I was in third grade. Nine years old. I had just started at a new school in downtown Jacksonville. It was the beginning of the 2006-2007 school year, and you had called my school, claiming to be my father, and said for me to get on the bus to go to the doughnut shop, where my bus stop was for my dad's house, for a reason I have long since forgotten about.
At the end of the day, I got on the bus for my dad's house, and went on my way, completely unaware that something was wrong. My nine-year-old brain oblivious to the fact that I was possibly going to be kidnapped. When I got off, I didn't see my dad's car, which was normal, but he was usually a few minutes late anyways.
When my dad hadn't show up, and preschool van pulled up, and the lady asked where my parents were. I told her what had happened. She promly called my father, and as it turns out, he was still at work because he never even called the school.
To whomever made the call, I have no idea who you are, nor do I care. All I want is to have an explanation to why you did it, and how you managed to get away with it. I may never get the explanation, but all I can do is ask.
And to the lady with the preschool van, thank you. You may not remember me, but I remember you. If you hadn't stopped when you did, I wouldn't be here writing this.
