Left for Garbage by Sarah Mathews Read Free Book Online

state of shock over all this shit raining down on us.
    My girlfriend, Sarah, she keeps telling me to remain calm, but how can I? My sister is the most important thing in my life and there’s no way I’m about to calm down until we find my niece and get my sister home from jail.
    The media attention is growing.

Margaret Brown
    (Mother of Denise Brown)

    The police, who I thought could clearly see how my daughter was cooperating with them, that our family was cooperating, went and arrested her. How much am I supposed to be able to take? Honest to God, how much can one person endure?
    I want to tell the truth. W ell, I am telling the truth. I always tell the truth, no matter what those cops might think.
    I’m an admirer of David Ardley over at WKOB. I think he puts a lot of punch in his delivery and I … we … excuse me, because God knows this isn’t about me, it’s about my family, and of course I want this to be about Deeley. But what I’m trying to say is, I called David first, his station, and they told me he’d love to talk to me, yadda yadda. They’d send him over, and what’s the next thing I see on TV not two minutes later? It’s him, that nasty little hack David, down there at the jail along with the other vultures, shoving their mikes in Denise’s face while she was led past them in handcuffs. I get it. I can see the writing on the wall here.
    Maybe Mister David Ardley , star reporter, was planning to drop by when his schedule allowed, as though what I have to say, my feelings on this matter, aren’t of importance at all. The nice reporter who shows up, on the other hand, got here five minutes after I called, and to me that shows integrity.
    It’s obvious that people understand I have a story to tell and it’s the story people need to know, so that we can find my granddaughter and bring her home.
    Why talk to reporters instead of the police? I’ll tell you why. Because I have talked to the police. I’ve talked to them ‘til I’m blue in the face. My daughter talked to them for twenty hours straight, and not just talked but cooperated more fully than anyone could ask for. And what came of it? Is she here with me talking now, helping us to find Deeley, like she should be? No, she is in jail.
    I won’t forget who’s nice to me and who’s asking smart questions as this moves along. Next time someone wants an exclusive, I’m willing to talk about my family. Let the people see us for the tight-knit, normal, loving Americans we are. And, of course, Deeley, she was our center. Our heart. And now it’s all over because she’s gone and … I mean missing - she’s missing. She’s out there somewhere wondering where her Nana is. We’ll have her home soon.
    Okay, so we, the Bro wns, that’s me - Margaret and my husband, Keith - we’re united in this. We’re a very ordinary group. I like to think we’re special but every wife and mother feels that way, I imagine. We are from Minnesota originally. It’s where Keith and I met, and sparing the details, let’s suffice it to say we are a typical boy-meets-girl story. Though maybe what’s not so typical about us is how firmly we believe in the vows we made. Sure, we’ve gone through our ups and downs, like any couple, but the love and the promise remains strong, whatever you might be hearing to the contrary, thank you very much.
    Keith was working as a sheriff’s deputy back then and I was going to nursing school. How much more Am erican-dream can you be than us - am I right? Not too long after our wedding, I got pregnant with what turned out to be our son, Seeley. We call him Seel, and, oh, before I forget, let me explain how Denise came up with Deeley’s name. It’s a combination of her name and Seeley’s, which I think illustrates at least a tiny bit how close we are as a family.
    At any rate, after Seel came along, I wanted to be home with my baby , Seel, like any young mother. Keith and I aren’t what you call liberated. I guess we’re