And Never See Her Again (5 page)

Ricky Franks and his brothers were close, as he was with his stepbrother, Danny Doyle. Franks's natural brothers had watched out for Ricky most of his life. Slow in school, with an IQ of 65, in the range of borderline mental retardation, Ricky had been tagged a "retard" by his classmates and would complain, "They're calling me names. I'm an outcast."

"It just seems like the whole world picked on him," Bessie said.

Franks continued to attended special-education classes in Saginaw, eventually graduating from Northwest High School in nearby Justin.

Ricky Franks had held a number of minimumwage jobs, including cashier at a Golden Fried Chicken, carnival ride operator, and motorcycle mechanic. He had shown mechanical aptitude early, fixing flat bike tires and broken chains for other children in his neighborhood. But as an adult, Franks never lasted at one job for any extended amount of time, preferring to roam the streets and hang out with his brothers and, later, his wife. Franks had been evaluated as a hard worker when he worked, but most of his employers recognized that he had no desire to hold full-time employment, often making excuses for missing work.

In 1993, Ricky Franks's half sister introduced him to Judy Magby, and on October 28, 1994, twenty-five-year old Richard Lee Franks and thirty-five-year-old Magby were married. Judy stated they married, in part, because Ricky wanted to move out of his mother's house.

Judy took on the responsibility of caring for Ricky, along with her young daughter from a previous relationship. To outsiders, their relationship more closely resembled a mother-son situation than that of a husband-wife.

"I more or less watch over him,"Judy Franks said. "He's not really growed up." She admitted she was "like a mother to him."

Judy refused to believe the reports that Ricky had sexually molested his nieces; therefore, she was unconcerned for her own daughter's safety.

But Franks had confessed to the Wise County Sheriff's Office in 1990 that he had molested a half-dozen children, starting when he was thirteen years old. Most victims were children of relatives or friends and ranged in age from four to ten years old. He also admitted sexual attacks on girls, starting when he was thirteen. Regardless whether his wife chose to ignore the truth, Ricky Franks was a sexual predator.

Judy enjoyed being with Ricky, and they spent most of their time together. Franks would often join his wife at her job as a school crossing guard and visit with her until the school bell rang and she picked up her redand-white stop sign to assist the children across the street. The simple act of being within one thousand yards of a school was a violation of one of his terms of probation, but Franks obviously didn't care. He often ignored the directives of the court. Not only had he been jailed twice during his seven-year probation term for failure to attend required counseling sessions, he was now living with a child under the age of eighteen, and thumbing his nose at other sex-offender terms of probation.

On March 25, 1999, the evening before Opal Jennings's kidnapping, Franks had become enraged during his sex-offender-counseling session and had stormed out of the counseling center without explanation. No one knew what had set him off, or what repercussions would occur as a result of his anger.

Walking into Herrera's office, just behind her-husband, was Judy Franks. Herrera cringed as he noticed her. She, too, often accompanied Ricky on his probation visits, frequently interfering with Herrera's officer-probationer discussions. Judy regularly made excuses for Ricky's lack of attendance at therapy or failure to perform community service. But as Herrera went through the usual inquiries about job, family, and counseling, a nagging thought in the back of his mind kept trying to push forward.

Once the Frankses had left his office, Herrera continued to ponder the reasons why Richard Lee Franks would pick now, after all these years, to change his appearance drastically. The small-framed Hispanic officer walked to the window, adjusted his glasses, and watched as Judy and Ricky Franks climbed into a black Mercury Cougar and drove off.

Herrera's eyes widened as he stood straight. Hurriedly he rummaged through the papers on his desk. Pulling the one he sought from the stack, he held it with trembling hands.

On the 8' -by-l l-inch sheet of copy paper was the image of Opal Jennings, along with the brief description of her abductor. The depiction was familiar to Herrera. It fit the man who had just left his office. The car described in the flyer was eerily like the one driven by the Frankses to Herrera's office. He was certain the man authorities sought was Richard Lee Franks.

