Baby Be Mine (30 page)

“Infant abductions are usually carried out by women who are not criminally sophisticated,” according to a September 1995
FBI Law Enforcement Bulletin
. “However, the women demonstrate an ability to plan the abduction, convincingly play a role . . . and resort to deadly force if necessary. Most
of these women are living a lie—before, during and after the abduction, many have faked a pregnancy, which eventually forces them into a corner. They feel they have no choice but to produce a child by any means necessary. Indeed, infant abductions are the desperate acts of desperate women. As one infant abductor put it, I began getting really desperate trying to figure out what I was gonna do—how I was gonna find someone to give me their baby—now.' ”

It has been said that Bobbie Jo's mistake was to put a picture of herself in an obvious state of pregnancy on the Internet. But is pregnancy something a woman needs to hide? That shrouding of personal information is not far from the days when even married women were confined to home—banished from public—when they were “in the family way”—as if pregnancy were a source of shame.

Bobbie Jo Stinnett was excited about the upcoming birth of her baby. Her pregnancy was a life-altering, life-affirming period in her life. Even for a quiet, reserved person like Bobbie Jo, the anticipation was too exquisite not to share. She should have been able to do so without risk. Today, she should be reveling in the joys and struggling with the challenges of motherhood.

Instead, Bobbie Jo never saw her daughter, Victoria Jo. And Victoria Jo never felt her mother's arms wrap around her or felt the warmth of the intense love that powered her mother's smile.

All because Lisa Montgomery wanted a child and she would not allow anyone to stop her in her quest—not even the life of a lovely small-town woman who was known for her kindness and empathy. The town Montgomery chose for her act of violence was Skidmore—a place already ravaged by a tragic and violent past. A town many say is cursed by the day that its citizens took the law into their own hands and murdered the town bully in cold blood in broad daylight in the busiest intersection for miles.

In my travels through northwest Missouri, I traversed mile after mile of bucolic countryside. I entered many little
towns and exchanged a fortune in smiles. But in Skidmore the peace and friendliness—as ordinary in small-town America as fast talk in a big city—sunk into a quagmire of distrust and suspicion.

The moment my foot stretched out of my car, I fell the walls rise and shut me out. A bulky man blocked my entry into a convenience store at Newton's corner. A sour, tired blonde shooed me out of a bar and restaurant nearby. I felt the searing stare of hostile eyes on my back as I stood before the brick memorial erected in Bobbie Jo's memory. When I knocked on doors—with one remarkable, hospitable exception—I was ignored. Although I knew someone was at home, I waited on silent doorsteps in front of doors that did not open. The houses themselves seemed to be holding their collective breath until I left town.

The citizens of many small towns are wary of strangers. But in Skidmore, it went beyond wariness into a simmering paranoia. The folks in Skidmore often express anger and resentment that reporters always bring up Ken McElroy whenever they report anything in Skidmore. Cheryl Huston rebuked the
Maryville Daily Forum
for resurrecting that story, but conveniently forgetting to recall Maryville's own claim to shame—the death of Raymond Gunn. “There is more to Skidmore than Ken McElroy,” she said.

The residents who lived in the town all their lives don't want to understand the fascination the rest of the world has for the Ken McElroy story. They are numb to the undercurrents that churn up uneasiness in their own neighborhoods.

As I visited their town, though, I felt the vengeful ghost of Ken McElroy walking the weary streets of Skidmore. I heard him laugh at the isolation and fears of the townspeople—delighted with the thought that he was the root cause of their alienation from the world. And I knew that Ken McElroy had won.

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If you are expecting a child, visit the website of the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children,
www.missingkids.com
and download a copy of
What Parents Need to Know
, a list of safety tips for expectant parents, or call 1-800-THE LOST (1-800-843-5678) for free prevention tips or to report any information related to any missing child.