A Rainy Day in Georgia

We travelled up from Florida through the cotton fields and misty lakes of Alabama and on into Georgia and the rain soaked wasteland of Atlanta.  

Emily should have been at the Winn-Dixie on Beck and 23rd in Panama City at 10.00am but Sheila did not show nor was there any contact yet we drove over 800 miles to get there from Richmond, Virginia.

So far this week we have covered over 2,500 miles and by the time the trip is finished it will be over 3,000 but no Emily at the end of it.

I'm holed up in a motel in Georgia after meeting with Dave Thelen from the Committee for Missing Children last night; I'd spoken with him many times on the telephone over the years but this was the first opportunity to sit down with him and share that beer we had been promising each other for four years.

His grandchildren were staying at the house and his eldest grand-daughter and I played Wii bowling and true to form I showed absolutely no mercy; yes I know you're very cute but I have been well trained by my eldest daughter in the UK and trust me, 6 year olds cannot be shown any mercy nor trace of weakness!

Playing with this beautiful little girl, she reminded me constantly of what Emily and I were missing; they are the same age, the same colour of hair and I have no doubt, the same infectious laugh and demeanour that all little girls have and especially in the eyes of their fathers.  

I have very mixed feelings; depressed because Emily and I were not allowed to see each other and yet, I also believe this is the start of another road to demonstrating why Sheila should not be allowed to have primary residency of Emily.

No sooner had I arrived in Panama City than Sheila and her sister, Debbie Martin commenced calling the police claiming threats and harassment.  Patsy and I actually went into the police station in order to collect any police reports that had already been filed; several had been filed dating back over a year and less than a day despite this being my first visit to Panama City and as luck would have it, there was Sheila's car in the lot because she was in the station filing yet another.

I'm going to kidnap Emily, I'm violent, I will abuse Emily and on and on and on ad nauseum this goes.

The police are powerless; court orders have less value than the used toilet tissue flushed down the bowl each morning and the calendar continues to count down the erosion and destruction of one of the two most important relationships Emily can have in her childhood; a relationship with her mom and with her dad.

I'm all out of emotion, it's time to just become ice inside and not feel the pain or distress; it won't help Emily and it won't get me to where I intend to be; playing with a rumbunctious little cheeky-faced girl who squeals when she gets a strike on the Wii.

Meanwhile, Georgia needs the rain because it will hide my tears if I give in to my feelings.