“Lost in Paradise” by Crime Watch Daily: The Story of Barbara Struncova and Bill Ulmer

Last Monday, November 9, Crime Watch Daily dedicated three segments of their programming to the story of Barbara Struncova and Bill Ulmer. They called the story:

LOST IN PARADISE: INTRIGUE AT A TROPICAL SURF RETREAT.
Click to watch it.

I am very happy with their presentation of the story. All of Barbara’s friends, as far as I know, are pleased with the piece. Some of the minor details—like which roommates lived where when, and who started what websites—are confusing or incorrect, but there are no mistakes in anything that matters.  Endless thanks to everyone who put themselves out there and shared their piece of the puzzle!

The story is not over.  Five years is a long time, but five years is not forever.  The earth and the climate in the tropics quickly devour things, but they also spit them up.  Crocodiles do not eat board bags, and neither do worms.  Earthquake happen and erosion is constant.  We may never know what happened to Barbara.  Then again, time may be on her side.

If you wish to participate in the effort to create justice for Barbara Struncova, here is a small list of things you can do:

–Like the facebook page Where Is Barbara Struncova?
–Share the video or posts about her disappearance on your timeline (put the audience setting to “public” on those posts, please!)
–Type #justiceforbarbara into the comment box on facebook posts about Barbara or about Bill
–Use #justiceforbarbara if you are a twitter user (I try but it’s so not my thing)
–Send the link to Crime Watch Daily’s report to news stations and news papers
–Write a letter to the North Carolina governor, Pat McCrory (http://governor.nc.gov/contact)

I don’t know exactly what you or I can expect any of those things to accomplish.  But you can do them all from your chair.  The other option is to do nothing.  We all know exactly what that will accomplish.

 

Células

Si es verdad
que en el cuerpo
humano,
cada célula se repone
en el trascurso de
siete años,
eres, entonces
un hombre nuevo–
y yo soy una mujer
diferente de
la que conociste
al atardecer
con el viento que soplaba
al mar.
Nuestros cuerpos,
hasta las células
cerebrales
donde viven las memorias
más secretas,
nunca se han conocido
el uno sin
el otro.

Gasp

(a surfing poem about drowning/not-drowning)

spinning helplessly
down below
i tuck and spin faster

is this how she dies?
dashed on a rock?
her head clobbered by
the rocketing board?
a hit just right would
knock her unconscious
she would forget to
hold her last air
suck in lungs of sea and
go limp

time stops
between heartbeats

awake in this roaring
blind night, i check:
my neck is
not broken
both arms, unharmed curl
overhead
perfect legs pulled in
protect my belly
somehow
how far down
i am not yet drowned

she is a little ball of
curled girl
in a seething sea
spinning lost somewhere
waiting for what happens

she is the planted seed
which contains the
rest of her life

far above me
the board surfaces,
finds light and sky
a solid yank to my leash leg
tells me which way is
up
to a world full of air

i open and
kick through the foam
finding the top
as the gasp
explodes