Samantha Runnion’s story touched so many lives

SOUL FOOD

Among the photos I have on my mantel, is a photo of my sister’s

daughter, Kellen. She is perched on a boulder at the edge of a river

whose name I no longer remember.

In the picture, Kellen is 5. She is tiny. Her eyes sparkle. She

wears bangs. A mop of sun-kissed curls falls to her shoulders. She

looks out to the camera with a pristine mix of trust and expectancy.

Kellen will be 19 in November, but I can’t bring myself to pack

that photograph away. In it, captured along with her likeness, is a

portrait of all that is holy about childhood -- eager and

transparent. On July 14, Parade magazine ran a cover story with the

headline, “What We Must Do to Protect Our Children.” It’s not one of

my regular reads. But on this Sunday, the young and expectant face of

7-year-old Megan Kanka on the cover drew me in. Megan had been raped

and murdered in 1994.

The next day, Samantha Runnion was kidnapped. She was carried off,

kicking and screaming, right in front of her 6-year-old friend Sarah

Ahn as the girls played outside their homes in Stanton. What, indeed,

must we do to protect our children?

Samantha’s front-page photo in Tuesday’s paper gave me a start.

She was so tiny. Her eyes sparkled. She wore bangs. A mop of

sun-kissed curls fell to her shoulders. I could have been looking

into the eyes of Kellen.

That afternoon, I passed out wanted fliers bearing photos of

Samantha and her abductor. I pinned one up in my kitchen. As I washed

dishes, fed the cat and cooked, I prayed first for Samantha’s safe

return. Then when her small, lifeless body was found, I prayed for

the arrest of her killer. I was far from alone in my prayers. Just

days after Samantha was taken, the memorial outside her home had

grown so huge and unwieldy that her family and neighbors decided it

was best to take it down. The numbers expected to attend her memorial

were so great, the

Crystal Cathedral offered the use of its 3,000-seat sanctuary to

her family for the service. Still, thousands of mourners were left

standing outside on the lawn.

Months before Samantha’s kidnapping and death, Danielle van Dam

had been similarly snatched from her San Diego home, assaulted and

murdered, her body abandoned in a remote wilderness area. Ashley Pond

and Miranda Gaddis went missing in Oregon this year. Elizabeth Smart

was taken from her Utah bedroom just last month. She, too, remains

missing.

As I stood outside the Crystal Cathedral last week among hundreds

of families with children -- some as old as Samantha, many of them

much younger -- I had to wonder: What was it about this little girl

that captivated the hearts of this world so much -- much more than

other families’ beloved and sweet young daughters?

I have asked dozens of moms. I’ve read dozens of letters and

stories. Yet, I still have not found the answer that will quiet that

question.

The cover story in Parade said we are not helpless. It said we

have the power to change the behavior of predatory pedophiles. It

just didn’t say how. It said we could close one pathway to evil: We

can refuse to exempt religious organizations from mandated-reporter

laws. And, surely, we can.

But that wouldn’t have saved Danielle. And it wouldn’t have saved

Samantha.

I can only imagine that a building sense of helplessness has

something to do with how hard Samantha’s death wrenched so many of

our hearts.

Samantha will never be 19. Neither will Danielle. They will never

finish their first year of college or buy their first car the way

Kellen did this year. They will never go to the prom or spend their

first paycheck. They will never feel their first love’s kiss.

Perhaps, God-willing, Ashley and Miranda and Elizabeth still will.

If we don’t forget them.

* MICHELE MARR is a freelance writer and graphic designer from

Huntington Beach. She has been interested in religion and ethics for

as long as she can remember. She can be reached at

[email protected].