of a child.

Bill Landis. Forever part of the Boston Red Sox 1967 American League Champions. In difficult times, when Kings County Sheriff’s detectives needed strong support, you were there. A Hall of Famer in my book.

Tim Revious, Bill Noyes, Greg Lewis, Tom Wilcox, Tom Edmonds, Dave Putnam, Rick Bradford, Linda Briones, and Yvonne Gordon-Huffenberger, unquestionably, the Kings County Sheriff’s Investigative Team of the NINETIES.

Lupe Castaneda. A committed law enforcement professional, displaying empathy and sensitivity to the plight of victims, your fluency in both English and Spanish became invaluable. Thanks for leaning forward.

Rod Huckabay. From Kings County to Baghdad, Iraq, travelling Route Irish and many of the world’s most dangerous highways together—for he today who sheds his blood with me shall forever be my brother.

United States Army Colonels, Ed Lowe, Greg Vibber, and Christopher Walton, who stood vigil, safeguarding our way of life—

my deepest respect. Writing Maria’s story first began under your watch.

Craig Lovato. A DEA Agent who wouldn’t quit. "Hunting Marco Polo"—your legendary feats are why books are written. Encouraging Maria’s story to be told, "Partner’s to the future!"

Leon Schenck. The most talented G-Man I ever had the privilege of calling my friend. Serving together in a time and place of war—moments I’ll treasure.

United States Naval Lieutenant Tim Pasken—adventurer and photographer William F. Scolavino said it best when God made you. The height of your accomplishments will equal the depth of your convictions. Working together and leaving a lasting impression on America’s most dangerous enemies—sign me up again!

Juan Gil. Translating Spanish to English, the language of children is universal. Thank you.

Gerry Thompson. Whose noble example taught that life without integrity is no life at all. (Honored posthumously)

Marilyn Thompson. Insightful and committed, an editor who knew how to soften a cop’s rough edges—I’m deeply in your debt. Author of A Shepherd’s Tale, a Christmas story beautifully told and divinely inspired.

Martin and Nolan Eggert. If the next generation is anything like you, America is in good hands!

Jennifer Doyel. Taking the best of everyone’s ingredients, adding in many of your own, like icing to a cake, you brought a fresh sweet style. Thank you.

Stephanie Eggert. Because of your diligent research, tireless attention to detail, and invaluable input, the story of Maria Piceno will never be forgotten. I stand in awe of your many talents.

And to Brenda. The innocence of our own sweet child; her mother’s heart; mix in love and faith, sustained me throughout life’s greatest struggles.

Dedicated to my beloved daughter

Korin

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INTRODUCTION

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I NEVER PLANNED TO tell this story. Fifteen years had passed, but still, I couldn’t go there and relive those disturbing events. Friends, acquaintances, throughout the years, urged me to tell what really happened—the unvarnished truth.

It’s packed away deep inside, became my standard fallback line.

The words are in you, a colleague would say.

Caught up in another war—his message, both clear and disturbing. Men of honor stand up for those less fortunate, young and old, living or dead. The voice of reason seemed to say, Quit running. Don’t live a life of regret. Be of service to others. Do it now.

In Baghdad, Iraq, looking back at the United States, a time of immense conflict and struggle, under austere conditions, I finally came to terms. As a law enforcement officer and father, the death of this special child would never leave me.

Not then—not now.

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American families do a pretty good job protecting children inside the home and under their careful watch. But tragically, in public, most parents wouldn’t recognize a determined sexual predator in their midst.

The greatest lessons come from experience.

It teaches to look beyond the face that’s friendly, kind, engaging, likeable, and trusting. These innate qualities are nothing more than conventional weapons in a pedophile’s bag of tricks.

Pedophiles love to volunteer.

They serve in church youth groups, camp counselors, coach athletic teams, and so much more. Pedophiles gladly enlist, if the payoff means having close interaction with young children.

Roaming the United States, the number of sexual predators alone is staggering. Weighing the amount of pedophile-oriented pornographic material on the internet, this sickness, like a terminal disease, is multiplying exponentially.

The continuous pollution of an already sick mind becomes a breeding ground for violent sociopath(s) in search of molesting, and destroying a child.

Memorializing one child—one life, a heavenly angel or the littlest warrior earthbound on a divine mission. May the story of Maria Piceno, her short time on earth, bless and touch you.

MARIA JOANNA PICENO

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Badges gleaming with brilliance and luster, serve as a reminder that law enforcement is a noble calling. To my comrades-in-arms, whose relentless determination made the difference—I salute you! Take solace in the torment of our past and stand proud. The families of children we never met, that alone is payment enough.

