July 2004
After
a baffling evening with Bianca on the night of July 3rd, I returned to
the club for her next usual shift on July 6th. She was not there. I was
truly worried. A phone call to the club on July 8th confirmed my fears.
Bianca had gone off the schedule to "give it a rest for a while." I was
utterly devastated. Bianca had told me about her other job at an auto
insurance agency in Brighton that was "owned by Russians." Its name was
never revealed, but she had mentioned that Commonwealth Avenue was
significant to its location. A highly inadequate Internet search at the
time revealed only one agency in Brighton, located on Washington
Street. The next day I drove there in an attempt to find her. Parked
across the street from the agency was a car that was exactly like the
rare convertible that Bianca drove. Being short on time, I left a note
on the car urging her to call me. There was no response. I returned on
Monday morning the 12th to see if I could intercept her between the car
and the office. But there was no sign of the car anywhere. The
following day I called the club again for an update. She had told them
it would be two months before she returned, if at all. She did not give
the club any new number where she could be reached. Just two weeks
earlier, she had told me enthusiastically, "Don't worry. I'm not going
anywhere. I'm staying right here." I then returned to the agency on
Washington Street. They did have a Brazilian girl working there but she
was not Bianca. I was told there are 39 insurance agencies in Brighton
alone. I made a more complete list of agencies within walking distance
of the car I had discovered, and on the 19th I returned to Brighton.
But there was no sign of her at any of them, even one right on
Commonwealth Avenue. By late in the month, I had concluded that Bianca
had also quit her insurance job. Then, on the afternoon of the 27th, I
ended my effort to find her in Brighton and regarded my search as a
failure.
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July 2005
The
elation over the discovery of Galaxy Insurance as the agency where
Bianca had worked quickly gave way to the reality that information from
her former coworkers was sparse and there was little they could do to
advance the search. In addition, my link to them was purely second hand
through one of my private investigators. Everything was being filtered
through his particular hunches and interpretations. He convinced me to
try another phone study to see if we could uncover Bianca's "American
mom." It was not cheap. Yet, according to him, it produced no usable
results. Realizing that people are likely to volunteer more information
when they are comfortable and at ease with you, I wrote a letter to
Galaxy management thanking them for their time in helping us. My intent
was to win their sympathy and trust. But as the month wore on, it was
increasingly apparent that the search had stagnated into another impass. |
July 2006
To mark the second anniversary of Bianca's disappearance,
I completed an overdue rewrite of the "My Experience of Bianca" essay.
I was surprised at how exhilarating and joyful the exercise was. It
emerged as largely the complete, compelling story it is today. While in
the midst of the rewrite - and thinking about the need for a cell phone
- I asked myself an interesting question. Is there any way I could
obtain or be assigned Bianca's old Framingham cell phone number?
Research from a few months prior indicated that the number was likely
available. Anyone who has obtained a previously assigned phone number
knows that on occasion, someone will call looking for the previous
customer, particularly during the first few years. But alas, a
representative of T-Mobile told me that all numbers are assigned
randomly. There is no way I could request assignment of a specific
number, even if it is available and part of the T-Mobile network.
Toward the middle of the month, I resumed my big mailing project that
dominated the spring and summer months. A mailing to every Brazilian
flavored business I could find in Framingham and MetroWest had been
completed. There were no replies. Now I wanted to reach all real estate
agencies not on the original Brazilian list with the outside chance
that I would find Bianca's "American mom."
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July 2007
As
the month began, I was digesting a short email message from a gentleman
who had patronized Claudia Bella as an escort. He had even provided me
with her escort cell number. He had just returned from Rio where he had
met with her. When he showed her this web site, she replied she is not
the girl I am looking for. I was convinced she was lying. In my
response to the message, I happened to mention Bianca's excellent
English language ability - something I later discovered Claudia lacked.
Had this gentleman the decency to answer my reply, it would have saved
over $1000 in expenses and five extra months of anguish and unnecessary
effort. But he never did. Nevertheless, I was able to confirm Claudia's
work as an escort. Although several weeks earlier I had searched
through nearly 50 web sites devoted to escorts in Rio, her listing had
evaded me because I lacked the model's working name. Claudia's phone
number also matched the one I had received. Within a few days, I
decided to call the number, posing as a potential customer if I wasn't
recognized. To my surprise, the number had been taken out of service.
Several days later I also discovered that Claudia's escort listing had
disappeared and her Orkut profile was missing. At the time, I drew the
only conclusion I could make: she was Bianca and she was rejecting me
and trying to push me away. That perception made the final weeks of the
month the most emotionally difficult since March 2005.
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