Ten Years Ago
The Law Note Daily Review
The Department of Health and Human Services filed an unprecedented criminal complaint yesterday against the Washington State Police Department and two Seattle private citizens. They stated in their complaint that Rochelle and Arthur Jensen along with two unidentified Washington State Police officers willfully and illegally detained a minor child and conducted an interrogation of the child without the knowledge or presence of her parents.
The ten-year-old girl a key witness in the Fourth of July Kidnapping case, created a work of art last summer which ultimately led police to save two of three kidnapped children. The child, dubbed the ‘psychic artist,’ by the press created a mural on the wall of her bedroom, made entirely of torn bits of paper and glue, after allegedly having a psychic vision which allowed her to depict the scene.
The mural depicted, in remarkable detail, each of the three kidnapped children taken only the day before. It also showed three men, presumably the kidnappers. Only two of the men’s images were completed, but the third man’s image had no facial details. After conferring with the parents and learning that the child artist had depicted the clothing worn by the children when they were kidnapped, police decided to release photographs of the mural to the public. The two men who’s faces were shown were almost immediately identified. Shortly, thereafter, police recovered two of the stolen children, safe and unharmed.
The press went nuts, wanting to proclaim the marvels of the young mystery artist. She was a hero, but of course, her identity was to remain confidential, known only to a few police. However, during a press conference, one of the grateful mothers, let slip, “Thank you, Sabrina, thank you for saving my baby.” Obvious, that the police department hadn’t been careful enough in protecting the identity of the child witness, a judge stepped in and slapped a gag order against the Washington State police, all parents and parties involved and against the press, reminding them to not reference the name Sabrina, and to give the child the privacy and anonymity which was her right.
But, as the days went on and two-year-old Scott Jenson remained at large, his parents, broke the gag order and held a press conference demanding that the Washington Police question the child again and compel her to finish her mural. Threatened by actions from the courts, they backed down on their public pressuring of the police. However, per the complaint, they took matters into their own hands and conspired to influence two unidentified Washington State Police officers to illegally detain and question the minor witness without the knowledge or presence of her parents. Per the complaint, the ten-year-old girl was allegedly severely traumatized by the unlawful interrogation and remains hospitalized pending mental evaluation, thus adding child endangerment to the list of charges.
“We are very disturbed that this has occurred,” stated Jolene Hoffman, director of Child Services for the DHAHS, “we are already making plans to relocate the child to another state and hope that the media refrains from trying to learn the identity of this child or her family. They’ve suffered enough.”
Somewhere in Northern Washington State
The child Sabrina didn’t save… ten years later
Caleb was a wild child, with long hair that had never been cut.
By day they let him run free in the woods because his captors knew he wouldn’t run. There was nowhere to go. They told him that if he tried, he’d die. Either from starvation or by eating a poisonous plant, or by being sucked into the raging stream and drowned, but most likely he’d perish as soon as the sun went down when the wolves came out in the forest to hunt for an easy dinner.
Caleb had seen wolves, sometimes long before sunset. He knew to stay close to the cabin, where the sounds of the humans and the noises inside the house frightened the wolves and kept them at bay.
When he became old enough to explore far and wide, Caleb kept an eye on the sun. When it reached the apex of the sky he turned around and headed back, always returning to the safety of the cabin before dusk fell over the deep forest.
He’d grown up, from a small child to gangly pre-teen, and saw the seasons change ten times. He watched the moon wax then wane into another month over a hundred times. The cabin, despite all its mysteries and horrors, was his home for better or worse.
Two ugly sisters from Bulgaria, with identical hearts of stone, were his captors, or his “caretakers,” as they preferred to be called. They did Sir’s bidding, whatever that might be. Every month they’d take turns. One would appear in a car, spend the night, and then the next morning he’d have a new sister in charge of keeping him alive.
Olga was by far the worst of the two, always quick to beat him if he got out of line. But Babette, who enjoyed giving him a good beating, was too lazy most of the time to lift a finger. Because she liked to drink and do other things when she didn’t know Caleb was watching—things that would get her into trouble if Sir ever found out—Caleb liked it best when it was Babette’s turn to keep an eye on him.
Sir never showed his face. That was his thing.
Sir did stop by, often when he least expected a visit. Sometimes one time per season, sometimes only once or twice the whole year.
Caleb feared Sir most of all, but he also looked forward to the visits.
Sir was interested in Caleb. Sir broke the monotony of his world. Sir was cruel, but he wasn’t indifferent like the twins.
When Sir came, he’d stay for several days, his face always obscured behind his mask. He’d spend hours talking at him, explaining how the world worked. Sir was his teacher. Sir taught him how to read and how to write. Sir brought him books. Sir gave him his name. Sir told him that he was important—a special child, a child whose purpose in life was to accomplish an important task.
Sir refused to explain what that task was, or when Caleb would be sent out to complete the task, but as Caleb grew older and wiser with each passing day, so did his understanding.
I stared through the dirt-encrusted window, beyond the wrought iron bars, and into the street, willing Jeanette’s car to appear. I checked my phone to see if she’d called back. Nothing.
I stamped my foot on the ground and crossed my arms in frustration.
I needed to go, but I continued to stall my departure. My suitcase sat by the door and I’d even had some success taming my wild hair. I was good to go. And yet I stood there with not-quite-ready-to-leave-yet cold feet, sabotaging my best chance of earning enough money to start fixing my biggest mistake thus far. But it was all on the pretext that I couldn’t go unless Jeanette got there first.