Tag Archives: Kerry Krueger

Days Go By…and still I think about “She”.

Listening To:

Days Go By (Acoustic) – Dirty Vegas https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ONCY0xnefAE

Sometimes I feel I have exhausted this subject. Other times I feel like it is a subject that is impossible to be exhausted. This is one of those times.

I have written two blogs about my mother. “She” and “She: The Ruby Slipper Version”. I don’t want to use this particular post to once again explain the story…partly because the true story just isn’t known. But also because I know MY story, and while I have thought I have been given chances to share my voice, outsiders “sharing” my story have not correctly portrayed my voice. The only way that can be done is if I do it myself.

A few months ago, a reporter called me to interview me on my knowledge and feelings on my mother’s disappearance. We spent well over an hour on the phone together. She had reached out to me after she found my blog, and I agreed to speak with her. I had the best expectations, and believed she had the best intentions. While I cannot speak for her on her intentions, the way the article turned out left me quite disappointed. I had gone into the interview hoping to bring exposure to the 25th “anniversary” of my mother being a missing person. I did not expect to come across as someone who didn’t care, and apparently, according to the one comment that article received, I wasn’t the only one who read it that way.

Here are the stories, and I do urge you to read them:



It even made the #NBC news “Cold Case Spotlight” : http://www.nbcnews.com/feature/cold-case-spotlight/cold-case-spotlight-kerry-obrien-krueger-n263451

A person by the “name” of “Kay Nine” (which to me, especially after reading the comment posted now reads “Canine” or, “bitch” (you know, female dog)…either way, it seems like a fake name…maybe she just likes dogs…what do I know, I am clearly naïve…) posted this comment on the article:

“Well, the daughter sounds extremely naïve.”

Really??!? This article was supposed to be written to return this cold case to the public eye. My mother is a missing person, and I have grown up knowing she is gone, and not knowing why. And the ONLY thing some OUTSIDER can say is something as insensitive as this??!? Well I will not stand for that.

I am here to say I care. And I always will. Again, I urge you to read the articles that were written, as my whole purpose is to raise awareness and bring exposure to this case, in hopes to one day find out the truth. So, I responded to Miss “Nine” with this:

“I do not believe I am naïve. I spoke with Miss Zambo for over an hour and many of my words were not used. I miss my mother and desperately want to know the truth, which is exactly why I agreed to do the interview. It is understandable to have an outsider read this article and formulate their own opinion, but I must say to assume I am naïve, and have that be the only comment on such a serious story is ignorant and rude. My mother is missing, and it is heartbreaking for myself and many others. This story is supposed to raise awareness and hopefully bring information and answers to the surface, I hope that all who read this can keep that as the main focus.”

This article was written by a journalist, local to the area where the incident happened. She is also an acquaintance of that county’s detective who came up to speak with me nearly two summers ago. The same detective who was in the wedding of my mother’s sister who was also interviewed in this article. If that isn’t a conflict of interest, I don’t know what is. If you are a detective, and TRULY want to find an answer to a case, becoming personal friends with someone involved is not the way to do it. A true detective must keep their eyes completely open and remain unbiased. A feat impossible to achieve if one is personally involved. Especially if it is a conflict between two families and that detective is clearly on one family’s side.

I have no answer to what happened. But I also have my own opinions. I also know myself and my life and how I was raised and who I was raised by. I also have read diaries from my mother from when she was between the ages of 13 and 18, as well as each article she wrote when she was the editor of the local paper. I may not know her, but “nature” does play a big role in a person’s life, and while I may have never experienced much “nurture” from her, I KNOW we are very similar. The things I have heard about her, and the things she wrote which I have read, it is eerie how similar her personality and voice sound like mine. We may not have known each other long, but we have a lifelong connection.

To say that I am naïve, or for someone to think that I don’t care is simply ridiculous. But one also has to understand that it has been 25 years. I have experienced YEARS of terrible, rock-bottom depression surrounding this. At some point, I HAVE to move forward, take care of myself and my family, and be the best person that I can be. I want to know the truth, of course, but if she is alive and left on her own, she has had 25 years to reach out. Most likely, if that is the case, she isn’t going to reach out now. If something terrible happened to her, and if someone knew something about it, again, after 25 years, IF they are still alive, they most likely wouldn’t stand up now. I am a human. I have feelings, and I have very strong feelings about this. But I realized that for my health and my sanity and for every other outside aspect of my life, this can control me no longer. I want to know, and I invite the truth, but it cannot be my main focus. I have people who love me, and have taken care of me, and no matter what happened to her, they are here and they always have been, and I will not take them for granted. I spent years feeling she left me. I spent years hating a person I didn’t know. I have grown up, learned more about myself, and through speaking with family and reading her diaries and newspaper articles, I have learned more about her. There is no more hate. No more anger. I, personally, truly believe she left on her own. I believe she wasn’t just unhappy, but I believe she had a mental disorder. Whether that be depression, or if she was manic, or bipolar, or something else, I believe it was something she couldn’t control and that she left to allow those she left behind to have a better life without her. I do hope she is still out there. I do hope she reads this. I do hope she knows she is loved and forgiven by myself and my father.

