No Place to Hide

By Mary Dimond

What began innocently enough is a prime example of trafficking. Young girls flattered into becoming a hostage for the sake of sexual pursuit. Many of them are 12 or 13 years of age!
Trafficking is a form of Modern Day Slavery. Many girls fall into becoming a victim to this criminal activity. Being pressured into a sex act is just the beginning.

DO NOT FALL PREY TO A STRANGER. What could start out as a boyfriend/girlfriend situation could turn dangerous very quickly.

AVOID THE PLOY : Oh, you are so pretty... and then there is the I could get you a job being a model

DONT ALLOW ANYONE TO TOUCH YOU ... BE SUSPICIOUS IF YOU DONT KNOW THIS PERSON.

... and youve heard this before from your Mom, teachers, etc., DONT ACCEPT A RIDE WITH STRANGERS.

REPORT TO ANY ADULT WHOM YOU ARE COMFORTABLE WITH, IF ANY OF THE ABOVE HAPPEN TO YOU. remember, the police are always there to help. Even use 911. The Ohio State Patrol Intelligence Unit at 1-866-678-8477.




Remember, you will NOT be in any trouble if you seek help and tell the truth. Confide in someone or call the police. You can ask to speak to a female officer, dont hesitate.


Never lie when explaining your situation. One lie will lead to another and another.

Although statistics dont show males falling victim to trafficking, but it is not out of the question. Gender does not mean girls/women alone.

Know that you are loved, yes by many people working to irradiate this horrible, devastating crime.

BE AWARE... BE SMART ...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 16, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483677972

Mary Dimond

Mary Dimond is a published author with Xlibris. She has been married for 46 years to John who endured her constant typing (tongue in cheek). Mary is a retired lieutenant with Columbus Police Reserves and supports the work of the Dominican Sisters of Peace who also work to eradicate trafficking by holding seminars, sponsor SOAP programs, etc. The profits from the sale of this/these book(s) will benefit the efforts of the Dominican Sisters of Peace, 2320 Airport Drive, Columbus, Ohio 43219-2098

Book preview

Copyright © 2013 by Mary Dimond.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2013913805

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Rev. date: 08/12/2013

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris LLC

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

140191

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

DEDICATION

I dedicate this book to all those who help spread the word about trafficking and those who prosecute (Judges) and rid this world of such maggots!

To those who are courageous to tell their story either in book form or lectures, teachers, etc.

Thanks to the help of several police officer friends for allowing me to use their names, although fictitious, Sgt Ross for his technical advice regarding wires and Officer Dennis who helped in my decision to write this book.

Thanks to Ashley Dillon for proofreading the manuscript,

. . . and to you for buying and reading:

NO PLACE TO HIDE

CHAPTER ONE

When the sun came up, I buried my face in my pillow and pulled the blankets up over my head. I was still tired. I heard noises coming from the rest of the house. Mom getting skillets out and Dad scooting his chair into place. He would read the paper and drink coffee while Mom would fry the bacon and eggs. After hearing water in the shower I knew my older brother, Eddie, was up. I turned over, hoping mommy would think I was still asleep. The water stopped and Eddie began stomping into the kitchen, hair wet which made Dad yell and tell him to go dry it. Things were quiet for a few minutes but Mom opened the door to say, time to get up, precious! I gave a low groan and pulled the covers over me, as if I could escape another day of just being me.

Mom coaxed me to get up by fixing pancakes, and that worked. If ever there was a comfort food for me, it was pancakes. Dad left for work at a factory on the other side of town and Eddie caught the bus for high school. Me, I walked four blocks to middle school, rain or snow. I sometimes skipped or played don’t break your mother’s back and sometimes I sang my made up songs, no one close enough to listen anyway and I twirled around, sometimes I fell, but eventually I got to school.

Sixth grade was boring! There were only 24 students, fourteen girls and ten boys. The teacher was also boring and boring to look at. She wore thick glasses, her hair was done up in a bun and she wore a dark skirt and a white blouse almost every day. We said the Pledge of Allegiance and sat in our assigned seats. Our books were on the bookcase and we got them as instructed by Miss Evans. We were reprimanded if we did not bring our pencils and paper to class. We never wasted anything under her watchful eye. Sometimes I would drift off to sleep, dreaming I was a ballerina or movie star.

Miss Donna Capinger! a shrill voice woke me and I rubbed my eyes.

Sorry! I murmured.

Now, read the next page… she said sharply.

Sorry, I don’t know where we are, I was asleep. I began.

Everyone giggled as I tried to find the page to read.

page 35. she commented.

I wasn’t very good at reading, or any subject for that matter, but I gave it my best.

I must have been a teacher’s nightmare since I couldn’t keep up with the class. When I doodled on my paper, Ms. Evans would make me write: I will not waste paper in class fifty times. That’s a lot of writing, talk about wasting paper!

At lunch we either had to pay for a hot lunch or we had to bring our lunch in a brown paper bag and MUST have our name on it… ledigible… or whatever it was. We couldn’t afford hot lunch so my peanut butter sandwich, Ritz crackers and an apple, had to do. I sat next to Betsy, my friend, who would give me some of her cookies or a ho-ho donut sometimes. I guess I looked hungry or maybe pathetic eating the same thing every day.

Recess was always fun. Girls jumped rope and sometimes we played hopscotch. We would steal a piece of chalk from the ledge of the chalkboard and never got caught. The boys would throw a ball, or have races to see who was the fastest.

Day in and day out, school was the same. When I got home, my Mom had Ritz crackers with butter on them and a glass of milk. She didn’t ask much about my day as she was always busy cleaning or cooking. She worked nights and slept until I got home. Eddie was always going somewhere with someone, she never minded, but he always was home when Dad came from work and was ready to eat.

Mom, in her apron, and Dad, smelling of oily something… did not talk about much nor did they ask how we were doing in school. Dad watched the news while Mom cleaned the kitchen. I was expected to dry the dishes and usually I did a lousy job… smearing the towel on the plates, etc. I would be reprimanded and she told Dad I was never going to make anything of myself. Dad insisted I bring him a beer and he usually fell asleep in the chair.

Mom would take a nap before leaving for work at 10:00 PM. She caught the last bus. If she was late and missed it she would not be able to get to work. She worked the night shift at a Diner, Stan’s BBQ and needed the tips to help make ends meet. Sometimes she would bring home food that would have been thrown out, it was good!

Sometimes she brought pastries home, stale, but still good.

I would read a book, do a puzzle or homework until Dad told me to go to bed. He usually was in the shower and sometimes I just took my clothes