The Kidnap Years: by David Stout (popular books of all time TXT) 📗

was familiar with Holt’s habitual caution and had confidence in her judgment.

Yet oddly—bafflingly, really—Freeman did not ask if Marjorie Parker had been notified of her father’s mishap or if anyone in authority had even talked to her. Nor, apparently, did the principal press for a clearer explanation on why the “family friend” had not picked up both twins.

Marjorie Parker waited outside the school for her sister so they could catch a streetcar home together. That was their usual routine. When Marion did not emerge, Marjorie thought she must have stayed late to help a teacher clean up after a party. Marjorie, not wanting to miss the next streetcar, went home alone.

Perry and Geraldine Parker were not alarmed when Marjorie appeared without her sister. The idea that Marion had stayed to help a teacher seemed quite in character. But after a while, Perry Parker decided he’d better drive over to the school to get Marion. He thought she might be nervous traveling home in the dark, which was fast descending.

So Parker called the school, was put through to Mary Holt, and identified himself.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“I feel fine, Mrs. Holt. Thank you for asking. Is Marion still at school?”

Why no, Holt said. Marion left hours before with “the man you sent to pick her up” because of the accident.

Parker was flabbergasted. “I was not in any accident, and I did not send anyone to pick up Marion from school!”

Parker hung up in dread and was about to call the police when the doorbell rang. A telegram had arrived: “Do absolutely nothing till you receive special delivery.”26

A short time later, another telegram: “Marion secure. Use good judgment. Interference with my plans dangerous. George Fox.”

George Fox? The Parkers did not recognize the name.

Through the night, the parents agonized. By morning, they could wait no longer. They phoned the police. Detectives hurried to the house. They told the Parkers that several other young people had gone missing recently.

As the detectives were taking statements from Perry and Geraldine Parker on Friday morning, a special delivery arrived. It had been mailed at six o’clock Thursday evening. It was addressed to “P. M. Parker” and demanded $1,500, in the form of seventy-five twenty-dollar gold certificates. The letter ordered Parker to “go about your daily business as usual” and not to call the police. It promised that further instructions would be coming. “Failure to comply with these requests means no one will ever see the girl again except the angels in heaven.” The letter was signed “Fate.”

Even more chillingly, there was an accompanying note, written in Marion’s hand. “Dear Daddy and Mother: I wish I could come home. I think I’ll die if I have to be like this much longer. Won’t someone tell me why this had to happen to me? Daddy please do what this man tells you or he’ll kill me if you don’t.”

The police were puzzled by the demand for only $1,500. To be sure, that was a fair sum at the time, but a ransom demand was typically for a far larger amount. Perhaps the kidnapper (or kidnappers) knew that the Parkers, while comfortable enough, were far from wealthy.

Somehow, Perry Parker held himself together as he went to work at the bank that Friday. As instructed, he got $1,500 from his personal account—and recorded the serial number for each bill. Meanwhile, the police went to Mount Vernon Junior High School to question Mary Holt. Emotionally shattered, she described the man who had spirited Marion away: twenty-five to thirty years old, about five feet eight inches tall, brown wavy hair, brownish-gray overcoat, and a dark gray hat. Spoke good English, seemed to be well educated.

When Parker arrived home on Friday afternoon, there had been no further word from the kidnapper. Around eight o’clock, the phone rang. “Mr. Parker, do you have the money?” a man said.

“Yes, I have it. Is Marion all right?”

“I’ll call back in five minutes.”

But a full half hour went by. Finally, the man called again and told Parker to drive alone to a certain section of Gramercy Street and wait there. Parker did as ordered. He waited in the dark for hours. Shortly before midnight, he drove home. There, he learned that the police had followed him, hoping to catch the kidnapper. Parker feared that the kidnapper had sensed this.

He had. “Mr. Parker, I am ashamed of you!” the abductor wrote in another special delivery letter on Saturday. “You’ll never know how you disappointed your daughter… Pray to God for forgiveness for your mistake last night.” But at least the kidnapper, who signed the letter “Fate-Fox,” said he’d give new instructions by Saturday evening.27

And there was another plaintive note from Marion, begging her father to follow the kidnapper’s instructions.

Two more warning letters arrived that Saturday. The first was signed “Fox-Fate.” The second said: “Fox is my name. Very sly you know. Set no traps. I’ll watch for them. Get this straight! Remember that life hangs by a thread. I have a Gillette [razor] ready and able to handle the situation.” It was signed “Fate.”28

By this time, the Parkers and the police wondered what kind of lunatic or monster they were dealing with. Just after seven in the evening, the kidnapper called and specified a circuitous route that Parker should take to a particular street corner. Parker left immediately with the money, the police having promised not to follow.

This time, he did not have to wait long. In his rearview mirror, he saw another car approaching. The vehicle stopped with the passenger side alongside Parker’s car. The driver, whose face was partly covered by a bandanna, leaned out the window and pointed a sawed-off shotgun at Parker. “You see this gun?”

“I see it.”

The kidnapper demanded the money. But Parker, after all he and his family had been through, demanded to know where his daughter was.

The abductor held up a blanket-wrapped form. For a moment, Parker saw the face of his daughter. The cheeks were bright. Were her eyes