A Child is Missing: Searching for Justice

By Karen Beaudin

Brutally beaten, raped, strangled, and run over by a vehicle, 13-year-old Kathy Lynn Gloddy was left naked in the woods three miles from home on November 21, 1971. A Child is Missing: Searching for Justice is the result of six years of research and interviews conducted by Kathy’s sister, Karen Beaudin.

Still hunting for answers, Kare

• Language: English
• Publisher: AlyBlue Media
• Release date: Aug 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781944328740

Karen Beaudin

KAREN BEAUDIN is a married mother of three grown daughters who lives in Arizona with her husband. Over the years, Karen has been closely involved with those who worked on her sister's case. She hopes that A Child is Missing might be a tool in helping bring justice to Kathy, whose precious life was carelessly taken. The story of Kathy's murder has been broadcast on Fox News Boston, CNN, and ABC's 20/20.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Kathy took that dog everywhere, Lee Ann said. I’ll never forget her beautiful smile as she lifted up her arm and waved goodbye. Kathy slowly turned and walked away with her dog Tasha. Lee Ann was concerned. I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach and thought I’d never see her again.

The previous night, Kathy had talked to Lee Ann Beaupre and Ken Default about running away. Lee Ann thought it was because Kathy was unhappy. Your parents’ drinking and your mom’s gambling bothered her.

But Lee Ann didn’t know the deep burdens Kathy was carrying. Running away was a friend’s idea, not hers. She didn’t want her friend to go alone, so Kathy told her classmate she’d go with her. The night was cold, and a storm was on its way. By morning, there would be snow. Not prepared to leave, Kathy talked her friend into waiting for a better time. They would plan their escape another day—escape from someone evil.

I was supposed to go with her that night, Lee Ann said. Not to run away, but to walk with her and meet up with some friends. But when I asked my mom if I could go, she said no. We always ate around six thirty or seven, and I wouldn’t be home in time for dinner.

Maybe if I had gone with her that night, she wouldn’t have been murdered, Lee Ann said.

I’m sorry you feel that way, I told her. So many of us carry guilt, thinking we could have changed what happened to her that cold November night. I’ve walked through that day hundreds of times and looked for ways I might have made a difference. You can’t change what happened to her, but you can stand up for her and tell law enforcement what you know.

Lee Ann continued, When I heard the next day that a young girl’s body was found, I knew it was her. Don’t ask me how. I just did. I could see the sadness in her eyes as she spoke, emptiness in her soul that she didn’t know how to fill.

Did you know where she was going that night? I asked.

Yes, she said.

Did the police ever question you in 1971 about that night?

No, she replied.

I was so upset about Kathy’s murder my mom took me to see our doctor. He prescribed medication to help me cope with her death. Every November since her murder, I have to increase the dosage. That was puzzling. Why, after all these years, would she be struggling like that? Maybe she knows more and can’t handle the truth, or she just wants to forget that dreadful night.

We continued to talk, and it was obvious even after forty years this woman was deeply affected by Kathy’s murder. There were things she didn’t want to remember, couldn’t remember, like others I had talked to. I could relate in the opposite way.

There were things I didn’t want to remember but couldn’t forget.

I wish I could find my diary, she told me. Kathy had one too. Hers was blue, and mine was red. She kept hers upstairs in your garage hidden in some boards. I remembered the police looking for a diary in our house in 1971. To my knowledge, they never found one. Kathy liked to write poetry. I could see why she would have a diary. It was an instrument to write her thoughts and secrets in—secrets she didn’t want to share with anyone.

I’ve had dreams about her, Lee Ann said. The first time was in November 2012 and several times since then. I was out on an old porch somewhere. The house was gray and white. I opened the front door. Sitting at the kitchen table was my grammy and two of my aunts. My mother was at the sink, washing dishes. I turned my head, and Kathy was sitting in a nice cozy chair, holding a book. ‘I love and miss all of you so much,’ I said. I began to walk through the door, and they yelled, ‘No! It’s not your time.’ I asked Kathy what happened to her, and she told me we would find out soon. I started to cry, and they consoled me, saying they were always with me. My mother wanted to touch me, but she couldn’t. They told me it was time to leave. ‘We love you,’ they said. As I turned, they told me I would see them again.

Kathy’s murder robbed a community of feeling secure. It stripped children of their innocence and trust. Parents became fearful and took measures to protect them. But most of all, it destroyed any hope for a normal life for my family and a lost future with a beautiful young girl we called Kathy.

