Etan Patz: His disappearance started the era of parent anxiety
Etan Patz disappeared in 1979 and so did a nation's innocence. He vanished in broad daylight in Manhattan, sparking an era of parent anxiety – Amber alerts, milk carton photos – and sheltered American children.
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"There were some kids who biked around with a switchblade in their basket after it happened," said Alison Feigh, who grew up with Jacob Wetterling and sat next to him in sixth-grade math class. "There was a change of our innocence at that time. In sixth grade, I didn't even have the word abduction – that wasn't even part of my vocabulary."Skip to next paragraph
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Now a program coordinator for the Jacob Wetterling Resource Center, which teaches parents and children how to build safer communities, Ms. Feigh is fighting for a world in which children can explore beyond the edge of their driveways in this era of helicopter parenting.
"We want kids to walk around smart and not scared," she said.
But how to shake the fear? Ms. Collins, a writer, has two grown sons, one of whom was a rather anxious kid, often fretting about venturing off on his own, she said. Last week, when she read about the renewed search for Etan and felt that old familiar gut punch, Collins decided to apologize to her son.
"I said to him, 'If you got a sense from us that the world is a scary place, it came from Etan Patz,'" she said, her voice choked with tears. "That's where it came from. And I'm sorry if we did do that. Because it's not a good thing to imbue in a child."
Yukie Ohta was 10 years old when Etan disappeared from SoHo, where she grew up. They used to play in the same basement that is now being torn up by investigators. She remembers making necklaces out of dry macaroni down there. And she vividly recalls the search for her playmate that went on for weeks.
The posters, the neighborhood meetings, the milk cartons. The police officers knocking on her door.
"I would never let my child take the bus alone at age 8 or 10, but we all did when we were kids," Ms. Ohta said. "I think it was just a different time and place."
Ohta's mother brought her up with the rose-colored idea that Etan was still out there somewhere, alive. She has clung to this story, all the while knowing it was probably not true.
"That idea sort of has been shattered," she said last week after the latest search for his remains began. "And it's a little hard to take. You try to cope with something the best you can. And if you don't know, you can make up stories."
With each lost child came improvements in the way law enforcement agencies handle reports of missing children. In 1982, Congress passed the Missing Children Act, which established a toll-free missing children's hotline. Two years later, the National Center for Exploited and Missing Children came into existence.
After 9-year-old Amber Hagerman was abducted and murdered in Arlington, Tex., in 1996, the Amber Alert was created to broadcast news of a missing child through radio and television stations and on billboards.
These are just a few of the many protections enacted throughout the years. As a result, experts say, it's never been safer to be a child growing up in America.
Try telling that to parents like Jodi Halkin, of Palm Beach, Fla., who grew up around the corner from Adam Walsh. The mall where he was abducted stood across the street from her father's office. Halkin won't even write her children's names on their T-shirts or backpacks out of fear that a stranger might be able to call one of them by name.
"Though I realize that the likelihood of any one of my own three children being abducted is likely less than them being struck by lightning," she wrote in an email, "that doesn't mean that it's not a real, albeit slightly irrational, fear."