January 22 2017
For immediate release
AN OPEN LETTER TO THE LAPD/MPU FROM MARICELA GARCIA
My name is Maricela Garcia. I don’t believe we have met yet so I would like to introduce myself. My daughter is also named Maricela Garcia. You might recognize her name but I would be surprised if you did.
My daughter went missing on January 12 2017 from the Goodwill in Reseda. That choker in your evidence room? That was her favorite thing to wear. I swear she would sleep and shower in it if she could! If you look at it now, it’s obvious from the way it looked to have been ripped off her neck, that she will never wear it again. It’s all torn and tattered. I cannot allow myself to think of how it came to be that way.
Maricela is my first-born daughter. I’d always dreamed of having a girl and there she was, all love and light and beauty. I was so thrilled and so proud when my husband insisted on naming her after me. I felt like I didn’t deserve to have the same name as this precious little person. Did you know that she wanted to be a princess when she grew up? She used to wear her crown and her pink, glitter covered dress and twirl around the house to music only she could hear. Her daddy told her there was never a more beautiful princess than she and he was right. Our little princess Bella.
She has always been so loving and sweet. Every Mother’s Day from the time she was two until this past Mother’s Day, she has always made me a card. They’ve changed over the years. The childish scrawl has turned into flowing script with i’s dotted with hearts even now. I can’t imagine a Mother’s Day without her. When I heard that her scent ended at a dumpster and they found her choker next to it, I became so afraid that I would have to. But then the police came. You took the torn choker and we told you what the dog search team had said. I knew that you would find her. That you would search high and low and bring my baby home. It broke my heart when my son told me you couldn’t do anything. That you WOULDN’T pull the tape from the Kaiser building where she had hidden. That you WOULDN’T have your dogs come out and smell for her precious scent. Or even check the dumpster for clues, or call the trash company. Why?
You see, I don’t know if you have a daughter, but daughters are God’s gift to the world. Maricela was perfect, my little doll. Speaking of dolls, Maricela’s childhood in one word? Barbie! Oh, how she loved Barbies. They were so real to her. She loved them and took care of them, even tucked them in at night. Barbie went everywhere she did. Maricela was so happy to be their mommy, just like I was so thrilled to be hers.
She eventually outgrew those Barbies and became more of a young woman. Such an amazing person, she is. Talented and kind. Fiercely protective of her little sister. Barbies were replaced by something much more precious, a baby sister named Sarah. That is how I knew something was wrong. Because a mother knows these things. I know in my heart that Maricela would never leave her sister alone in the rainy night with no way to get into the car and no phone. We tried to tell you that but you seemed to think that she just ran away. We tried to tell you that Maricela is so shy and has never been in trouble. Instead, we read in the paper that she had run away before! Where did that come from? No such thing ever happened! You wouldn’t even look at the cameras or check for clues. We even told you the two ladies at the church had seen her. You never talked to them or the two men that scared Sarah that same night. Why?
But back to my story. As she grew up, she matured so quickly. She was always so responsible and such a homebody. Very rarely did she go out. In fact, the night before she went missing, I sat at my kitchen table and watched my two girls, my world, sit on the couch and paint their nails. They were chatting about their day and laughing. It felt so good. Everything felt so right with the world that night. Maricela had been upset in the days before that. She tried to hide it from me but I knew. She was scared of something and I tried to ask what was going on but she didn’t want to worry me. She was always so worried about me and I should have been more worried for her. I overheard her on the phone one night but I couldn’t hear the words. You know, the phone the searchers found in the mud? Remember, it was smashed and the battery and what my son said was called the Sim card was missing. That phone. Edgar told me when he saw it, he knew then something bad had happened. By a dumpster behind the Goodwill like it had been tossed out of a car. He didn’t want to tell me but I made him. I need to know what is happening. I’m so lost without my Maricela.
On Saturday, I listened to the team talk about the search dogs. They talked about where Maricela had been. The church. They said she sat in a pew. Why would she do that when she was shopping with her sister? What made her go to the church? Do you know? Was it supposed to be a safe place? Do you know why she ran out the side door looking scared and upset? Did someone else come into the church then or follow her out that door? Have you talked to her friends to see what might have been wrong? Or the women who saw her there? Oh, that’s right. You haven’t.
I heard them say they thought she had hidden in places and that it seemed like she was running from something or someone. I thought my heart would break. My beautiful Maricela in fear running for her life. Terrified, alone, with no one to help. Can you imagine? Who was after her? Have you tried to find out? Please. The searchers talked to the businesses. They have the video from that night. There are cameras pointing right at where my baby girl was so scared, running, hiding. She was crossing across parking lots and backtracking. She even hid at the front door of that Kaiser building. There are cameras right there. Can you look at them, please? When we asked the security guard, he said he would be happy to help and give them to you. He was so sorry he couldn’t just let us see them. He didn’t understand when we told him that you had told us to do whatever we needed to do to find her. He didn’t understand why no one from the police had already asked.
I don’t want to take up much more of your time. I could go on forever about my daughter and I know you are busy. You must have much more important cases. Case, what a strange word. My gorgeous, talented, tender-hearted daughter reduced to one word. Case. But see, MY daughter is YOUR case. Do you feel some kind of obligation or responsibility to her? She’s YOURS just like she is MINE. No one can see her like I do and no one can love her like I do but maybe you can try? I would give my life to have you make one phone call, watch one video, talk to one person. I would do ANYTHING to bring my child home where she belongs. I don’t know how. That is why I trust you, the police, the detective. YOU must bring my Maricela home to me. YOU must find her. I cannot live without her. She is my everything. I am pleading with you, PLEASE find out who she was running from that night. PLEASE find out why she was hiding and why she was so scared. PLEASE find out why her scent ended in that dumpster in the very far corner of a dark parking lot where no one would have gone by themselves. But most of all, PLEASE FIND MY DAUGHTER.
I am entrusting you with my most precious gift. My daughter, Maricela Garcia.
Signed
Maricela Garcia
