Gina_M
New Member
On the evening of May 27, 1980, 32-year-old Dorothy Jane Scott, a lovely dark-eyed secretary at the Swingers Psych & Head Shop Boutique in Anaheim, California, dropped her 4-year-old son, Shanti, off at her parents house on West Stonybrook. She was anxious to be on time for the employees meeting of the two jointly-owned shops where she worked as a secretary.
During the course of the company meeting, Dorothy noticed that a fellow employee, Conrad Bostron, had trouble staying in his chair. He weaved, and grimaced in pain. He tried to steady himself. Dorothy got up in the middle of her bosss speech, eased over to his chair, and whispered, "You all right?"
At this point she noticed his arm was inflamed and he was squirming in his chair like a boa constrictor. Only silence met her question.
Without hesitation, Dorothy interrupted the proceedings. "Ive got to get him to a hospital -- he needs medical attention," she told her coworkers.
Out the door she went, her wobbly-legged coworker draped over her shoulder, perspiration dripping from his face. Another employee named Pam Head, hustled out the door to lend Dorothy a hand.
Sprawled on the back seat, the suffering man continued to writhe and wriggle as Dorothy maneuvered her car down Brookhurst Street, zigzagging in and out of traffic, well exceeding the 35 mph speed limit. Minutes later, the vehicle careened wildly onto Chapman Avenue, screeching to a halt in front of the emergency entrance of the UCI Medical Center in the adjacent town of Orange.
Quickly, the two women helped the stricken man into the emergency room of the hospital. A duty-nurse took one look at the glassy-eyed man and summoned a diagnostician. His diagnosis struck horror into Dorothy and Pam. Their coworker, he said, had been bitten by a deadly black widow spider.
While the interns were attending the victim, Dorothy and Pam waited patiently in the anteroom of the hospital, thumbing through magazines and watching television. Several hours later Bostron came out. The initial danger seemed to be over, but he was still trembling from the traumatic experience. Pam stayed with the young man while he filled out the necessary papers for insurance rigmarole. Dorothy went to fetch the car so that he wouldnt have to walk too far.
It was after 11 p.m. when Dorothy walked out into the dimly-lit parking lot to get her car. The parking lot was still and the only clue of life were the sounds of passing cars a block away on Chapman Avenue. The stars were in full command of the sky. The luminous overhead yellowish parking lot lights cast scarecrow shadows across the path of the attractive brunette as she hurried to her car. High cirrus clouds indicated that the wind was preparing for another Santa Ana blow.
Dorothys two coworkers waited patiently for their driver to return. After several minutes went by, with still no sign of her, Pam got up and looked out the window. A sigh of relief swept her face as she saw Dorothys car approaching. Suddenly, the headlights went out. She watched in disbelief as the vehicle passed by the door and melted into a flawless camouflage of darkness.
"We waved our hands," Pam told this reporter. "There was no way she could have missed us. The car made a right. We started running after it and it sped up."
Head and Bostron waited two hours in the parking lot for Dorothy to return, but she never came back. Security at the medical center were notified. Pam called Dorothys parents to see if she was home.
"Dorothy would never leave anybody like that at the hospital," Jacob Scott told police officers. "If she took them there, she would not leave them. She would take them back even if she had something to do, she would take them back...or take them with her. She wouldnt just up and leave them, That wasnt her way. She was the most caring person Ive ever known."
In 1980, Anaheim was a medium-sized town in Southern California with a population of 225,000 (it has since zoomed to over 1 million). Even then, it was a place hampered with so much crime that an officer of the Department of Criminal Investigation had little time to worry about another missing woman. After listening sympathetically to the Scotts about their missing daughter, the officer said as soon as he turned up any information of value he would let them know.
Days melted into weeks and weeks into months. A good deal had been learned -- although not yet in the airtight form police need to wrap up a case. For example, a week before Dorothy vanished she started taking karate lessons because she had been receiving threatening phone calls from an unknown source who usually called her at her office in the psych shop.
When police learned this, they requisitioned everyone at the psych shop.
Well, people said, they were afraid to say anything before. And most people still refused to talk about it. One employee who spoke on the promise of anonymity, corroborated statements given to probers by a mysterious informant over the phone. The informant whispered that Dorothys caller told her he was following her wherever she went. He described in detail her every move.
