This article contains subject matter, including a fictional story, that some may find upsetting. Discretion is advised.
Tara Calico went on a bike ride up a New Mexico highway with her Walkman in tow. Playing Boston on full blast.
Boston? As in, “More Than a Feeling” Boston? I dig this person already. 😀
Sadly, Tara vanished during her morning ritual. The remnants of her Walkman were found, smashed on the side of a dusty road in Belen, New Mexico.
The Walkman pieces, like Tara herself, blew to the wind and the trail turned cold.
Look at this Photograph…
A few months later, in a backwoods town smack dab in the Florida Panhandle, a polaroid photo was found. A photo radiating with implications so sinister…
A boy and girl were in the back of a white van, bound and gagged with duct tape. It’s believed the girl is Tara due to their physical similarities.
The boy was briefly thought to be Michael Henley, a missing child also from New Mexico.
Sadly, Henley’s body was later found a couple miles away in the woods where he disappeared. His death was attributed to dehydration.
Internet sleuths have pointed out that the girl and Tara could not be one and the same. They’ve explained how their facial characteristics differed: flat eyebrows vs arched eyebrows, nasions at different levels, etc. Plus the girl looked 15-16, as opposed to 19 (Tara’s age when she vanished). If that isn’t enough, investigators at Valencia County Sheriff’s Office have said they don’t consider the photo authentic.
So we know these two rascals couldn’t be Calico or Henley. They were just two unidentified kidnapping victims in the back of a rickety old van. Their tired, traumatized eyes could only stare back at their captor, callously wielding a Polaroid camera!
Hey, let’s pump the brakes here for a second. I shouldn’t make light of a situation like this. A situation involving a kidnapping, no less. But I wouldn’t be making light of it…if the photo wasn’t a JOKE.
An initial glimpse of the infamous photo may show two kids in captivity, likely being trafficked. If you thought that, I don’t blame you. That’s why I challenge you to study the photo again. And I mean, really study it.
First, do kidnapping victims have tanned skin, as both their faces and the girl’s legs show? Kidnapping victims are forced to stay indoors to prevent others from seeing and reporting them to the authorities.
Captive/missing children generally look pale and sickly as a result of this. The kids in the photo look anything but. In fact, they seem pretty healthy and the girl even has some muscle definition.
Gags and Bounds
Duct Tape Gags
Apart from their bound arms and defeated eyes, their tape-concealed mouths elicited a collective gasp in 1989.
It gave the Calico family a respite from their grief. It gave them (false) hope that Tara was still alive, albeit in less-than-ideal circumstances.
However, upon further inspection, you’ll find the tape and bounds are a red herring.
Despite the common movie cliche, putting duct tape over someone’s mouth is NOT an effective way of keeping them silent. The tape will gradually lose its adhesiveness when exposed to sweat and skin warmth.
Plus, all you’d have to do is (literally) open your mouth. No, really. Expand your jaw and the tape will give way. Guaranteed.
If this was a legimitate kidnapping with two kids gagged, why didn’t they just do that? Open their mouths?
Both kids have their hands tied behind their back with unseen rope … or do they?
A closer examination shows the girl’s shoulders are too relaxed and her elbow is jutting out in a comfortable position.
If your hands are forcibly tied behind you, your shoulders will probably tighten. You may say, “But Tara grew accustomed to the stress over a period of several months. She became resigned to her plight!”
Okay, that’s fair. Except for the objects near her that are meant for holding with your hands.
On the girl’s right is a paperback novel, My Sweet Audrina by V.C. Andrews. The book enjoyed popularity in the 1980s among teenage girls. It’s reasonable to assume the book belongs to the girl, considering it’s within arm’s length.
Under her legs is a used drinking cup. Why would the girl have these objects nearby if she couldn’t grab them to begin with? And why have a drinking cup if you can’t drink it through a gag of duct tape?
The girl in the photo was not Tara Calico. The boy wasn’t Michael Henley, either. And the two kids were not kidnapping victims. If they were, why hasn’t the FBI identified them through their missing children database after thirty years?
It begs the question: Who the hell were they?
Well, being that I style myself a storyteller, I figure my tale-spinning abilities can come in handy. It’s time to solve this mystery, guys. Once and for all.
Sit ’round the ole campfire, y’all. Strum the guitar gently. I got a story for all of youse …
The (Real) Story Behind the Photo
It was June 1989.
In the quaint little town of Port St. Joe, Florida, a family of three was on its way to Panama City for vacation: Clara, the headstrong, bookish daughter. Mitch, the energetic, annoying son. And their wisecracking practical joker of a Dad.
