'CRIME-TIME' those less fortunate............. written by- tomevans:

Christmas has changed alot over the years, and the true spirit behind the name of the holiday has been buried beneath the commercialism and hype that only benefit the retailer. It's a binge of hypocrisy, all lit up with little lights and glistening strands of decoration. There was a time, not long ago it seems, when Christmas meant that no matter what, on this one day- there would be shelter for all those who are lonely, poor, or even worse 'all alone'...........

CHRISTMAS, l970: Iowa-

He told me his mother went from angry, to bitter, to sad & isolated as the years wore on. This was the Christmas of l970 in Harvest Falls, Iowa- or at least the day when over a foot of snow covered this part of the midwest, the day that a sister vanished, and the day that his parents' marriage began to crumble into pieces. It would become a day that he tried so desperately to black-out from his mind. Banish all thoughts related to this cold gloomy day, 32 years ago. He lived with the memory of a pretty, shy, sweet little girl- but this memory isn't filled with joy and sembelence, rather it is one of "nightmarish" quality and lasting impressions. He was haunted by this memory and all of the years of brainwashing and beatings, still hadn't fazed this recollection of terror that he had neatly stored in his brain for the next 32 years............

Christmas at Home" James told me that Christmas day simply meant a possibility of maybe an hours worth of "peace & quiet", a break from the "violence". Of course after the holiday cheer had been timidly orchestrated, and there would be a flashback of normalcy for a brief moment- then out would pop the booze and in would set the storm. The Christmas of l970 was a blur at best, and there was a certain gift that stood out in James Whittaker's imprint of the day's events, a pretty doll with snow white colored hair and the most beautiful dress ever created for a doll. Although he had been assured for the past 30 years that no such doll ever existed, he still could vision the doll. He could remember the dolls eyes flickering in the dull lamp light of the smoke filled living room, but try as he might- could not remember the eyes of the little girl who once, for a split second in life, held that doll and felt a glimmer of hope. He was only 4 years old in l970, still he could never forget..............

He went five years once, without asking about the missing girl that he had hardly nothing but a musty memory, that he couldn't escape. He tried many ways to release this burden and guilt that has weighed him down over these treachorous years. He wanted to know the truth and he was running out of time quickly. His parents were aging fast, silence had hardened their already cold nature, and James no longer recieved any conversation with his mother and father- especially surrounding the mysterious "ghost" that he was sure, had been hiding in the family closet his entire life. He bottled up his suspicions and questions for so long, it was finally eating away inside of him and even though he knew that no explanation or remorse could ever make the tragedy seem 'justified'- for his sake he needed a small amount of closure. It's hard to live a normal existence with such a knot of deceit tied around everything, he had tried, but without any success. Still, it almost went null & void until recently, and then came the discovery.............

The home that James Whittaker shared with his parents, Mitchell & Helen, throughout his childhood & young adult years had been sold and then something happened that would change James Whittaker's life forever, he come to me and told me the story that he said was December 25th, l970. In all of the dreams and nightmares that had constantly danced through his foggy thoughts throughout his journey through life, he could see a face- but without eyes & a look of expression. She would appear in the same brown plaid dress, clapping her hands after each gift that he opened. It seemed like he'd opened a thousand different presents on that Christmas but all he could remember is the doll. He remembers a girl holding the doll and rocking back & forth, and the skimpy Christmas tree in the background. He remembers hearing the name Holly scattered throughout the rest of his days as the only child of the.

at this time James needed to break: the time is 4:29 pm:

CHAPTER TWO/ He tried to ask about 'Holly' & what had happened to her after l970. He would always be told that it was "hard tellin'". After he turned l6-years-old in high school, he gradually stopped mentioning the subject. His mother & father slowly became chronic drunkards and his mom struggled the most with the guilt. As he got older, she tried to instigate conversations about the eerie girl but she would stop and drift off into her dark little world again.