CHAPTER TWO

At 11:07 p.m. on November 21, 1971, my mom, Lucielle Gloddy, from 12 East High Street, spoke to Patrolman Robert Brown at the Franklin Police Department. My daughter Kathy is missing. She’s thirteen. She left the house at five in the afternoon and hasn’t been seen since. I came home at nine thirty, and she wasn’t here. It’s not like her to stay out this late.

What is her birth date? Brown asked.

February 13, 1958. She described Kathy, and a report was sent to the Tilton Police Department, all Franklin units, and the Northfield Police Department. The report said, White female, age thirteen, date of birth February 13, 1958. Approximately five feet two inches tall, weighs ninety-seven pounds, brown shoulder-length hair, and brown eyes. She was last seen wearing a pale-blue ski parka and blue jeans. At five minutes before midnight, Brown notified the state police in reference of the Gloddy girl gone missing. A twenty-four-hour general alarm was put in place.

On November 22, 1971, at 9:05 a.m., Sergeant Ben St. Jacques from the Franklin Police Department called WFTN radio station and reported Kathy missing. The radio station was given a description of her and listeners were asked to call the police station if anyone had information.

At 9:08 a.m., Mrs. Gloddy called to find out if there was any information on the whereabouts of her daughter, Kathy Lynn Gloddy. Is there any news yet? Has anyone seen her?

Sergeant St. Jacques replied, Not yet.

Frantic and anxious about news, Mom said, I’m going to call WFTN myself and plead with anyone who might have information to call you.

Kathy wore a light blue three-quarter-length ski parka with knitted cuffs, size medium. Her pants were an old bell-bottomed jean with a button-down fly. They were children’s size fourteen. She had black ankle boots with a strap and buckle, size seven. They had an imitation sealskin color and brown and white inside. The boots were bought at JM Fields in Concord, New Hampshire.

Her cotton blouse was light blue, long sleeved and buttoned down in the front. The cuff on the right sleeve of the blouse was torn. Her belt was one and half inches wide, woven leather, brown with a brass buckle. Her undergarments were a white bra, size 34A, and white plain panties. Kathy also had knee-high socks on—the only clothing on her body when she was found. The murderer took the rest, leaving her naked in the woods with temperatures at nineteen degrees.

As I wrote the words describing the clothes Kathy had on the night she was murdered, my throat tightened. I can picture her in the clothing described. The vision of her was haunting. A great sadness crept in.

At 9:43 a.m., Sergeant St. Jacques requested Jane Sylvestre to come to the station. She was supposed to know something about where Kathy was. The questioning my sister Janet and I did at St. Mary’s School prompted this request. Jane went to the police station at 9:55 a.m. She was thirteen, the same age as Kathy. We were supposed to run away together, Jane said. This was the same story she told a nun at St. Mary’s School.

The nun explained to us, Take everything Jane has to say with a grain of salt. She’s known to make up stories. Sadly, I don’t believe she was making up the story. There were reasons Kathy and Jane talked about running away. I feel badly that people didn’t take her more serious.

Jane continued to tell Sergeant St. Jacques, Kathy was going to meet me in the woods by my house. I live in the second house on the right after the Franklin Dairy Bar.

Another person questioned was Charles Bell Jr., age forty-three, owner of Bell’s Variety Store. On Sunday, November 21, at about 5:30 p.m. Kathy entered his store. Jay McDuffee from the Democrat did an interview with Mr. Bell.

I was watching a football game on the television when she came in. He remembers Tasha, Kathy’s German shepherd, waiting outside. She always had the dog with her at night. Kathy came in frequently to buy candy. She was just a nice little girl. Some of the kids who come in here are wise, but I never heard her swear or ever say a thing out of the way. She was a real tomboy. I feel bad that this was the last place she stopped.

According to reports, after Kathy left Bell’s Variety, Timmy Connifey entered the store. His family lived in our neighborhood, and his sister Margie was my best friend in high school. Timmy was one of the last people to see Kathy alive. Does that knowledge haunt him?

Kathy’s next stop was the Franklin High School. Nanette Beaudry saw her at approximately 6:30 p.m. in front of the building. There was a sports banquet that night, and she was helping to set up and serve, the very banquet I attended as a cheerleader.

Kathy knew I was there that night, but I didn’t know until after she was murdered that she was seen walking in front of the high school. This is one of my what-if moments—the moments we live with after someone we know has been murdered. If I had seen her that night, maybe things would have been different.