Cmdr. (Ret.) Mark A. Bingaman

Kings County Sheriff’s Office

Commanding Officer, Investigations

A hundred years from now it will not matter what my bank account was, the sort of house I lived in, or the kind of car I drove . . . but the world may be different because I was important in the life of a child.

—Forest E. Witcraft

PART ONE

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TEARS FROM HEAVEN

CHAPTER

1

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One of the tests of leadership is the ability to recognize a problem before it becomes an emergency.

—Arnold Glasgow

I NSIDE A COLD, sterile, dingy autopsy room, unveiled on a metal examining table, the aftermath of unimaginable cruelty, beyond any parent’s worst nightmare.

Fixated from the start, spellbound, my fascination grew. Lying there, a child of God, kidnapped and brutally murdered. With heightened senses, an inexplicable presence radiated from this lifeless little girl like a protective shield. Instantaneously, an overwhelming commitment and devotion, an indelible connection bound us—withstanding even the bands of death.

Innocence and virtue, defiled, a life stolen, cried out for justice. She had been missing far too long. Drawing near, this slain child came with a tremendous weight and burden. Carried from this point forward, would feel like a backpack crammed with a hundred pounds of jagged pointed rocks.

A ruthless cold-blooded killer passing through, vile and loathsome left his permanent stain and mark. Hunting defenseless little children, an evil satanic force that never quits, openly mocks and jeers the lives he destroys.

Left up to my own choosing, squaring off against vicious sexual predators—parasites, lowest on the food chain of the human cesspool—would have never been my destiny.

But destiny, by master design, has its own unique way of calling up your number.

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March 27, 1995—nothing stood out, ordinary by day and seemingly uneventful by night. Spring, a beautiful time of year, blanketing the verdant productive land with the promise of new life.

Kings County, largely a rural farming community, home to many generational families, founded upon longstanding traditional values. The ripening crops of pistachios, almonds, kiwis, nectarines, peaches and plums brought transient workers in mass, adding greatly to the populace filling the valley floor. Broccoli and lettuce workers pouring in from Salinas, California—predictable as the sparrows returning each year to San Juan Capistrano. Cotton farming and cattle dairies, three California State Prisons and a U.S. Naval Air Station embraces multiethnic diversity.

Hanford, the county seat, its historic Courthouse Square is reminiscent of Hill Valley, a fictional town that served as the backdrop of Back to the Future. Annually, this region attracts encampments of Renaissance guilds from all over the state, offering authentic ambiance filled with entertainment. Armored knights engage in real hand-to-hand combat and historic buildings transformed into "Once upon a time" are set upon beautiful grounds.

For decades, Superior Dairy has been a legendary landmark. Placing Hanford on the map, a traditional ice-cream parlor straight out of the 1950s, filled with sentimental nostalgia. Returning year after year, loyal and satisfied customers generate universal appeal.

The California San Joaquin Valley, free from the congestion and the trappings of big urban cities, largely regarded as a safe haven to rear children. Community events take center stage, especially high school and college sports. The Hanford Sentinel, a local newspaper widely read for its opinion column, obituaries, and postings of classified ads represent the voice of the community.

The Pancake House played host to law enforcement regulars, downing mass amounts of coffee on the swing and graveyard shift. A slower pace of life, permeating every neighborhood, based on predictable outcomes, yielded an undeniable innocence.

In the worst of times, civilized societies turn to law enforcement personnel and expect them to right terrible wrongs. Like watchful sheepdogs, peace officers stand vigil, and rightly so, protecting its flock from those who would cause them the greatest harm. The greatest at risk, are always the young and defenseless.

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March 31, 1995—Friday, with the workweek winding down, Sheriff’s Captain Bill Landis ducked his head inside my office. In typical fashion, Mark, I need you to go over to Lemoore PD at 1600 hours and attend a briefing.

What’s the problem? I inquired.

I’m not sure, replied the boss. Something about a child missing and the sheriff wants an update.

Arriving at the Lemoore Police Department, filling the upstairs room, surprisingly, investigators gathered from surrounding areas. Had I known the meeting to be this high-powered, I would have brought along a few members of the team.

Law enforcement representatives from Hanford and Corcoran, California Highway Patrol, Kings County District Attorney’s Office, Gang Task Force, probation and state parole officers, detectives from Tulare County Sheriff’s Office and investigators as far south as Bakersfield.