"Now that she is gone," the witness said, "the calls have stopped."
More at link:
http://www.cybersleuths.com/features/features0200.html
During the course of the company meeting, Dorothy noticed that a fellow employee, Conrad Bostron, had trouble staying in his chair. He weaved, and grimaced in pain. He tried to steady himself. Dorothy got up in the middle of her bosss speech, eased over to his chair, and whispered, "You all right?"
At this point she noticed his arm was inflamed and he was squirming in his chair like a boa constrictor. Only silence met her question.
Without hesitation, Dorothy interrupted the proceedings. "Ive got to get him to a hospital -- he needs medical attention," she told her coworkers.
Out the door she went, her wobbly-legged coworker draped over her shoulder, perspiration dripping from his face. Another employee named Pam Head, hustled out the door to lend Dorothy a hand.
Sprawled on the back seat, the suffering man continued to writhe and wriggle as Dorothy maneuvered her car down Brookhurst Street, zigzagging in and out of traffic, well exceeding the 35 mph speed limit. Minutes later, the vehicle careened wildly onto Chapman Avenue, screeching to a halt in front of the emergency entrance of the UCI Medical Center in the adjacent town of Orange.
Quickly, the two women helped the stricken man into the emergency room of the hospital. A duty-nurse took one look at the glassy-eyed man and summoned a diagnostician. His diagnosis struck horror into Dorothy and Pam. Their coworker, he said, had been bitten by a deadly black widow spider.
While the interns were attending the victim, Dorothy and Pam waited patiently in the anteroom of the hospital, thumbing through magazines and watching television. Several hours later Bostron came out. The initial danger seemed to be over, but he was still trembling from the traumatic experience. Pam stayed with the young man while he filled out the necessary papers for insurance rigmarole. Dorothy went to fetch the car so that he wouldnt have to walk too far.
It was after 11 p.m. when Dorothy walked out into the dimly-lit parking lot to get her car. The parking lot was still and the only clue of life were the sounds of passing cars a block away on Chapman Avenue. The stars were in full command of the sky. The luminous overhead yellowish parking lot lights cast scarecrow shadows across the path of the attractive brunette as she hurried to her car. High cirrus clouds indicated that the wind was preparing for another Santa Ana blow.
Dorothys two coworkers waited patiently for their driver to return. After several minutes went by, with still no sign of her, Pam got up and looked out the window. A sigh of relief swept her face as she saw Dorothys car approaching. Suddenly, the headlights went out. She watched in disbelief as the vehicle passed by the door and melted into a flawless camouflage of darkness.
"We waved our hands," Pam told this reporter. "There was no way she could have missed us. The car made a right. We started running after it and it sped up."
Head and Bostron waited two hours in the parking lot for Dorothy to return, but she never came back. Security at the medical center were notified. Pam called Dorothys parents to see if she was home.
"Dorothy would never leave anybody like that at the hospital," Jacob Scott told police officers. "If she took them there, she would not leave them. She would take them back even if she had something to do, she would take them back...or take them with her. She wouldnt just up and leave them, That wasnt her way. She was the most caring person Ive ever known."
In 1980, Anaheim was a medium-sized town in Southern California with a population of 225,000 (it has since zoomed to over 1 million). Even then, it was a place hampered with so much crime that an officer of the Department of Criminal Investigation had little time to worry about another missing woman. After listening sympathetically to the Scotts about their missing daughter, the officer said as soon as he turned up any information of value he would let them know.
Days melted into weeks and weeks into months. A good deal had been learned -- although not yet in the airtight form police need to wrap up a case. For example, a week before Dorothy vanished she started taking karate lessons because she had been receiving threatening phone calls from an unknown source who usually called her at her office in the psych shop.
When police learned this, they requisitioned everyone at the psych shop.
Well, people said, they were afraid to say anything before. And most people still refused to talk about it. One employee who spoke on the promise of anonymity, corroborated statements given to probers by a mysterious informant over the phone. The informant whispered that Dorothys caller told her he was following her wherever she went. He described in detail her every move.
"Now that she is gone," the witness said, "the calls have stopped."
More at link:
http://www.cybersleuths.com/features/features0200.html
