While 5-year-old Nevaeh Buchanan's disappearance has ripped a hole in her family's heart, it also has wounded the spirit of a proud, working-class city in southeastern Michigan that has fallen on hard times.
Many residents have become united through the tragedy, setting aside their personal worries about unemployment to comfort the missing girl's family while falling back on about all they have left: hope and prayer.
Strangers have come out of nowhere, family members said, assisting them with impromptu civilian searches of any woods and marshy bogs that authorities might not have canvassed. They remind each other to tread carefully so as not to impede the investigation.
Several identified themselves as restless mothers and fathers of grown children who are angry about what might have happened to the little girl.
Even though they are well past their child-rearing days, they just can't sit idle.
"They get up and look under every nook and cranny," Maria Adkins, a West Toledo mother of three daughters between the ages of 17 and 21, said.
Samantha Lindsay, left, and Debra Lindsay add stuffed animals to others outside Nevaeh’s apartment. The Monroe residents don’t know the family but are hurting over the girl’s disappearance.
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THE BLADE/AMY E. VOIGT
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Anything from fresh socks to warm pizzas have been donated. Nevaeh's picture has gone up on downtown signs and drive-thru windows. At the Charlotte Arms apartment complex where Nevaeh lived the past two months, people stop by at a memorial under a majestic, shady tree to say prayers.
"Just sitting here and praying for her breaks me into tears," said Ms. Adkins, a friend of Nevaeh's father, Shane Hinojosa. "It's something that just hits you in the heart."
The memorial, which has a growing collection of teddy bears and other stuffed animals, is a few feet from a grassy area where Nevaeh was last seen Sunday night.
"That's not even my daughter and I can't sleep. It eats my skin away," said Felicia Wingle, 23, who is eight months pregnant with a second son and used to live at the apartment complex.
Nitin Thakore, manager of the Motel 7 on South Dixie Highway, where a convicted child molester by the name of George Kennedy had lived the past five weeks, said he senses the tragedy has made many Monroe residents fearful of going outside.
Kennedy has been described as the boyfriend of Nevaeh's mother, Jennifer Buchanan, and a "person of interest" in the case, though authorities declined at a news conference yesterday to characterize him as the lead suspect. Mr. Thakore said Kennedy was a quiet tenant who paid his $150-a-week rent on time with a credit card and didn't make trouble for anyone.
Monroe is hurting whether Kennedy is the prime suspect or not. The city yearns for answers, just like Nevaeh's family does.
"It's not like it was 20 or 30 years ago," Julie Sulfaro, a mother of two grown children and friend of Nevaeh's father, said while lamenting about the complexities of child-rearing in modern times.
"The child is the one suffering," said Ms. Sulfaro, a volunteer who said she has passed out flyers with Nevaeh's picture on it for as many as six hours a day.
Visitors to the Charlotte Arms apartment complex might not have picked up on the fact that 8-year-old John Morse was among the children suffering inside yesterday.
His bright eyes and big, toothy grin managed at times to conceal the anguish that his mother, Dorothy Morse, said he has been experiencing over Nevaeh's disappearance since Sunday night.
But the young boy looked forlorn when talking about her. The boy described himself and Austin Baker, another boy at the apartment complex, as Nevaeh's two closest friends there.
Records show Austin and another child named Magneta Six were the last two seen with the missing girl.
"There are a lot of her little friends around here who are taking it real hard," Mrs. Morse said.
The Morse child is a third grader at Hollywood Elementary School. He was sent home from school early Wednesday, sick to his stomach from worrying about Nevaeh. The boy's mother said he fears Nevaeh is "not going to come home."
John Morse and his 14-year-old brother, Kenneth Morse, were among a group of kids that played basketball together on May 13. Nevaeh was with them.
She loved to play baseball, whether it was taking a few swings or having a game of catch with him, John Morse said. Like other youngsters, they used their imaginations to pass the time playing with anything from toy firetrucks to live worms.
And - like other children - they also enjoyed playing an occasional game of tag at the apartment complex.
Yesterday, the 8-year-old wasn't talking as much as a child his age does.
After reminiscing about Nevaeh, he offered advice that parents often don't get from children: "Don't let your kids go outside by themselves."
John Boedicker, Jr., John Morse's stepfather, said it's going to be a hard summer for the city of Monroe if things don't start returning to normal.
"Kids are kids," Mr. Boedicker said. "They want to [go outside and] play."
The media frenzy surrounding the investigation has sent shock waves through normally quiet town.
Some residents of Charlotte Arms said they've grown weary of 'round-the-clock scrutiny from both media outlets and authorities, which include anyone from local authorities to FBI agents.
Some complained about being stopped and questioned. Many have had their apartments searched, they said.
"A madhouse," Cleveland Dell, Mrs. Morse's boyfriend, said in describing the early phases of the investigation at the complex.
"No freedom," he said. "You couldn't leave without being stopped and being asked 50,000 questions."
The family is anxious for resolution.
Nevaeh's grandmother, Carla Elliotte, said that "thank you is not enough" for the people who have shown empathy.
"Nevaeh is in everyone's mind and everyone's heart," she said. "Our hearts are hurting. Our hearts go out to these people - these people who have helped."
Mr. Hinojosa, Nevaeh's father, said he and other family members will continue to sleep in a tent they've pitched at the apartment complex until the girl is found.
He said he will never quit looking for her.
"I'm not stopping," he said. "I'm not leaving this apartment complex until she's in my arms one more time."
Contact Tom Henry at: thenry@theblade.com or 419-724-6079. Permanent Link
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