No photo's existed of the girl and neither did any reminders, if she had been there- for some reason, it was 'tabboo' & off limits. He said that he doubted if his parents knew then that 35 years later- her remains would be found. The body of a child, approximately 7-9 years old, female, with visible signs of abuse. His family had lived in the house for three decades, and noone could have buried this child except for his parents. That night he had the nightmare: He could see his sister, as just a set of human remains- dancing in a brown plaid dress, long brown hair, and no eyes or expression. It was even more bizarre because a dream adds so much effect to a bad dream or nightmare. It adds the imagination and the degree of uncertainty that lay around every turn and stomach churning drop. Once again, he was finding himself lying awake and unable to sleep at all. And then he went to visit his mother in the hospital- for what would be the very last time, alive.......................

"DEATH-BED CONFESSION"/ Gray, ashen, and clinging to the final breath- Helen Whittaker whispered into his ear, words she swore she'd take with her, to her grave. "I killed Holly, just me, just me". She gasped her last breath and died, waiting until the very last seconds to confess her sins' and to escape the horror of it all. Almost dying without the chance to whisper that confession. He had lived his childhood being hit on by this mean-spirited and hateful woman. Living under her rule and obeying her every word, doing as "she said & not as she did". Her constant spew of anger and ridicule had made a nervous wreck out of him, his anxiety and panic levels were always set to trigger from any response. It ultimately gave him degree of maturity and strength, but it taught little about the importance of love and nurishment. Holly Whittaker, he knows now, was adopted by his mother & father in l966. She was five years old when his parents began to raise her and she carried the family name. Not for long. At the age of nine, Holly disappeared from the face of the earth and was never spoken of or heard from again. His years of abuse included being locked in rooms for days at a time. Being beaten with objects, electrocuted, and starved for long periods of time. There were always two or three days a year, when there was a possibility of peace & quiet for a few hours. Christmas and birthdays were always 'decent'. The rest of the time, as he now recalls, was a nightmare that never ended. A loud, violent, scream of protest and verbal assault that held no boundaries and followed no set of society's rules. He compared it to being held down, against your will, and being laughed at while you fight to get free. When anyone around him would raise their voice, arguing or angrily, he'd get very nervous and shaky. Even as an adult. All of this environment from his past was beginning to emerge, so very vivid and disturbing, still he had survived the ordeal. Why? Because he was their biological child & Holly was adopted? Did Holly have abnormalties that he was unaware of? Was it because he was a boy? He struggled with the "why?" throughout this unsettled and unsolved mystery, now he had the who, the when, the where, but he really could never figure out a why. He went to visit his father in Iowa............

His father, Mitchell Whittaker, had suffered through a couple of heart attacks in recent years, still he was in fair shape. He knew that his father played a small role, a role nonetheless, but still he played a small role in his sisters murder all those years ago. At lst he squirmed and wiggled as they began talking about Holly and just what really did happen to her. He told James that she burnt the girls finger tips severely, and beat on her with a ball bat something pitiful. He buried the girl, who was skin & bones, at the base of the house and planted rose bushes to mark her place. He spent the rest of his life trying to live with his mistake. His father had told him that it ate mom & dad alive the rest of their marriage and he asked him to forgive him. He was scared of the woman too.

He shared the story because of the stories he hears and the hard bitter truth behind his story is that Holly Whittaker slipped through all channels of society because she had been passed around & then, adopted by the wrong people. Noone noticed her absence, noone recalled seeing her anywhere on Christmas in l970. He was amazed at all of the crimes that take place against children in America. He thought that the penalties and justice for this epidemic would have been stiff and swift- When I shared some statistics that relate to child abuse/endangerment cases. He was astounded and overwhelmed. His mother got away with murder 35 years ago and here we are in the new mellinium, and the laws are worse.

Holly is just another forgotten victim of sensless bloodshed against children at even the most precious times, like Christmas. We should pray for all children who are in a war like this, defenseless against the violence & mayhem that surrounds them. We should be grateful for our families, our children, & remember those less fortunate.......Merry Christmas, tomevans/

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