With standing room only, I shuffled towards the back and started jotting down notes.

March 27, 1995—Maria Joanna Piceno, eight-years-old, had disappeared. Described as Hispanic, four-feet, five-inches, sixty-five pounds, brown eyes, she had long dark hair and bangs. The child last wore a long-sleeve pink shirt, green pants, black polka dot design, and black shoes.

Reportedly, Maria asked her mother if she could walk down to the neighborhood grocery store and purchase a can of tuna for an afternoon snack. Within twenty to twenty-five minutes, having terrible misgivings, her mother set out on foot in search of her eldest daughter. From witness verification, Maria made it to the Food King grocery store.

Never seen or heard from again—the child vanished.

Naturally, investigators raised specific concerns over the mother’s credibility. They questioned the original story of allowing a young child to set out alone without adult supervision. In Kings County, on any given day, often unattended, small children in every community could be seen running and playing.

Focusing on the mother’s story would certainly take top priority. Until specific events checked out, she would remain a person of strong interest.

When a child is missing, the mortal enemy is time. Unfortunately, the Lemoore child had been missing for four days.

Tragically, the child’s fate may have already been decided.

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Running a sheriff’s investigative unit, detectives kept up with reports of missing children in nearby counties. Adjacent to Kings County, to the east, Tulare County, its majestic backyard embraces the Grand Sierra Mountains, home to Giant Redwood Trees.

One year earlier, March of ’94, at a Visalia swap meet, ten-year-old Angelica Ramirez disappeared. Near the farming community of Pixley, about twenty-five miles away, Angelica’s body discovered dumped in a canal.

Dating back to 1987, other valley children had disappeared. Three-year-old Deisy Herrera, near the city of Bakersfield, California, had been playing outside her home in the front yard. She disappeared and never heard from again.

May 10, 1990—outside her family’s Bakersfield apartment, four-year-old Jessica Martinez played. Eleven days later, in a cotton field some fifteen miles away, a field worker unearthed her tiny body.

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October 1, 1993—extremely disturbing for Californians, involved the abduction and murder of Polly Klaas. Convicted murderer Richard Allen Davis smiled when sentenced to death for murdering the Klaas child. Polly’s father, Marc Klaas, declared, "The smile proved that the man who embodies the boogeyman of every parent’s worst nightmare is a real-life monster. It’s sad that someone would be so emotionally bankrupt that they would be smirking as their own death sentence was being read to them. The justice system did not fail my daughter again… It doesn’t bring our daughter back into our lives, but it gets one monster off the streets."

January 13, 1996—in Arlington, Texas, nine-year-old Amber Hagerman, abducted while riding her bicycle.

Instead of proactively taking the fight to the perverted and demented, the bodies of murdered children stacked up before U. S. government officials engaged. Not until February 2002, did the Federal Communications Commission finally endorse the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children campaign promoting the "Amber Alert."

But for Maria Piceno, the year, 1995, and the Amber Alert for missing children didn’t exist. The best known law enforcement practices of the day involved sending out BOLOs (Be On Look Out) to nearby surrounding areas.

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The law enforcement briefing ended Friday afternoon without resolution. Returning to the office, quizzed over the child’s disappearance from the sheriff, the session left more questions than answers.

With rising public concern for the missing Lemoore child, the sheriff interceded and committed detectives along with available patrol deputies to aid in the search.

April 1, 1995—Saturday morning, five days since Maria Piceno vanished.

As a team, sheriff’s detectives arrived early and proceeded to the Lemoore Fire Department being manned by community volunteers.

Kings County Probation officers, gang task force members, narcotics officers, patrolmen, sheriff’s deputies, representatives from Kings County Child Protection Services, social case workers, counselors, victim-witness coordinators, even state parole agents, had been summoned. Members of California Highway Patrol, state prison officials, and criminal investigators representing both northern and southern California added to the mix.

The law enforcement gathering, among local, county, and statewide agencies, became a regular Who’s Who. It wouldn’t be complete until members of the FBI came marching through the door with a show of force. The feds brought with them around fifteen to twenty agents and more would be called up if needed.

In spite of the impressive organizational gathering, off balance and thwarted from the onset—law enforcement personnel struggled. Stymied by power seekers within the ranks, the quest for supremacy interfered with the tasking of dedicated law enforcement foot soldiers.

The county sheriff, like the captain of a ship, offered senior leadership and direction. Not to be outdone, local politicians making their rounds, glad-handing and garnering public support under the guise of community solidarity.