A light mist fell on the hundreds of people who crowded the neighborhood street where little Opal Jennings had lived with her grandparents. They held hands, encircling the bewildered Sanderford family, while candlelight flickered, illuminating the tears that spilled down their cheeks. The sweet sound of `Jesus Loves the Little Children" brought painful sobs from Opal's family.

Donna Whitson, a tall, dark-haired woman, clung to Audrey Sanderford. Whitson, the mother of Amber Hagerman, was there to support the family, as were all the others who filled North Hampshire Street. Wearing a white sweatshirt with her daughter's image on the front, Whitson clung to Audrey Sanderford, holding her as she cried. Painful memories of Amber's abduction speared Whitson's heart, but she had felt compelled to be there for the family of this stolen child.

"A little girl is missing, Lord, and everyone is scared. A little girl is missing, Lord, and all we can do is pray," a resident read aloud. Everyone bowed their heads to pray for the safe return of Opal Jo Jennings.

Similar prayer services were taking place in Arkansas, where Opal was born, and in Tennessee, where the Sanderfords lived for a time.

The events were meant to bolster the spirits of the family, who had slept little and worried ceaselessly since Opal's kidnapping. The outpouring of love and concern was overwhelming, but nothing would ease the pain of their loss, nothing but finding Opal.

Leola Sanderford wearily leaned against one of the two maroon posts that supported the tiny front porch of her father and stepmother's Saginaw house. It had been eight long days since her daughter's abduction. Leaving her two-year-old daughter back in North Dakota, Leola had flown to Texas, hoping she could help bring her older daughter back home.

Leola, her dark brown hair gently blown back by a mild westerly wind, straightened to address the press. The shy young woman didn't relish facing reporters and cameras. Unlike her stepmother, who seemed at home in front of the media, Leola was uncomfortable. She was there only to plea for Opal's return; then she would gladly fade back into the background to let others deal with the press.

Wearing a sleeveless flowered shirt in temperatures that hovered in the mid-seventies, Leola Sanderford spoke into a dozen black microphones set up to capture her words. She stated that she believed someone outside the family had taken Opal. "It had to be. There's nobody else who could have done it," Leola said softly.

The young mother of two was having difficulty speaking. Overcome with grief and fear, Leola said, "Please bring her home safe" before she broke down and was led inside the house. There, her grandmother Leola Hartline, who had traveled from Corpus Christi to Saginaw to help her family, consoled the younger Leola.

Outside, Audrey Sanderford stepped in front of the microphones and fielded questions from the massive media contingent.

"I don't want to think Opal is dead," her grandmother said. "I know she's alive. I know whoever's got her is moving around somewhere, somehow."

Audrey wanted desperately to believe Opal had not been harmed. She, as well as her stepdaughters and husband, wanted their lives back to normal, but life as the Sanderfords knew it prior to Opal's kidnapping would never be the same.

It would be changed forever for their neighbors as well. The students at Opal's elementary school were being kept inside for recess. Parents didn't allow their kids out of their sight. Some parents carried copies of the official list of registered area sex offenders with them. They would check and recheck the names, birth dates, descriptions, and streets where known sex offenders lived. Tensions were high. The laid-back residents of the small town had become prisoners in their own homes. Where, before, there had been kids playing football, riding bikes, and climbing trees, the Saginaw streets were now nearly deserted.

"It's kind of like it's raining all the time in Saginaw," one resident described. "The kids don't go outside to play. They're all cooped up inside."

Their children's mobility may have been severely restricted, but anxious adults finally were given official permission to get out and look for Opal. Divided into teams of five to ten, some volunteers searched on foot, others on horseback, while still others were led by dogs trained to detect human scent. Nearly 110 volunteers searched much of the thirteen-square-mile city, but found nothing.

While searchers combed the area in pursuit of Opal, her family prepared for Easter. Opal had helped pick out a light blue dress she'd planned to wear on Easter Sunday. Her grandmother had been forced to hide it from the youngster, who had been handling it so much Audrey feared she would wear it out before she even had a chance to wear it.

