There are a few things you should know about Arkansas summers. The humidity sticks to you like invisible honey. Sweat soaks your clothes when you dare to step outside. Air conditioners are a blessing from the almighty. The air is strange and heavy. Mother Nature unleashes a thickness in the atmosphere. Humans, beasts, and insects struggle to find breath in the soupy air.
For most Arkansans, September 20, 2004 was a normal day. For our family the air was heavier, thicker, and suffocating with grief. It has remained that way for 14 years.
It was just the four of us—four sisters against the world. We have always been tough young ladies, and to be honest, so is our mom. Despite being able to hide it well, we had a hard upbringing. This was mainly due to the events that occurred after our mom, Shirley, divorced our dad, Larry. Even with all we had to endure, the feeling that we all shared that day had to be one of the hardest we’ve ever experienced. Our fourth was missing. A piece of our soul was gone.
To be completely honest, when Rebekah went missing time was a blur for us. On the day the police found Rebekah, we went back to our motel in Melbourne unable to process the fact she was dead. Still in a state of shock, we sat down in the middle of the parking lot in a circle. Sitting in a circle, all of us facing each other, was our thing. It was all we knew to do at that moment. It was our way of giving Rebekah the only memorial we had to give, our sister circle. As we sat in silence, looking to each other for comfort, Danielle looked up and said, “Where’s the fourth? Hey, you know, she should be sitting here with us.”
That says everything we need to say about our bond with Rebekah.
Her murder left a literal hole in our circle.
14 years have gone by. We don’t feel like our story has been told, but more importantly, we don’t feel Rebekah’s real story has been told. Our silent screams are deafening—simply begging for someone to hear our cries. We hope someone will give the missing piece of the puzzle to police. We pray that someone will simply believe our story—the story we waited to tell until now.
We are writing this blog and hoping that our voices will finally be heard. Social media is both a wonderful and hurtful thing. You’ve seen us bicker and disagree. You’ve seen us struggle with frustration. You’ve seen us fight to be heard. You’ve seen us break down in conversations with followers commenting on our Facebook posts. Rebekah’s murder has been incredibly hard to relive online, on podcasts, and on tv. Falsehoods have spread like wildfire.
Pam Brown once said, “When sisters stand shoulder to shoulder, who stands a chance against us?” We have a deep connection with our sister, and we want to share. We love each other no matter what. We support each other. We love Rebekah. We still stand with her. We are opening up our lives for the first time with our story, our voice, and our truth so that we can share that love. We continue to stand strong, together. And even though she is not with us, Rebekah’s spirit still makes us four against the world.