Commanding the largest army of field agents, it wasn’t long before the FBI stepped up to the podium and took charge. If the disappearance of Maria Piceno involved a stranger abduction, it only made sense having the feds take the lead. After all, they had the resources and presumably the expertise to provide effective leadership and direction.

The magnitude of this investigation quickly exceeded any small town type of policing. With each passing hour, the massing of one of California’s largest manhunts steadily grew. Captivating the news and every media outlet within several hundred miles featured the search for a missing Lemoore child.

Kathy Deperi and Diane Harrison from the Adam Walsh Center representing America’s Most Wanted Missing Children answered the call.

Volunteers from church groups, school officials, youth organizations, nonprofit organizations, military personnel, and other community programs overnight, had formed a small army. Operationally, it became a logistical nightmare simply to feed and provide basic creature comforts of life.

Overwhelmed by calls, the Veteran’s Hall building in Lemoore became an ideal place for the command center. Neighborhood watch captains wasted little time setting up, and soon busy at their workstations organizing and directing search activities. Volunteers of every age paired up and began combing surrounding fields and ditches.

K-9 dog units, including a bloodhound, patrolled nearby fields and waterways. Expanding the foot search to over 480-square miles became a massive undertaking.

Soon, Maria’s disappearance expanded into a nation-wide manhunt and then went internationally. FBI agents travelled south of the border to Penjamo, Guanajuato, Mexico, questioning relatives.

With the outpouring of support Deperi said, I have never seen anything like this.

Anticipating that community support would eventually begin suffering emotionally, Pam Tejada from Charter Behavioral Health Systems in Lemoore advised that counselors would be accessible. Lemoore Elementary School officials reassured Lemoore residents that counselors would be provided to any child showing signs of distress.

Adam Walsh Center Safety Expert, Peter Caruso, told Lemoore residents, Communication is the single most important element in keeping kids safe. Addressing a group of Lemoore children, Caruso said, The biggest thing you can do is talk to Mom and Dad. Never go any place without stopping and thinking—will Dad and Mom know where I’m at?

Caruso reminded parents that even the most intelligent youngster can be tricked by a clever adult. Strangers use tricks. They’ll tell you they’ve got candy, ask you if you want to pet a dog or a cat… It’s so easy to trick a child, Caruso said. The toughest job—if it’s done right—is being a parent. If you do it right, it’s the most rewarding job in the world.

The strain of this crisis marked only the beginning, a foreshadowing of looming storms of incalculable proportion. Dark and ominous clouds, pushing their way inland from the Pacific Ocean, filled the skies with fits of anger. Forces of nature swelled and swirled with increasing velocity and strength.

The universe may have already been mourning the loss of innocent life.

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CHAPTER

2

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The abduction of a child is a tragedy. No one can fully understand or appreciate what a parent goes through at such a time, unless they have faced a similar tragedy. Every parent responds differently. Each parent copes with this nightmare in the best way he or she knows how.

—John Walsh

L EMOORE’S POLICE CHIEF, Bob Carden, his rite of passage as the new top cop, must have felt like baptism under fire. Often huddled in backroom strategy sessions with Sheriff Marvin, quelling community unrest proved increasingly difficult—especially when a child is missing.

Inside the command center, a room set off to the side—the think tank. Joining a small group of local and federal investigators, compulsory placement had me confined to a reactionary process in place. Coordinating the search effort for Maria Piceno, a top-down-driven management system, dictated the pulse and direction.

With leads pouring in, arranging stacks of information into some form of recognizable order, the FBI knew how to decipher organizational chaos. Brought in to aid in the search, state-of-the-art computers utilized in the nationally acclaimed Unabomber case. Generating vast amounts of information, in the shortest amount of time—is the name of the game in kidnapping cases.

Every lead coming into the think tank would be evaluated, prioritized, and then color coded. With a tonnage of new information, like shades of a rainbow, FBI’s colors started brightening the room. Hot leads, important leads, medium leads, less significant leads, separated much of the paperwork.

File categories for sex registrants and parolees living within a hundred mile radius, began taking on a life of its own. Within surrounding and outlying areas, in excess of 1500 sex offenders with differing degrees of sophistication and intelligence posed endless possibilities.

Activating the hotline number, phones started ringing off the hook. Beyond the state of California, a nationwide media blitz now aired Maria Piceno’s picture. Inside the think tank, secretaries rushed back and forth with stacks of lead sheets. Quickly, investigators reviewed incoming tips, assigned a color code distinction to the message, and never looked back.

