Many of you have asked or heard about Toby’s mom. I started writing a fiction piece sometime ago based on his and her stories…..Feel free to leave any constructive criticism. You can view the actual facts of the case that he has on his site. This was published here sometime ago; however, I’ve moved it to the top due to various request. www.LindaEdwards.com Please feel free to comment.  Also, please go “like” his Facebook page  http://www.facebook.com/pages/Linda-Edwards/210182355749034

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It has been said that young children don’t remember. I remember. I remember things that the police don’t want or refuse to listen too. I remember things that only make sense to me now that I am an adult. I remember the day they told me that mom was never coming back.

I remember looking up at my mom. She was so tall I had to stretch my neck way out to look up at her. I could see the sun shining around her lighting up her hair and her smile. I thought she looked like an angel. She always had a smile for me even when I was in trouble. I still miss her. It has been thirty-one years and I still miss her.

There are so many questions. As a child, I was told that my mom had gone on vacation and I would be staying with my dad. In reality, she was missing. Children believe what they are told. I was totally unaware of the massive search. I was unaware for almost six months. Six months of wondering why mom would go away and not take me. Six months of thinking I had done something to displease her and that was why I didn’t get to go on vacation. Life went on. I attended school, played and enjoyed staying with my dad, but always, in the back of my mind I wondered.

After they told me that mom had gone to heaven and wouldn’t be coming home, I cried. One day I was allowed to cry and after that I had to suck it up and be a man. It wasn’t enough. It didn’t answer the questions. I was scared. What if I done something to make my dad mad? Would he go away forever? What if I wasn’t good? Would they send me away? I grew quiet and withdrawn. I had anxiety attacks when I was left with the sitter afraid that nobody would come back and get me and still life went on.

As time passed, I grew rebellious and like many of the teens where I grew up, I tried to test my boundaries. Drugs, alcohol, fighting and other things all in an effort to get the attention I needed. I spent days and months grounded from seeing my friends, from leaving the house, from talking on the phone. An entire summer grounded. It was a relief when school started an escape from home. School offered me a way out of the house. Twelve years passed and I was finally eighteen years old. At eighteen I learned that I was going to receive a settlement as a result of my mom’s death. It devastated me. How could a check compensate for twelve years without a mother? I fell into great depression and old habits. The money ran out and I had to face reality.

Reality checks hit everybody at one time or another. Mine caused me to go back to Arkansas to the town of my mother’s death, get a job and search for a killer. I knew who it was and I just had to prove it. This quest gave me a new lease on life, a reason to straighten up and do what needed to be done. August 1990, fourteen years to the day from my mother’s disappearance I arrived back in Hot Springs, Arkansas.