Kidnapping Case #402

It was a normal day at the office. Detective Jason Brown unlocked his door at 9:00 A.M. on the dot. The door creaked open, and Jason stepped inside, relishing in the sound of his rubber soles on the tile floor. There was something calming about unlocking a quiet office, and he walked inside and turned to the left, where his office was.

He had specifically requested an office on the first floor so he wouldn't have to take the stairs every day. Not only was it a waste of time, it also hurt his knees, and he needed to stay limber for this job. He had calculated that he took approximately 30 seconds to climb each flight of stairs, and by that math it would take him 5 minutes every week per level just to climb the stairs when he could be working.

The chairman had just chuckled and agreed to put him on the first level, and Jason had bit his tongue. He didn't think his health was a joke at all, but as long as he got what he wanted, he didn't like to press the matter. There was nothing more to gain, and it made no sense to antagonize the recently persuaded audience.

He unlocked his office with one of only two keys that existed. He liked to keep it that way. If he could, he would only have one key that he kept so that no one could go through his personal belongings without his direct permission, but it was policy to have a master key, so Jason had been forced to surrender some of his privacy.

His room was fairly sparse, with only a desk piled 3 feet high with thick files in generic yellow folders, two yellow velvet armchairs that had attracted the attention of many antique dealers, and a single bookcase against the far wall lined with legal books that looked like they were easily a few hundred years old, but he loved the decor. There was a single lamp illuminating his desk, switched off for the night, and peeling wallpaper that somehow made his office feel cozy and secure, even though it was anything but.

He traced his fingers against the spines of his books, trying to remember how many felons had sat in the worn armchairs. He vividly remembered two confrontations with violent felons convicted of things like murder and domestic violence, but the more mundane conversations seemed to fade from his memory.

He snapped himself out of his daydreaming and took a seat at his desk, sighing heavily as he picked up the top file from where he had hastily thrown everything back together so he could resume where he had left off.

Inside were police reports and various other evidence in his latest case, the kidnapping of a boy who, funnily enough, shared his name—Jason Brown. He had seemingly vanished without a trace, and it had been a difficult and frustrating case.

All relatives had been thoroughly vetted, and there were no suspects in the case. He was at, seemingly, a dead end. He had exhausted all avenues of possible disappearances, and now only had one option left, his least favorite—tracing the boy's sightings. Unfortunately, Jason Brown was a fairly common name, and the only idea he had was a town near here, Hudson, New York, with a population of less than 7,000 people and only one public school: Hudson Elementary.

At the time of the alleged kidnapping, Jason had been only 18 months old, so he would have been enrolled in kindergarten 4 years later, in the summer of 1975. Perhaps he would have known him. He had gone to Hudson Elementary, and they were the same age.zaaaaaaaa

He had a yearbook at home he could check. Perhaps he would see a picture of Jason, and have the breakthrough he had been working towards for weeks! He grabbed his keys and stood too quickly, grabbing at his back. He was aging fast, and even though he was only 45, his rheumatism and soreness matched that of a 60 or even 70-year-old man.

He made his way to his car, a 2002 blue Toyota Camry and revved up the engine. It was only a short drive to his house, and he was consumed by daydreams about what he would do when he found the yearbook.

He unlocked his apartment and went straight to the guest bedroom, where he had boxes and boxes of treasures he had hoarded, like high school trophies and the shoes he wore to his senior prom. He had convinced himself that he would eventually need all of these things, and now he had validation.

He dug through until he found his yearbooks, but could only find one from 1979, the year Jason Brown would have been in 4th grade with him.

He opened it and combed the pages. He saw his own name there, smiling brightly at the camera and all dressed up in a blue-and-white striped shirt. His hair was a mess, and his teeth were crooked, but his blue eyes were alive and energetic.

He looked below it to find the other Jason Brown and froze. There was no Jason Brown.

He had been hidden from the yearbook! That was the only reasonable conclusion. There had been multiple reports that his kidnappers were very methodical. They had sent him to school just like a normal child, and there were reports that they didn't fully understand the severity of what they had done. It was a truly sad story of mental illness consuming the lives of two adults, and perhaps ruining the lives of Jason Brown's parents.

He took the yearbook back to the office, mind whirling, and as soon as he stepped inside, he ran right into his supervisor, Richard Swende.

"Mr. Swende, you'll never believe what I found!" Jason gushed.

Richard held up a hand to stop him. "Jason, there's something I need to tell you. We found the directory for Jason Brown's years at Hudson Elementary, and it's revealed something quite shocking."

"Well, looks like you're a step ahead of me, Mr. Swende," Jason chuckled. "I have the yearbook right here, but I couldn't find him in it. Those kidnappers were very thorough. They even went to the trouble of erasing him from the yearbook."

"Jason, they didn't erase him from the yearbook," Mr. Swende explained slowly.

"They didn't?" Jason mumbled distractedly. He flipped through the pages and pointed to the picture of his 4th-grade self. "Look how adorable I was."

Mr. Swende glanced at it and shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Well, you see, Jason, that is the Jason Brown we're looking for."

"Then where am I?"

"That is you."

"But you just said it was Jason Brown."

"It is."

"Which Jason Brown?"

"Both of them."

Jason took a step backwards and ran his hands down his face. "You mean... I'm the kidnapped Jason Brown. My parents kidnapped me?"

"That's what the evidence suggests," Mr. Swende said slowly.

"Well, that will make for quite the awkward dinner conversation," Jason remarked.

"Yes, it will," Mr. Swende agreed. "Unfortunately, we have to arrest them as soon as I can secure a warrant."

"While you do that, I'll go and say good-bye to them," Jason decided, and he walked out of the door before Mr. Swende could stop him, puzzling at how his life could have been so utterly jumbled because of a single discovery. It was anything but a regular day at the office.