Opal would have been beautiful in the dress, the color intensifying her deep blue eyes and accenting her dark brown hair. Audrey could envision Opal standing in the living room, posing for an Easter picture with a basket full of candy in one hand and a stuffed animal in the other.

Tears burned Teresa Sanderford's eyes, while at the same time a small smile crossed her lips. She watched grandson Austin scurry across the lawn in a frantic, fun-filled hunt for the brightly colored eggs hidden in the yard. It was Easter, little more than a week after Opal's abduction. Teresa's thoughts were of Opal, how cute she always looked dressed up in her Easter bonnet, a new dress, and shiny shoes, carrying her Easter basket filled with gooey treats left by that elusive Easter bunny.

But Easter 1999 was a time of emotional turmoil for Opal Jennings's family. It was a time to celebrate the resurrection of God's son and a time of mourning for the loss of their own child. Reverend Grady Brittian, pastor of the Davis Memorial United Methodist Church in North Richland Hills, Texas, not far from the Sanderfords' house, had offered to perform a sunrise Easter service in the backyard of the Sanderfords' home, but the family had declined.

During the crisis Brittian and the Sanderford family had bonded together as friends. The minister had made numerous visits to the family home, often taking along soft drinks, ice, or other supplies he thought they may have needed. He knew without a doubt that first and foremost the family wanted Opal back. Brittian also knew that Opal's Christian family wanted whoever had taken Opal to have a "life-changing experience." They hoped that if Opal had been killed, the person responsible would come clean and tell police where the young girl's body was hidden. Brittian knew the family not only wanted but needed relief from the enormous pain they were feeling. Telling them where Opal's body could be found would be the humane thing to do. But Audrey Sanderford wasn't prepared to accept her granddaughter was dead. In declining Reverend Brittian's offer of a private service, Audrey said, "I need to get out there (to church) and have that Easter service. I need to sing hymns, listen to the choir, and just get filled back up. Jesus is alive and in his heaven watching over Opal."

"It hurts and all, but we're going to get through it," Robert Sanderford remarked. "Opal's here with us."

The entire community had carried the heaviness of Opal's kidnapping with them for more than a week. Parents had kept their children closer, not allowing them to wander far from home, but Easter was a time for faith, a time to put their fears away. More than four hundred children turned out for the annual Easter egg hunt sponsored by the Saginaw Fire Department. Laughing and running under the bright blue sky dotted with puffy white clouds, the children scurried across the grassy fields of Willow Creek Park, gathering the prized colored eggs. For at least a short period of time, the people of Saginaw were leading regular lives again.

Saginaw police were doing all they could to find Opal Jennings. But with each passing day, the task became more intense, more overwhelming for the small-town department. The FBI and other local agencies were working closely with the Saginaw PD. However, with a week gone and no word of Opal's whereabouts, the decision was made to take the case to the national public.

John Walsh, the host of the immensely popular America's Most Wanted, was well known as a children's advocate. After the kidnapping and murder of his own son, Adam, from a Hollywood, Florida, shopping mall, Walsh had immersed himself in helping other grieving parents search for their missing children, as well as their abductors.

Walsh began his crusade by having the faces of missing children placed on milk cartons in an effort to raise national awareness. His actions sparked an international victims' rights movement, and his fight for change was felt among national policy makers. In 1988, Walsh became the host of America's Most Wanted. Through the national television program, Walsh had been able to help hundreds of families find closure and had helped expedite the capture of some of America's most dangerous fugitives. The program was a natural vehicle for a plea to help find Opal Jennings.

Walsh, a middle-aged attractive man with a face as serious as the crimes he reported, stood in a New York television studio as a photo of Opal Jennings appeared on television screens across America.

"There is a little girl who desperately needs our help tonight," Walsh said.

In the thirty-second feature Walsh briefly told the nation of the abduction of Opal Jennings and gave them a description of the suspect who had taken her.

"Let's find OpalJennings tonight," Walsh said at the end of the segment.

The local Fox television channel aired the program in Dallas/Fort Worth within mere days of the abuction. A longer segment was planned for later, but Walsh agreed with Texas authorities that the word of Opal's kidnapping had to be reported immediately for paramount results.