The Lost Girls (29 page)

“I would have to say I’m really disappointed,” Arlene replied, “embarrassed, mainly devastated about this whole situation.”

Arlene said she hadn’t spoken to her dad for a couple of weeks and had never been very close to him.

“Every time we would talk it would just be a short conversation,” she said. “Just a ‘Hello, how are you doing? And let me know if you need anything.’ And that was it. Every time.”

“And did you ever meet the little girl?” asked Stephanopoulos.

“No,” she said. “I have never met her before.”

“Did you ever witness violence in the home?”

“Oh no. Never. Never,” replied Arlene.

Then Stephanopoulos asked if there was anything she wanted to say to Gina and her family.

“I am absolutely so, so sorry,” sobbed Arlene. “I really want to see you, Gina. and I want you to meet my kids. I’m so sorry for everything.”

A few hours later on CNN, Ariel Castro’s oldest daughter, Angie Gregg, also apologized to her father’s victims, saying his actions were “sickening” but his family should not be stigmatized.

“We don’t have monster in our blood,” she said. “My father’s actions are … definitely not a reflection of myself or my children.”

Angie said she never wanted to see her father again and had cut him out of her life.

“I would like to ask him,” she said, “When did you think that this was going to be over? How did you think it was going to end? You’re fifty-two years old, did you think you could carry on this charade forever? What did you think was going to happen? And eventually you would have been caught, and then what of these girls? What of your family? You didn’t care?”

Arlene finally reached out to Amanda Berry and her daughter, Jocelyn, whose DNA was now being analyzed to see if they were half sisters.

“I would love to see the little girl, Jocelyn,” she said, “but I don’t want to pressure them at all. And that’s maybe further down the road and maybe it will be a possibility. I would really love that but right now these girls need to heal.”

That same day, reporters staking out Lillian Rodriguez’s home surrounded her when she emerged from the house.

“I am a mother in a lot of pain,” she told them in Spanish. “My son is sick and I have nothing to do with what my son did.”

Then she got in a car and was driven away.

Cleveland City Councilman Brian Cummins, who represents Ward 14, which includes Seymour Avenue, had been briefed on the case from the beginning. He would play a crucial role in helping the large Hispanic neighborhood come to terms with what had happened under their very eyes. And several Seymour Avenue residents had guilty consciences because they had not asked more questions over the years.

“How possibly could this happen?” asked Cummins. “So, I think we must not try to be too judgmental on the official bodies, the FBI, the police. Everybody wishes we could have ended this sooner and there’s a lot of self-doubt, questioning.”

Over the next few months, Cummins and several other council members met regularly to discuss ways of helping the victims financially.

The FBI had arranged for local attorney Kathy Joseph to examine Michelle Knight’s legal issues, including her custody rights with her son, Joey, who was now a teenager and had been adopted soon after she disappeared.

At their first meeting at the MetroHealth Medical Center, Michelle complained she couldn’t get in touch with Gina. And on Thursday morning, Joseph reached out to Councilman Cummins.

“Kathy said, ‘I want to get Michelle an iPhone,’” recalled Cummins. “I said, ‘What else?’ and this is really touching. Kathy says, ‘Well, she really wants something that represents Puerto Rico, like a T-shirt, a flag or a poster, because she attaches that to Gina.’”

So Cummins called one of his main contacts in the local Puerto Rican community, asking if he could help.

“So within days somebody had brought three iPhones,” said Cummins, “and we were able to get the phone to Michelle so she could talk to Gina.”

Ironically, a few days later, the FBI would order the girls not to communicate with each other until after the trial, so as not to jeopardize the criminal case now being built against Castro.

On Thursday morning, Councilman Matt Zone, who represented Ward 15, visited the DeJesus home to see if there was anything he could do for Gina.

“Gina was smiling from ear to ear,” said Zone, who had become close friends with Felix and Nancy over the years. “It was a special moment. I was very choked up.”

On his way out, Councilman Zone told reporters that Gina wanted to get her hair done, buy makeup, and see a dentist.

Another visitor that day was Pastor Angel Arroya, a close family friend and one of the DeJesus family’s staunchest supporters at the annual vigils.

