The next time this man came in my mom was not working. It was the Friday after the first encounter. My mom’s friend Roe was working the register. She told my mom what happened the following Tuesday when she came back to volunteer. This is what she told my mom:

“Where is the lady?” A man comes up to me at the register.

“Are you talking about the manager, Rena?”

“No, the baby girl. What’s the baby girl’s name?” He asked as he looked around the store, hoping to see Andrea.

“I am not authorized to give you that information.” I quickly reply.I knew better than telling him anything about Andrea. I told Brian, but judging by your face, I am guessing he did not tell you.”

After being told this, my mom goes to pick me up from school and we go straight to the police station since we feared for my life and safety. The police pushed it aside, saying "We cannot do anything until he attacks. Ma'am, if he does calling 911 is easy, you press 9, 1, 1, then the talk button." My mom panicked, begged the officer for assistance. He was ignorant and kept giving us the same answer.We walked out since he was not going to help us.

After hearing the policeman tell my mom and I that, I felt helpless, and like he did not care if I was the next kidnap victim. I felt like my safety did not matter. I always thought the police had a room and a place they kept potential predator’s photos to show the families that are afraid of a potential attack. I was wrong. I was hoping he would tell me to get his number, then report back to them.

Then, perhaps, I would call them while I was at the police station and set up a place to sit and talk with the man. At least then he could possibly get out of my life for good. Oh well, that was a fairy tale in my head that would never happen. He did not physically do anything to me, so he is doing nothing wrong, yet somehow I felt otherwise.

According to the National Criminal Justice Reference Service (NCJRS) website, stalking is “defined as a series of actions that makes a victim feel afraid or in danger, stalking may include behaviors that by themselves may not be criminal, such as making phone calls, sending letters or gifts, and showing up at public places. But these acts that appear meaningless or non-threatening to many people may be terrifying to victims.” (NCJRS Website) This man made me feel threatened for my life, even if it was not evident to others around me.

Another time after we went to the police, about a month after the first encounter, he came into CAPA, even though he did not stay in the store long, he made me question his motives a bit more.

I was up at the register working on my algebra homework. I was almost done, when I hear the same sly, gravelly voice a month before say, “Well, now, where have you been hiding?”

Frozen from shock, I began to think Oh no! He’s back. Quickly respond or he will continue talking. How can I get my mom up here without him noticing I am getting her attention?

“Nowhere.”I belted out, overcompensating my feelings of being nervous and afraid. I wanted to run, but I couldn’t because he was standing where the opening to the counter of the register was. I was stuck behind the counter, at his mercy, until he moved.

“I have been looking for you,” he said in a concerned tone, “but you were not here, where did you go?”

“I’ve been around,” I say as I try to scope if I can squeeze past him, but the gap is too small. Crap!

“Do y’all have any toy trains?”

“Actually, we might. It would be in the toy section right over there.” I reply hopeful to get him to leave the area, so I can go get my mom.

My mom is where I can see her now, I wave at her and she walks up to me. He sees her, and quickly leaves the store.

I tell her he came in, and she runs to the door to see which way he goes, but by that time he is nowhere to be seen. If only I had thought to get his number, maybe then I could find out what his intensions were.