The Abduction

“What can you tell me about the kidnappers?”

“There were three of them,” Jimmy answered, “two men and a woman. The woman’s name was Pat and one of the

men was called Juke, or something like that. I heard them call the other man Don, he was their leader. He was older than

the others, I’d say 50 or older. The other man was about my father’s age, 38, and the woman was younger.”

“Do you know where they were holding you, or what kind of car they had?”

“It was a big white house, with red shutters, about a mile from here, that way.” Jimmy pointed in a direction to indicate

up the river. “They had two cars, I rode in one but didn’t get a chance to see what kind it was but it was new, or almost

new. I didn’t see the other car.”

The trooper thanked Jimmy and then asked the doctor and his wife if they knew the house Jimmy referred to.

“It sounds like the old Lockwood house to me,” said Mrs. Solter. “I heard someone bought it about a year or so ago

but I haven’t seen the new owner. It’s the third house up the river from us.”

“I’d better call this in so we can begin acting on it,” the officer replied. “Thanks for your help.”

Jimmy was carried to the waiting ambulance on the stretcher and transported to a hospital in Ottumwa. Within a half

hour Sanderson’s cottage was surrounded by state troopers and local police. A forced entry revealed that the house was

empty but with indications it had recently been vacated.

Jimmy’s parents were called and told the good news. They made immediate arrangements to charter a plane and fly

to Ottumwa. As there was no longer a need for secrecy in regard to the kidnapping a nationwide alert was broadcast with

pictures of the kidnappers. Caution in approaching them was advised as they were considered dangerous.

Monday, 4 P.M.

Upon leaving the cottage the kidnappers drove off in different directions. Donald Sanderson and Pat O’Hara headed

south into Missouri in one vehicle. Sanderson’s intention was to head for a backwoods camp he knew of near Lake of the

Ozarks, about 250 miles from Ottumwa. Juke, in the other car, drove northeast towards Cedar Rapids and a hideout in

that area, about 120 miles distant.

Juke’s luck ran out as he was rounding a curve at high speed near Washington, Iowa. The car went into a skid and

before he could regain control left the highway and side- swiped a tree. Juke was thrown from the car and knocked

unconscious. The car then rammed into another tree and caught fire.

A passing truck driver stopped immediately and ran to where Juke was lying then returned to his truck and called in an

emergency report on his civilian band radio. Within five minutes a state police car arrived at the scene. The officer

examined Juke for possible injuries and while doing so recognized Juke from a picture he had been shown when he came

on duty an hour earlier. There was no doubt in his mind, this was one of the kidnappers.

When an ambulance arrived a few minutes later the trooper advised the paramedics that the man was wanted for

questioning and would need to be accompanied by a police officer when he was transported to the hospital. A

subsequent call to his headquarters resulted in the trooper being instructed to leave his vehicle at the scene and stay with

the accident victim until he was relieved by other police personnel.

Monday, 7 P.M.

Wilson and Frances Yates arrived at the hospital in Ottumwa, both of them overcome with joy at the sight of Jimmy.

Frances held him in her arms and wept copiusly until Jimmy had to push her away with the remark that she was getting his

bandages wet. Then she noticed that both of his hands were bandaged to a point past his wrists.

“What happened to your hands?” she asked, with a horrified expression on her face.

Jimmy was cool and nonchalant with his answer. “I got a few blisters when I took the bed apart.” He then told them

how he had been handcuffed, actually anklecuffed, to the bed and how he had managed to steal a spoon to use as a

screwdriver.

Mr. Yates broke into a grin at the story and then commented, “That sounds like you. They didn’t know what they were

getting into when they kidnapped you. Other than the chain, did they mistreat you in any way?”

“No,” Jimmy replied. “But I heard the one called Juke complaining to the other man that he hadn’t expected a ‘rasslin’

match.’ The other man told him something about a Murphy’s Law, to turn off the switch when you tried to capture a buzz

saw. After the first day they kept giving me shots in my butt that put me to sleep. Except one time the shot didn’t work and

I used a piece of broken mirror to try to flash signals. That didn’t work either.”

“Well you’re safe now, and that’s all that matters,” said Mrs. Yates.

Tuesday, 10 A.M.

Jimmy was on the plane his parents had chartered, returning to St. Louis with them. He had been given a clean bill of

health by the hospital and his parents had been instructed how to care for his blistered hands. An FBI agent and a local

police official had questioned him again and were satisfied he had divulged as much information about his captors as he

was able.

On the plane trip he talked non-stop to his parents, filling them in on all the details of his kidnapping. He described

Juke and Pat quite vividly but was a bit hazy about Sanderson.

“The police know who they are and have been looking for them ever since you escaped,” Mr. Yates stated.

At the hospital in Washington, Iowa Juke was guarded closely by police officers. One was stationed outside his door

at all times and entered the room frequently to check on his ward. So far he had not regained consciousness. An

emergency room examination when he arrived at the hospital had indicated signs of possible head injury but no fracture.

He also had sustained two broken ribs and a collapsed lung.

Donald Sanderson and Pat O’Hara, meanwhile, arrived without incident at a secluded cabin near Lake of the Ozarks,

in Missouri, prepared to stay in seclusion as long as necessary. They had listened to their car radio during their journey

and then turned on a TV when they arrived at the cabin. Sanderson was dismayed to discover a nation wide search for

them had already begun. Subsequent information that Juke was hospitalized and under arrest proved even more

dismaying. Until the information was released to the media they had not been aware their identities were known.

Jimmy arrived home a hero to his brother and sister. Philip, 10, was goggle-eyed; a younger edition of Jimmy, he was

a bundle of energy. Sandra was a freckle-faced, pig-tailed seven year old. Not as outgoing as her two brothers, she was

still an active, impish member of the family.

Epilogue

A thorough investigation of the Sanford Pharmaceutical Company failed to uncover a leak in their security system.

Blame was finally placed on their computer network. A complete overhaul of the system was made to include measures

which would prevent outside intrusion into the system.

By late May Juke St. John had recovered enough from his injuries that doctors gave the police permission to move

him. He was transported by ambulance, under heavy guard, to a prison hospital in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Here, he refused

to answer any questions presented to him. Later, he was returned to St. Louis to stand trial, in that city, on a kidnapping

charge. Throughout the trial he maintained his silence, even when the judge imposed a life sentence on him. His only

reaction during the trial was to glare at Jimmy when Jimmy was asked to identify him.

Donald Sanderson and Pat O’Hara remained in seclusion at their hideaway until late June. When they emerged they

both had changed their appearance considerably. Pat had changed her hair color from brown to a striking auburn shade

and was wearing glasses. Instead of the casual clothes formerly worn she had changed to a more formal two piece suit

and coordinated blouse, Sanderson had also dyed his hair, to a light brown color, and had grown a moustache which was

brown flecked with gray. In place of the business suit he now wore slacks and a golf shirt. He also was wearing glasses,

horned rim.

By this time the romance between had disintegrated and they had decided to go in separate directions. Pat headed

north, toward Chicago, with a new identity Sanderson had obtained for her, and a sizable amount of cash. Here, she

blended into the city and lived a circumspect, law-abiding life.

Sanderson drove to Miami, Florida and made contact with someone he knew in the underworld. Two years later

Sanderson was shot to death in a disagreement following a card game in which he had been accused of cheating.

END OF STORY