the Mississippi River almost three months after he went missing. As a family, we have some resolution to at least have him back. Think of the helpless and desperate people who are missing an adult family member [and] are still waiting for answers,” he says.
The Kruziki family still has many questions about Matt’s death. They want to know why the individual who was with Matt on the night he died didn’t leave the bar with him. Why, Bill asks, did the East Dubuque police officer who stopped Matt at 1:10 in the morning on a freezing night not at least go into the bar and get Matt his coat? Why was Matt allowed to wander, intoxicated and alone without proper clothing, in a town where he knew no one and was staying in a hotel miles across the river?
What happened to Matt? Bill believes Matt’s death was most likely an accident, but he would like to see what investigators turned up in his son’s case. The only way he can do that is to allow the case to be closed, and that would mean the investigation would stop.
For Bill, it’s a double-edged sword: neither option will bring him peace.
• 3 •
The Police: A Report Card on
Police and Missing Persons Cases
Any community’s arm of force—military, police, security—needs people in it who can do necessary evil, and yet not be made evil by it.—Lois McMaster Bujold, Barrayar
T ime chips away at promising leads and makes important information seem less significant. When too much time passes, witnesses no longer recall facts with the same clarity or detail. Notes get shuffled, lost, or misfiled. Old handwriting fades, pictures grow fuzzy and less defined, and people move on with their lives. Cases that remain unsolved grow cold.
Cold cases are difficult to work and even more difficult to crack. Resolving them requires skill, patience, and a big helping of luck. Some detectives don’t have what it takes to work cold cases; others find they’re good at digging up answers from the past.
In Rutherford County, Tennessee, Lieutenant Bill Sharp of the Rutherford Sheriff’s Department Cold Case Squad and his partner, Sergeant Dan Goodwin, excel at cold case work. They thumb through the dusty, tattered files and boxes of evidence compiled in the twenty-odd cases assigned to their unit. Among those were the abductions of two small children: Bobby and Christi Baskin. The Baskin siblings were believed to have been taken by their grandparents, Marvin and Sandra Maple, when the kids were seven and eight years of age. Bobby and Christi disappeared on March 1, 1989, moments before a hearing ordered them returned to their natural parents.
The siblings were removed from their parents’ home after the Maples accused them of sexually abusing the children. A subsequent investigation found the allegations to be false. Authorities say the Maples absconded with the two older kids, but left a third, younger child, Michael, behind with Mark and Debbie Baskin.
“You’re saying they’re doing terrible things to the kids, but why wouldn’t you take the youngest kid, who was the most vulnerable? It makes no sense,” notes Sharp.
Doctors and psychiatrists examined the children and found no signs of abuse. When the pair failed to show up in court, investigators launched an immediate search for them, but the trail withered and died. Soon the case was shelved for lack of viable leads.
Criminal investigators at the Rutherford County Sheriff’s Office, like many law enforcement officers in rural areas, have impossible caseloads. It’s not uncommon for a detective to carry 150 cases ranging from vandalism to homicide. Once the Baskin matter grew cold, the abductions were moved back in priority. Still, detectives would pull the file every once in a while and look for new leads, drum up a little press, and touch base with Mark and Debbie, who held out hope they would see their children again.
They had reason to hope. Occasional press coverage would yield a few tips, all of which were