mouth water.
Seeing the direction of my glance, Martha said, “I don’t recommend them. Our head librarian bought that cookbook Daughters of the Desert published last month, and she’s working her way through the pastry section with
very
mixed results. The coffee’s okay. If you need anything else, just ask.” She paused, and added. “You know, we’re all heartbroken.”
“Over Precious Doe?”
“Of course, the poor lamb. But over Tujin, too.” With that, she closed the door, leaving me alone.
Thanks to the film Martha had preselected, I immediately found what I needed. The first mention of the missing Iraqi girl was tucked in the bottom right corner of the front page of the Monday, June 25, 2001, edition of the
Cochise County Observer
. Underneath the same, sad-eyed school photograph I had seen earlier, the story read:
GIRL MISSING
Los Perdidos—The parents of Tujin Rafik, a seven-year-old Los Perdidos girl, reported her missing last night when she failed to reach a friend’s house where she was supposed to attend a birthday party.
Her father, Meki Rafik, 46, who works at Apache Chemical Company, said, “This is a safe neighborhood, and Tujin told us she would be fine to walk there. When it grew dark and she was not back, I called the parents. The mother answered and told me Tujin was not expected at the party. I asked to talk to the father, but he said the same. Why would my daughter lie to me about this? I do not understand.”
Tujin’s mother, Ciwangul Rafik, 22, was unavailable for comment.
Sheriff Bill Avery said that if the girl wasn’t found soon, he and his deputies would conduct a house-to-house search. “The father told us that because of her language difficulties Tujin was having trouble in school, so there’s every chance that this is just a runaway. We’ll probably find her at a friend’s house. But don’t worry, we’ll stay on this until the child is reunited with her family.”
Yes, I’d missed a couple of things when Jimmy had shown me the articles back in Scottsdale. For starters, the age of the missing girl’s mother—twenty-two—meant that she had given birth at fifteen. Her husband was more than twice her age.
Another thing that made me uneasy now was Sheriff Avery’s quote about Tujin’s supposed language difficulties. The girl’s father certainly spoke fluently enough in the article, and I knew from my own experience that immigrant children learned new languages even more quickly than their parents. Perhaps the reporter had tidied up the father’s quotes, a not-uncommon journalistic practice.
For the rest of the week and the weeks thereafter, the
Observer
expressed increasing concern over the missing girl. The Sunday issue on September 9, 2001, ran a large feature about Tujin. The headline over her picture said it all:
HOPE FADES FOR TUJIN
Los Perdidos—Although searchers have followed numerous leads and repeatedly combed the area for clues leading to the disappearance of Tujin Rafik, 7, who went missing from Los Perdidos three months ago, no trace of her has been found.
“We’re not giving up,” said Sheriff Bill Avery, who was interviewed at his office for this story. “My deputies and I, along with hundreds of volunteers, have contributed thousands of man hours to the search, and we’ll continue to search until we bring Tujin home.”
Requests for interviews with Tujin Rafik’s parents went unanswered. Their neighbors say they are too devastated to speak.
“Those poor people,” said Janice Whitewood, 33, who lives next door to the Rafik family. “They went through hell with that awful Saddam, then they escaped to Turkey where they were treated like dirt because they belonged to some kind of minority. They expected a better life here, but instead, they’ve lost their little girl. Now they won’t even come out of their house. So much for America being better than any place else, huh?”
Here the day-to-day coverage about Tujin Rafik’s
Seeing the direction of my glance, Martha said, “I don’t recommend them. Our head librarian bought that cookbook Daughters of the Desert published last month, and she’s working her way through the pastry section with
very
mixed results. The coffee’s okay. If you need anything else, just ask.” She paused, and added. “You know, we’re all heartbroken.”
“Over Precious Doe?”
“Of course, the poor lamb. But over Tujin, too.” With that, she closed the door, leaving me alone.
Thanks to the film Martha had preselected, I immediately found what I needed. The first mention of the missing Iraqi girl was tucked in the bottom right corner of the front page of the Monday, June 25, 2001, edition of the
Cochise County Observer
. Underneath the same, sad-eyed school photograph I had seen earlier, the story read:
GIRL MISSING
Los Perdidos—The parents of Tujin Rafik, a seven-year-old Los Perdidos girl, reported her missing last night when she failed to reach a friend’s house where she was supposed to attend a birthday party.
Her father, Meki Rafik, 46, who works at Apache Chemical Company, said, “This is a safe neighborhood, and Tujin told us she would be fine to walk there. When it grew dark and she was not back, I called the parents. The mother answered and told me Tujin was not expected at the party. I asked to talk to the father, but he said the same. Why would my daughter lie to me about this? I do not understand.”
Tujin’s mother, Ciwangul Rafik, 22, was unavailable for comment.
Sheriff Bill Avery said that if the girl wasn’t found soon, he and his deputies would conduct a house-to-house search. “The father told us that because of her language difficulties Tujin was having trouble in school, so there’s every chance that this is just a runaway. We’ll probably find her at a friend’s house. But don’t worry, we’ll stay on this until the child is reunited with her family.”
Yes, I’d missed a couple of things when Jimmy had shown me the articles back in Scottsdale. For starters, the age of the missing girl’s mother—twenty-two—meant that she had given birth at fifteen. Her husband was more than twice her age.
Another thing that made me uneasy now was Sheriff Avery’s quote about Tujin’s supposed language difficulties. The girl’s father certainly spoke fluently enough in the article, and I knew from my own experience that immigrant children learned new languages even more quickly than their parents. Perhaps the reporter had tidied up the father’s quotes, a not-uncommon journalistic practice.
For the rest of the week and the weeks thereafter, the
Observer
expressed increasing concern over the missing girl. The Sunday issue on September 9, 2001, ran a large feature about Tujin. The headline over her picture said it all:
HOPE FADES FOR TUJIN
Los Perdidos—Although searchers have followed numerous leads and repeatedly combed the area for clues leading to the disappearance of Tujin Rafik, 7, who went missing from Los Perdidos three months ago, no trace of her has been found.
“We’re not giving up,” said Sheriff Bill Avery, who was interviewed at his office for this story. “My deputies and I, along with hundreds of volunteers, have contributed thousands of man hours to the search, and we’ll continue to search until we bring Tujin home.”
Requests for interviews with Tujin Rafik’s parents went unanswered. Their neighbors say they are too devastated to speak.
“Those poor people,” said Janice Whitewood, 33, who lives next door to the Rafik family. “They went through hell with that awful Saddam, then they escaped to Turkey where they were treated like dirt because they belonged to some kind of minority. They expected a better life here, but instead, they’ve lost their little girl. Now they won’t even come out of their house. So much for America being better than any place else, huh?”
Here the day-to-day coverage about Tujin Rafik’s
Similar Books