But I also want her, and everyone else to understand that I was only 3 years old when she went missing. I never really knew her. I was also very, very much loved and taken care of by my father, grandparents and the rest of my dad’s side of the family. I had a happy childhood. That doesn’t mean I don’t care, because I do. It just affected me later in life. What it means is that my family is wonderful, and do not deserve what they have gone through, and still go through because of this.

There are many sides to every story. Listen, but don’t judge. If you know something, do the right thing and speak out. Everything done in this world affects someone. We as humans need to take care of each other. Do good, be good…and have an open mind, with room for understanding and love.


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She — The Ruby Slipper version

Yesterday, December 6th, marked 24 years since my mother went missing.


A lot happens in 24 years.

It’s a quarter of a lifetime…nearly.


It was 1989. Look at how the world has changed since then. Music, the internet, text messaging, fashion, everything. I have grown up, I have changed. Many times. I am no longer that 3 year old. And I barely remember the few memories I had of her.


I have seen the movie “The Wizard of Oz” at least a hundred times. When I was little, after she disappeared, my father went back to school to get his college degree. During his night classes my grandparents would come over and watch me. For about a month and a half straight, until my grandmother could take it no longer, “The Wizard of Oz” was the nightly movie of choice. 


It’s strange, growing up and seeing pictures of my mother, hearing stories, it still seems like a strange Grimm’s Fairy Tale that was told to me. Not something that actually happened and was once a part of my life. The thought of flying monkeys and talking scarecrows seem more realistic. I remember thinking that if I clicked my heals just like Dorothy that somehow, everything would go back to normal. I would be back over that rainbow, living this magical life with both of my parents just as I should. 


That feeling and those dreams eventually faded. Days, then weeks, and sometimes even months would go bye without a thought of her. 


I was told she said she had a conference to go to. I was told her work called my father that next day asking where she was. I was told there was no such conference, and her whereabouts were unknown. I have spent 24 years “knowing” she left us.


A few years ago I had written a blog in what I believed was from her viewpoint of the event. For most of my life I had felt abandoned. unloved. bitter. I often found myself running away from people and any sort of confrontation and I blamed it on her. I said the only thing she ever taught me was to leave. Soon I didn’t see her as an actual person that existed or may still exist, but an excuse for every negative thing about me. I had heard she could be stubborn and independent to the point of selfish. Unaffectionate to the point of unloving. Yet free-spirited and quite artistic with her words and her camera. Sometimes I thought she was an entity of my past and an image of my future self. 


A few weeks ago, all of that changed. 

I had received an email from an officer who had reopened the case and was determined to solve the mystery. So sure she hadn’t left. Certain something had happened. It was during this 2 hour conversation that I learned more about my mother and the woman she was than I had ever known, or really, cared to know. In so many ways it was easier to accept she didn’t care and had just left. If she happened to be an amazingly loving mother and was taken from me, well, it seems so much more heartbreaking. I know that sounds confusing, and I’m sure my viewpoint on that will eventually change, but when the mind accepts something a certain way in order to cope and move on, any sort of shift in that mindset can be very difficult to deal with, especially with something so heavy.


So, yesterday, knowing the 24th anniversary was here, and with these new feelings on who she was and who she might have been, I foraged deep within the cave of boxes in my basement and found gold. I found every article she had written for the Burlington Standard Press, love letters between she and my father, and even letters of congratulations from her boss when she took a new opportunity elsewhere (he stated he was “excited she was one step closer to her dream of writing for the New York Times’. I want to write for the New York Times. It was a beautiful moment to feel so connected). I went back to my old photo albums and saw the pictures of the two of us in a whole new light. 


For the first time in 24 years I felt loved. I felt connected. I felt I missed her. I felt she was real.

And I felt, for just a moment, if I clicked my heals together just right, maybe I could see her face just one more time.


Hold on to those you have. Give them all of your love, every moment you can.

Kerry O’Brien Krueger – Missing Person Report





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