KIDNAPPED – CHAPTER 3 – 2012 JoJo

CHAPTER 2

“Son, I know everything looks really bad right now,” the cop says in a gentle voice. “But trust me – it will work itself out if you give it time.”

I pull away in a rage. “No it won’t! How can anything ever be alright again? My mother and father are criminals! They are in jail and will likely be there for a very long time, for what they did!”

“Yes son, I know,” he murmured. “But your real parents are waiting at the Police Station to take you in. Do you know how desperately they looked for you Johnny? They never gave up, because they love you with all their hearts.”

“They can’t have loved me much to have allowed my … mother to kidnap me. How come they didn’t stop her from taking me?”

“You were in a pram with your real mother in a supermarket. The man you called your father, snatched your Mom’s handbag, distracting her long enough for his wife to snatch you out of the pram and run out of the store. This could’ve happened to anyone Johnny, and your real Mom has tormented herself about it for 12 years.”

“Is this supposed to be making me feel better, because it isn’t! How could … my parents …. do this? How could they? How would you feel if this had happened to you?”

The cop sighed. “I’d feel as devastated about it as you do,” he murmured. “Come on Johnny, let’s go to the Police Station – your parents have waited 12 years for this moment, and I don’t think it’s fair to keep them waiting any longer than we can help.”

We walk out to his car. I notice that the rear of the car is a cage and pull back. “Johnny, you will sit in the front seat with me,” the cop said. “Back seat is for the bad guys, not the good guys.” Scowling I yank open the door and get in. Leaning over the cop pulls out the seat belt and fastens it around me. I sit looking stonily ahead, feeling as if I am going to explode with all the pain, hurt, confusion and rage churning inside. Suddenly I find myself retching. Concerned the cop pulls to the curb, and I open the door, making a dash for the curb where I violently throw up, over and over again. He gets out of the car and stands beside me, his arm around my shoulders holding me tightly.

“There there son,” he murmurs gently. “Let it all out lad.”

When it’s over, he hands me a handkerchief and I wipe my face. Silently, I get back into the car and once again, he secures my seat belt.

I am drained, empty.

I want to hate the man and woman I’d called “Mom” and “Dad.” Hate them with every fibre of my being. But I can’t. I love them, just as I know they have always loved me.

CHAPTER 3

As we pull into the police station, the cop stops the car, leans over and puts his arm around my shoulders, squeezing me tightly against him.

“Want to sit here a few moments before we go in?” he asked with great compassion and understanding.

I think about it for a moment – I’d rather not go in at all, ever, but that’s not an option.

“I want it to go back to what it was before,” I mutter.

“Yes, I know” he said his voice soft and kind “But we both know that isn’t possible. But you can take a few moment now to get your bearings before we go in.”

Inwardly my thoughts are in a turmoil. Maybe the cop has a point – I need to get my act together before we go in.

“What am I supposed to say to these people I don’t even know? ‘Hi Mum and Dad – long time no see?'” I blurt angrily.

The cop sighs. “Maybe you don’t have to say anything at all. Think of it Johnny – you were their first baby! Your parents lost you 12 years ago, and on every day of those 12 years, there was unbelievable pain. The anguish, fear and terror they felt, wondering if you were being well treated, was the worst feeling a parent can feel. Is our son being cared for? Is is being abused? And worst yet – is he still alive? Can you imagine how they suffered – for 12 years?”

“Yeah, well none of that happened. My parents loved me and I had a wonderful home. Dad coached my football team, Mom sewed our football shirts, they were wonderful to me – the best!” I feel a lump swelling up in my throat and my eyes burn with tears which I’m holding back.

“It’s great that … your kidnappers were good to you and provided you with a wonderful home, Johnny, but please remember – your parents didn’t know this. Imagine what it must’ve been like for them waking up every morning, wondering, fearing the worst, that you’d been killed and buried somewhere and would never be found – day after day after day. Imagine having to go to the morgue several times over the years, when an unidentified boy’s body had been discovered somewhere in the city, fearing it would be you?”

“They did that?” I ask appalled.

“Yes,” the cop said gruffly. “Five times.” He paused. “And now they are here – to greet their long lost son. Johnny… be kind to them. They deserve it and trust me, in later years when you look back on today, you will always be grateful that you were kind to them.”

“Ok,” I mutter. “I will try. “Come on now, let’s get this over and done with.” Turning to him, I had a last thought “Oh by the way, what’s my real name?”

“It’s Joey … Joey Salvatore Feliciano. And in case you’re wondering, your parents are Italian and came to the United States right after they married, 15 years ago.” He paused for a minute. “And by the way, you have two younger brothers and a sister.”

I gulp. “And I suppose they’re all here?”

“You betcha, they’re all here. Come on, let’s go!”