The trio was traveling in the woods inside their Toyota white cargo van.
Their trip from Jacksonville to Panama City Beach was getting a brief delay after Clara and Mitch were causing a ruckus in the back. The rascals needed to stretch and breathe in some clean air, and they needed it bad.
Like two caged animals, the siblings were grunting in frustration. Roaring for a release from their humid confines.
“All right!” The dad cried, like an agitated zookeeper, “We’ll stop right here, right now! Good lord!”
And so the van chugged to a halt, inside the forest near the Florida coastline. Clara slid the door open to her right and hopped off, stretching her long tanned legs. Mitch jumped out like a rabid toad and ran across the clearing, pretending to be a fighter jet over Grenada.
Dad went up to Clara, and started signing in what resembled hand gestures.
“You two are such rascals,” Dad said, “I oughta hogtie the two of youse to keep ya settled!”
Unbeknownst to first-time observers, Clara and her family are Deaf. They communicate via sign language. Clara and Mitch go to the Florida School for the Deaf and the Blind in St. Augustine, a mere hour away from their home in Jacksonville.
Today, Clara was wearing a grey t-shirt with ASL fingerspelling emblazoned across the fabric. The shirt, a fashion staple in the Deaf community, was won in a Homecoming shirt raffle over a year ago.
Dad went to the back of the van and opened the rear doors. He pulled out a Polaroid camera from one of the black duffel bags behind Clara’s pillow and sheets.
He also brought out a roll of duct tape, its black glimmering layer dulled under the forest’s evergreen shade.
“You know, this gives me an idea,” Dad said. “What better way to remember this moment than a picture? Remember the moment I had to tie up you two vandals?”
He grinned beneath his thick brown mustache.
Clara stared at her father blankly. She rolled her eyes, “Dad, that’s just stupid. You can count me out.”
Dad signalled for Mitch, near the shady glen and now sufficiently stretched with spent energy. “Hey, Mitch! I want to take a photo of the time I had to lasso you and your sister! What do ya say?!”
Mitch, being the hyper, agreeable son, couldn’t say no to his Dad. No, sir.
Clara had already re-entered the van, reading My Sweet Audrina, a popular psychological horror novel for young women at the time. So twisted and macabre, Clara thought. She propped her feet up comfortably on the back of the passenger’s seat.
Mitch leaped over her legs and landed on the pillow beside her.
“Ow!” Clara cried, “You almost landed on my knees, you freak!”
Mitch stretched out a piece of duct tape and firmly planted it against his lips. He eagerly handed the roll to his sister.
“Dad said we have to,” Mitch said through signs.
Clara turned to see her Dad on her right side, excitedly holding a Polaroid box camera. His eyes beckoned her fun-loving cooperation.
“Fine,” Clara groaned. She grabbed the tape roll and tore off a strip. She pressed it against her annoyed, subdued mouth and put the book down to her side. Placing her hands behind her back, Clara looked straight at the camera’s light bulb eye.
Mitch followed suit.
The Polaroid’s flash was momentarily blinding.
It’s bad enough that we’re deaf, Clara thought. Now we gotta be blind, too?
The camera’s line-shaped mouth rolled out a square-shaped photograph, obscured by a brown blur which quickly abated. Dad laughed in glee.
“I can see the caption when this goes into the vacation photo album!” he said, “Something like … ‘Got the Two Rascals Rounded Up!’ It’s perfect!”
Dad handed the photo to Clara, “Put it with all the other photos so we don’t lose it, okay?” Clara gave him the sign for “okay” in response.
“So we’re almost at Port St. Joe,” Dad said. “I’ll go to the first gas station I find. Do you kids want anything when we get there? Bathroom, maybe?”
Clara and Mitch shook their heads, “We’re good.”
Dad went back up front to the driver’s seat and the trio took off, on their way to Panama City to enjoy the salty breeze and sandy splendor.
All the trio had was each other. Their wife and mother passed on from cancer over a year ago. And all they had was each other…
The hearing world was like the populace of a different country living on their turf. They lived across their street in Jacksonville and next-door, too. They were everywhere. The hearing world couldn’t possibly understand the goofy things they did as a family. No, no.
If there was some nationwide controversy involving these three, they’d be better off hiding underground, and not caring to explain themselves or offer their version of events. No, no.
What would people think of us? What would they think of all us Deaf folks?
Sometimes it’s best to just stay quiet … and enjoy life.
I hope you enjoyed the story, folks. Hit “Like” on this post and follow ToomStone through email! Take care!