Before long, declared psychics started calling into the taskforce center, demanding equal consideration. Reports of Maria taken by family members, gypsies, even witches, added to the growing stacks. Told to look underneath a specific bridge, a canal, in another state, self-appointed seers and revelators loved dialing in, hoping to get lucky.

Investigators, at all times of the day and night, flooded Maria’s mother, Arcelia Ferrel, with endless questions. The poor woman had lost her child, couldn’t speak English, intimidated, and obviously frightened from all the drama.

Eight days—elapsed since Maria disappeared…

When any child is missing, immediate family members must be quickly confirmed or rejected from the list of potential suspects. The FBI’s initial approach with Ms. Ferrel may have been less than subtle, but up against the clock, time means everything. With the feds, there wouldn’t be any mincing of words.

When asked, Maria’s mother voluntarily agreed to submit to a polygraph examination. Escaping the media frenzy in Lemoore, transported to the Kings County Sheriff’s Office in Hanford, Ms. Ferrel submitted to be tested without reservation.

Showing no signs of deception, word quickly spread that Arcelia Ferrel passed the polygraph convincingly.

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Another family member became a strong person of interest. In Nevada, Arcelia’s estranged husband and biological father of Maria, verified to be locked up inside the Washoe County Jail, over some drug violation. Identified as Jorge Perroso, and going by other aliases, quickly, the FBI prepared to head north with an investigative team.

Inside the Lemoore Command Center, sheriff’s detective Greg Lewis grew impatient. Wasting time chasing endless leads going nowhere went against his instinctual ability to investigate. Detective Lewis, never shied from work, but working hard—meant working smart.

Often coloring outside the lines, Lewis relied heavily upon intuition to guide his every move. He didn’t need computer generated lead sheets to do his thinking or directing his course of travel. Hunting men for a living, Detective Lewis needed freedom of mobility.

Sheriff’s detectives favored a working environment that encouraged forward thinking and autonomy. It went against their grain to be placed in a kneejerk reactionary mode, expected to run out and handle an FBI lead sheet—having little to do about nothing.

Detective Lewis didn’t own the exclusive rights on frustration…

Inside the think tank, stuck, out of my element, lost in a quagmire of bureaucratic processes in place. Shuffling endless paperwork from one pile to the next, effectively sidelined, and expected to remain patient—never my strong suit.

Restricted to a room filled with stacks of dead-end riddles, instead of working alongside investigators in the field, stifled creativity. Caught up in competitions of years past, the title of sheriff’s lieutenant now served to imprison me. Seeking promotions as I had done turned out to be a career-ending mistake.

Trapped inside the Lemoore Command Center…

A child’s life at stake…

Team members rarely in sight…

Senses dulled…

I grew increasingly agitated.

Checking parking meters over the desk duty assignment would have been preferable. Never exploring the last known path the child had taken, or visiting the grocery store and surrounding businesses, totally reliant on what others reported, didn’t mesh with my temperament.

Sensing an opportunity to cut Detective Lewis loose, I made my move. Taking Greg off to the side, I said, There’s a heavy jacket inside my vehicle. Grab any gear you need and make tracks north with the FBI. You’re going to Nevada. Lewis didn’t have to be told twice. In time, someone might realize Sergeant Tim Revious had been sent as well.

Inside Washoe County lockup, FBI agents made contact with Maria’s father. Following the ancestry trail to Sparks, Nevada, the search continued. Assessing several possibilities, a quick determination that parental or family abduction of Maria Piceno appeared an unlikely scenario.

If family members didn’t have her—then where was Maria?

If kidnapped, the motive couldn’t be for financial gain. Arcelia Ferrel, a single parent of modest means, probably struggled to provide the basic essentials for her children. Maria’s father proved to have limited interaction with his estranged family.

When initially canvassing the neighborhood store, Maria’s intended destination netted positive results. Edna Newton, a cashier clerk at Food King identified Maria from a photograph. During the afternoon of March 27th, she remembered the little girl coming through her line. An audit of the store’s cash register receipts confirmed at 3:20 p.m., a purchase made for one can of tuna.

Another witness, Eric Douglas, recalled seeing Maria Piceno inside the Food King grocery store. Then about 4 p.m., inside the 99 Cent Store, next door to Food King, Mr. Douglas spotted Maria again. Looking at makeup and children’s toys, the child appeared content.

Her trail then turned cold…

Leads starting to dry up became especially troubling. At least with phones lighting up