TES's search is NOT entirely over.
Earlier today I spoke with TES’s second-in-command at the Orlando search site, and she asked me to tell you that "searchers are still out, and the search will resume tomorrow." While I was on the phone, she confirmed this with Tim Miller.
I can only speculate about the reasons we're getting conflicting information from totally reliable sources (such as David Lohr), but I suspect it has much to do with TES trying to balance stark Reality against Determination and Commitment.
The turnout of searchers, especially today, looked pitifully small considering the areas needing to be thoroughly searched. If you haven't actually been at any of these sites, forget the mowed fields we saw on Murt's cameras and forget the media's aerial shots of picturesque clearings surrounded by woods and bounded by pretty vegetation.
The truth is that Orlando has sprouted up in the midst of hundreds of thousands of acres of swampy, alligator-infested, snake-infested, areas of dense foliage and trees. When you're up close and personal, at the edge of that barrier of trees and bushes, things look a lot different and a lot more foreboding.
To give you an idea, last month, on a sunny cheerful morning, I was privileged to be alone with 8 TES and LE people at the site where the Size 6 Disney dress was discovered. The site bordered a perfectly civilized 2 lane road directly behind an industrial complex, and while LE's amazing dogs darted in and out along the road, I decided I should make myself useful and do a little exploring like the others we’re doing.
I walked right up to that impenetrable barrier of thick green, shoved some branches aside, stepped forward, and realized that 20 feet in front of me there was an enchanting little pond surrounded by rocks and shaded with overhanging branches. I started to take another step forward when a middle-aged LE guy pleasantly insisted, “Here, let’s throw a couple stones in there first.” He handed me a stone roughly the size and shape of a hockey puck and kept a similar stone in his hand for himself.
Privately, I thought this was a very inappropriate time for us to have a “skipping stones” contest, but I acquiesced because, after all, he’s LE, and so I obediently flung my stone at the pond. I overshot the pond by an embarrassing distance, probably because my heart wasn’t in the game, or more likely, because I have lousy depth perception. “Your turn,” I told him, expecting him to mock my clumsy attempt, but all he did was hurl his own stone directly into the underbrush surrounding the edge of the pond. His shot wasn’t a whole lot better than mine, and I was going to mention that to him, but as his rock landed he whispered sort of imperatively, “Listen.”
I heard it immediately--a mysterious, exotic orchestra of Latin maracas. I’m a city girl, and I was enchanted by this unprecedented glimpse into Florida’s flora, fauna, and especially these delightfully noisy insects or frogs or whatever. “What’s making that sound?” I asked in a reverent whisper, tiptoeing forward another step.
He put a restraining hand on my arm. “Rattlesnakes.”
Even an Olympic medalist couldn't have competed with me that day in the "Screaming while Running" event that took place next.
Sorry this was so long. I wanted to help relieve the awful frustration and helplessness we're all feeling.
raying: for you.
