The FBI is ringing doorbells, asking for any video surveillance of the street and permission to search your yard.
There are news crews trying to find something to report.
The sheriff admits that releasing the house back to the family before the FBI arrived with its forensic magic might not have been a great idea.
There are tearful pleas for information and contact, heartbreaking in their honesty.
Friends and relatives and relatives of friends have reached out to be sure I'm okay. TBG was anxious about my Saturday foray to Grandma's Garden; being alone, even behind a gate I'd be sure to lock behind me, just didn't seem safe to him.
Ransom. Kidnapping.
It's a hell of a world, denizens.
"It's a hell of a world": truer, sadder words never spoken.
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