In November, the Manchester Union Leader reported that Kathy was last seen outside the Franklin Public Library on Main Street about 8:30 p.m. Another report said she was last seen walking down Main Street in Franklin around seven thirty or eight o’clock in the evening. I’ve never been able to confirm this information.

It wasn’t until the following day Kathy went missing that we found out what happened to her. It was unexpected, unimaginable, and the most shocking news my family has ever received.

On November 22, at approximately 1 p.m., Alfred Mondor, age sixty-three, of Mascoma Road, Franklin, New Hampshire, found my sister. I noticed this object on the ground. It looked like a small gutted deer. I walked up farther and noticed it was a body. Mr. Mondor left his home on November 22 at noon. He went to the Franklin Plaza and into the Brooks Store. His next stop was at Armand’s Gulf Station, where he made an appointment to have his car winterized. He then went to the post office in West Franklin where he bought eight stamps costing eight cents apiece and checked to see if he had mail.

From there, he took the left going up Webster Street, past the Philipps 66 gas station. About three quarters of a mile to a mile, I took a dirt road. When I turned onto this road, I noticed an object that looked like a small gutted deer. I walked a little closer and noticed it was a body. I took two steps beyond the body and noticed that the head was covered with blood as though it had been bashed in. Realizing what I came upon, I got into my truck and drove home. I continued home on the same road to the junction of Carr Street, turned up Carr Street, and came out on Webster Highway to my house, which is on the corner. It took me about ten to fifteen minutes to get there. I didn’t turn around because it would have been an inconvenience as it was hard to find a place to turn around. I went into the house and called for my son-in-law, Alphonse Cote, who lives in the same house with me. I told him what I had seen and to call the Franklin Police Department.

Alphonse Cote called the police and asked for Sergeant Ben St. Jacques. He explained to St. Jacques what his father had seen. Police Chief James Nowell and Sergeant St. Jacques left the police station knowing it had to have been the young girl who was reported missing the night before.

When the police got to the house, Alphonse and Mr. Mondor got into the backseat of the cruiser and took the police to the crime scene. We walked up, and St. Jacques walked in about the same footprints as before. We didn’t go beyond our previous footsteps. After we showed them where the young girl was, Alphonse and I walked back down to the road.

Cote and Mondor must have been in shock. As they stood on the road, what did they talk about? Did they discuss how her naked body looked like a gutted deer? Did they know a young girl was missing the night before? Did they realize it was Kathy? Their lives would never be the same after viewing her body—lifeless, bloody, and naked on that cold November day.

At 3 p.m. on Monday, November 22, 1971, Mr. Mondor gave a statement to Chief James Nowell. Also present was Sergeant Kenneth MacDonald and Corporal Roland Desjardins of the state police. Mr. Mondor, who I’m sure was still trying to absorb what had happened the previous day, gave a formal testimony.

Why did you go on that particular road, Mr. Mondor?

Last Saturday, November 20, around two thirty in the afternoon, I was on my way home from the dump in Andover. I met my son-in-law Alphonse. He was walking. I drove up old route 11 when I noticed a white object on the left side of the road in a field. Beyond the object is a wooded area. I parked my car on the right-hand side just beyond a dirt road where the body was. I found a swivel chair and carried it to my truck and put it in the back.

It sounded like the area Kathy’s body was found was a dumping ground for things not wanted.

Did Mondo live in fear after seeing such a horrific sight? Was he afraid someone would find out he discovered the body and that he possibly might know more? Images like that are never forgotten. To protect him as a witness, the police never released Mondor’s name.

PEACE

While their son is in the war,

His family will see him no more.

He is shot and is dying,

while his family is home crying.

What we need now is a little white dove,

because peace is the thing we need more of.

But why does this happen?

Why don’t they care?

Don’t they all know that it’s here and it’s there?

BY KATHY LYNN GLODDY

1971

CHAPTER THREE

Dr. Roland H. Beaudry did the preliminary coroner’s report. Beaudry was deeply affected by what he saw that night. A doctor would understand the pain Kathy had experienced before her death. The blows she received would tell him part of the story. This troubled him for the rest of his life. He had daughters, and the thought of something like that happening to them was terrifying.

The preliminary report indicated Kathy had received a severe blow in the abdomen, which split her bladder and ruptured her liver. There was little internal bleeding from the injuries to the neck. Dr. Beaudry determined the cause of death was strangulation. She was probably stripped, beaten, and immediately strangled. She had a massive skull fracture, four inches by five inches about the right ear. This would be the result of constantly being clubbed with some type of instrument that does not absorb easily.

He would have to wait on the autopsy report done by Dr. Katas for