Lost Girl

A couple of weeks ago, I attended a presentation on human trafficking hosted by G.H.O.S.T. (Genesee Human Oppression Strike Team). G.H.O.S.T.  is a critical piece of law enforcement working to protect Genesee County communities from the threat of sexual predators and sex trafficking. The presentation was shocking, devastating, and deeply informative. No matter how many times I hear them speak, their stories and statistics always affect me profoundly.

During the presentation, a slide appeared showing a quote from a survivor thanking the team for rescuing her and saving her life. At that moment, one of the presenters pointed at me and said, "Remember her, you were part of that story." At first, I wasn’t sure if she was actually pointing to me, and I had completely forgotten about the specific case she was referencing. I must have looked like a deer caught in the headlights, feeling slightly confused for the rest of the presentation. I kept thinking, "Surely she wasn’t referring to me." After the presentation, the speaker, a detective I know who works on human trafficking cases, approached me and reminded me of the case she was talking about. A few years ago, I had contacted her about a missing girl, asking her to keep an eye out for her.

Let me tell you about this young woman. Her younger sister was a friend of my daughter’s back when they were in junior high. They knew each other from a church youth group. Although I didn’t know her parents well, I knew they lived in a nice house in our quiet little town. I had driven her home a couple of times. The older sister, the one this story is about, seemed like a typical teenager—hardworking and always holding a job. I only saw her a handful of times until years later when she came to us for food from the pantry we ran.

The change in her was shocking. She was much thinner, and her once thick, beautiful hair was now thin and dull. Despite this, she still had the same sweet smile. She told us she had gotten a boyfriend who introduced her to drugs. From that point on, and for the next couple of years, we walked with her through addiction, rehab, abuse from her boyfriend, breakups, getting back together, losing a baby, and endless heartache. She would come around for a couple of weeks, then disappear for weeks on end. I had some tough, honest conversations with her, but I tried to show her love and kindness through it all.

Then, one day, her mother contacted me, worried. No of her family or friends had heard from her in weeks. People her mother reached out to were dismissive, having written her off as just another “druggy.” I didn’t know what to do other than pray, keep trying to contact her, and message the one detective I knew who searched for young women like her every day. I gave her a description of the young woman and shared any detail that might help find her. It was hard to have hope and I couldn’t stop imagining the worst—that she was dead from an overdose in some abandoned house or, worse, murdered and buried in the middle of nowhere.

Two weeks later, this young woman was found during a raid on a house just ten miles from the sleepy little town she grew up in. She was chained in a basement with other young women, drugged, and subjected to horrific abuse. My detective friend was one of the officers who freed her that night, proving to me once again what a hero she is.

After that, the young woman spent more time at the Center of Hope, just to stay busy and distracted. She worked alongside other volunteers in silence, simply not wanting to be alone. She was in counseling and recovering from addiction. It was heartbreaking to watch her struggle to heal from all she had endured. During that time, she wrote a letter to the team that rescued her, thanking them for saving her life. A part of that letter was the quote shown in the presentation I mentioned at the beginning of this story.

I wish I could say she’s now thriving and that her life has completely turned around, but the truth is, I don’t know. I know she’s alive, but she’s drifted away from me and the Center of Hope. She knows we’re always here for her, and I hope and pray that someday she will return. Until then, I continue to pray for her safety and wellbeing.

This is a heartbreaking story, but it’s important to share because it reminds us that this can happen to anyone, anywhere. This young woman was a beautiful, healthy, outgoing girl who graduated from high school, had a family that loved her, and lived in a beautiful house. But one boyfriend led her down a path that drastically altered the course of her life. This could happen to your daughter, granddaughter, neighbor, or the sweet girl you see at church every Sunday.

This world is a dark and dangerous place, and we need to love and encourage our young people more than ever. At the Center of Hope, we offer free counseling, as well as classes and resources for those struggling with identity, addiction, self-harm, eating disorders, relationships, and other issues that keep people from true freedom. I believe with all my heart that God has a plan and purpose for each person. But I also believe there’s an enemy who will do whatever he can to whisper lies and thwart those plans. 

You can make a difference. Understand that this can happen anywhere. If you have suspicions that someone is a victim, show kindness to them even if they behave strangely. Pay attention to changes in their behavior. Look for clues that they may be in distress and need help.

You may not realize it, but you could be helping to save a life.