“[Gina’s] asking for ice cream and chicken sandwiches,” he said, “and she’s just very happy to be back home and surrounded by her relatives.”

During her nine years of captivity, Gina had forgotten how to speak Spanish, and kept asking her family and friends to speak only English.

On Thursday afternoon, Gina and her mother went out into the backyard for about an hour and a half, until a TV news helicopter came and hovered overhead.

Gina’s cousin Sylvia Colon said that all the media attention was making Gina and her family feel trapped.

“It comes down to freedom,” said Colon. “And I think she came out of one prison and, to some degree, she’s in another prison.”

On Thursday night, more than 150 people honored Michelle Knight at a rally in an open field on Seymour Avenue. The bells at the Immanuel Evangelical Lutheran Church rang out, as the crowd formed a circle, releasing eighty balloons into the night sky.

Community activist Judy Martin said the neighborhood wanted to honor Michelle, who had never had a vigil held for her while she was missing.

“We want her to know that we care about her and are thinking about her,” said Martin. “If we had known, we would have been there to help her too.”

Meanwhile, Michelle remained in the MetroHealth Medical Center, reportedly undergoing facial reconstruction surgery. Her room was full of flowers, cards, gifts and balloons from strangers who wanted to show their love.

“People who didn’t even know me,” she said, “were showing me more love than I had ever felt in my entire life.”

On Friday morning, Ohio Attorney General Mike DeWine confirmed that Ariel Castro had fathered Amanda Berry’s six-year-old daughter, Jocelyn. He said the DNA test had been fast-tracked, with Ohio BCI forensic scientists working through the night. The normal turnaround for a DNA result is three weeks. Castro’s DNA was also compared against samples taken from other crime scenes in Ohio, but so far there were no matches.

That morning, Cleveland City Council members Brian Cummins, Matt Zone and Dona Brady announced they were setting up the Cleveland Courage Fund, to help the victims financially. So much money was now pouring into the Cleveland Police Department from people moved by the women’s story that an organization was needed to ensure it all went to them. It was agreed that everyone would work pro bono, and the fund would be set up as a tax-free, nonprofit organization.

The idea of giving Michelle Knight a new identity was also discussed, so she could totally break free from her past and start a new life.

“Like in a witness protection program,” Councilman Cummins explained. “I think it’s such a fluid situation with their counseling and their mental issues, that it’s literally day-by-day.”

Amanda and Gina’s families had also hired the Cleveland-based Jones Day law firm to represent the victims and become their main point of contact.

“We knew we were going to be deluged,” said Cummins. “We [soon] discussed book and movie deals with attorneys … we were talking about the fund and raising money for them and making sure we somehow cared about their future.”

It was also announced that the three women would all be represented by the Cleveland public relations firm Hennes Paynter Communications, which specializes in crisis management.

“We were floored to get the call,” said the firm’s co-owner Bruce Hennes, “and when we were asked to do this pro bono the answer was, immediately, of course. We’re honored to be able to help them.”

On Friday afternoon, Michelle Knight was released from the MetroHealth Medical Center and quietly moved into a hospice facility, as there was nowhere else for her to go.

“I felt really alone,” said Michelle. “That nobody really understood.”

On her release, the hospital issued a statement: “Michelle Knight is in good spirits and would like the community to know that she is extremely grateful for the outpouring of flowers and gifts. She is especially thankful for the Cleveland Courage Fund. She asks that everyone please continue to respect her privacy at this time.”

That night, Nancy Ruiz told
ABC News
that she had forgiven Ariel Castro for what he had done to Gina. Only four days after wanting to kill him, she said she had found compassion for him.

“I would hug him and say I did not hate him,” she said. “I forgave him many years ago. I said it, ‘I forgive whoever done it. Just let her go.’”

On Saturday morning, workmen erected a ten-foot-high metal fence around 2207 Seymour Avenue, to protect the still-active crime scene. After several arson threats, Ariel Castro’s house was now under around-the-clock surveillance. An abandoned house next door, which had been searched Thursday, was also boarded up and closed off.

