There is no cure for the pain in Richard Davis' heart. There is no escaping it, no medicine for it, no surgery that can make it better. At night while lying in bed, or out on the highway when he is alone with his thoughts, he thinks about it and feels an ache deep in his chest.
Scott G. Winterton, Deseret Morning NewsTamara and Richard Davis have left the porch light on since Kiplyn vanished.
The last words he said to Kiplyn.
There's a tombstone in the cemetery with Kiplyn's name on it. The Davises are certain she has left this world, and they've known it since the first days of her disappearance; known it in their bones. And yet they still keep the front porch light on, waiting for her return. For more than 10 years the light has shined, night and day. When the bulb burns out, they replace it, even if it's in the dead of a winter night, even if it means borrowing a bulb from another fixture in the house because they've run out of new bulbs. The neighbors and the mailman have knocked on the door to tell them: Your light is out.
"I just want to bring my girl home," says Davis, as he stands on his front porch, under the light on a recent afternoon.
When he gets on his knees at night, he prays for three things: Please, bring Kiplyn home. Please, soften people's hearts. Please, provide a clue and help the police agencies find her.
She vanished on a cool wet day, May 2, 1995. It rained hard most of the day, letting up late in the afternoon. When Davis returned home from work at about 5 p.m. and didn't find Kiplyn there, he knew immediately something was wrong. That wasn't like her. She always returned from school at about 3:30 and then called her mother at work.
"You could set your watch by her," says Davis.
He called Tamara, who said she hadn't heard from Kiplyn. Davis drove to the high school, but no one there had seen her. During the next few hours, he drove to a church youth activity to see if she was there and then back to the high school to see if she had shown up at play practice.
He called the police. They dismissed it as a runaway case and said she would probably turn up soon. Davis knew his daughter was no runaway.
Eight years later, when Elizabeth Smart disappeared, the media-savvy Smarts put her face on TV and in newspapers and on the Internet almost immediately, largely through press conferences.
The Davises had none of this working for them. It was more than two weeks before the first press conference. The Davises were on their own, which was a frightful, overwhelming prospect. The day after the disappearance, extended family gathered to discuss the situation. Karissa, only 10 at the time, suggested fliers. They printed the fliers themselves at a local print shop and posted them in Spanish Fork, Springville and Payson.
"We did it all ourselves," says Davis. "The police had no clue. I wasn't Tom Smart. I'm just a contractor. We begged the police for help and then would tell them how to do it."
http://deseretnews.com/dn/view/0,1249,635171683,00.html