The big question was what should be done with the now notorious “horror house,” which was in foreclosure for over $2,501 in unpaid taxes.

“It’s a decision for neighbors and also for the women,” explained Councilman Cummins. “The issue is how do we respect the wishes of the survivors in this case, and it’s too premature to know what their wishes would be.”

Two years earlier, the East Side house where convicted Cleveland serial killer Anthony Sowell had murdered eleven women had been torn down after his trial. Many believed this should set a precedent for 2207 Seymour Avenue to be demolished.

“We can’t take it down until it’s cleared for evidentiary purposes,” explained Cummins. “I don’t want to make a decision without [the survivors’ input].”

On Saturday, Amanda’s grandfather Troy Berry and three of her cousins arrived in Cleveland, after driving from Elizabethton, Tennessee. Her father, Johnny Berry, was too sick to travel, and Amanda planned to visit him and her grandmother Fern Gentry as soon as possible.

The seventy-three-year-old family patriarch said he was looking forward to meeting his great-granddaughter Jocelyn for the first time, as well as keeping a promise he had once made to Amanda. When she was a child, Troy had promised to give Amanda his 1986 Chevrolet Monte Carlo once she was old enough to drive. And during their phone call after her escape on Monday, Amanda had asked if he still had the car. Troy said he did and it was waiting for her.

“When she went missing,” Berry said, “I could never bring myself to get rid of the Chevy. Every time I looked at it, I imagined her smiling … and I prayed to God that she’d come back to us.”

That afternoon, Barbara Knight hired Cleveland attorney Jay Milano to assert her rights to see her daughter. She was angry at not being informed Michelle had left the hospital, and that no one would tell her where she was.

“Barbara Knight is a mother whose daughter has lived through hell,” Milano said. “It was hell for her too. She came up to be with her daughter, to hug her, to help her heal. She’s been stonewalled down the line. It’s abhorrent.”

MetroHealth Medical Center pointed out that Michelle Knight was an adult, quite capable of making her own decisions. They were merely protecting her rights.

“I’m not saying that Michelle is legally incompetent,” said Milano. “That’s baloney. But nothing she says is reliable. Anyone that damaged doesn’t have a handle on what they need.”

The attorney denied that Barbara and Michelle had a “strained relationship,” saying that they had always got on.

“Ten years of hell have passed,” he said. “Family is important to the healing process.”

That night,
Saturday Night Live
featured comedian Bobby Moynihan portraying Ariel Castro in a skit, lampooning the lack of media coverage of the recent Benghazi hearings, which had been overshadowed by the Cleveland abductions story and Jodi Arias’s murder conviction.

In the skit Arias was first called to testify before a panel by Republican committee chairman Darrell Issa, played by Bill Hader, who is then challenged by a Democratic representative played by Kenan Thompson, calling it a cheap ploy to get ratings.

“What next,” asked Thompson, “the guy from Cleveland who kept those women in his basement?”

Then
SNL
star Bobby Moynihan, playing Ariel Castro, is seen slumped in a chair, dressed in an orange jumpsuit and looking creepy.

“Does this mean I don’t get to testify?” Castro asked the panel.

Sunday was Mother’s Day and at 10:00
A.M.
, Jones Day attorney James Wooley held a brief press conference. After appealing to the media to leave them alone, he read out statements from each of the three victims, thanking everyone for their support.

“Thank you so much for everything you’re doing and continue to do,” read Amanda Berry’s statement. “I’m so happy to be home with my family.”

Gina DeJesus’s statement read: “I’m so happy to be home. I thank everybody for your prayers. I just want time now to be with my family.”

“Thank you to everyone for your support and good wishes,” read Michelle Knight’s statement. “I’m healthy, happy and safe and will reach out to family, friends and supporters in good time.”

After reading the statement, Wooley said none of the women would be doing any media interviews during the criminal investigation into Ariel Castro.

“Respect this most basic request,” he said, “give them time, space and privacy so they can get stronger. There may be a time at some point they will want to tell their story, but that will not be until they tell us they’re ready and criminal proceedings are over.”