I'm finding it so very strange today, this story about the Anne Gottlieb case.
When I was ten, Ann Gotlib was twelve. My mom used to take me shopping at Bashford Manor Mall. I liked it because there were sunken-in TV-watching areas, and some stationary carousel horses I could "ride."
Ann Gotlib frequented that mall, too; one day her bike was found leaning against the front wall, and Ann herself was never seen again.
It's funny how much I've always remembered this event. In my mind, it was the dividing line between when kids in this area could go anywhere safely, and when they couldn't. Maybe because she was a kid, like me, and about my age, but it stuck in my head.
So today it was announced that the police have a prime suspect in the case. Unfortunately, he's dead, so the odds of any real "closure" to the case these 25 years later are pretty slim. I can't imagine what her parents have felt all these years; what they feel now. I don't know if this will feel like reopening an old wound, or if they will be glad for people to be thinking of Ann again.
I, for one, am glad that Ann and her case have not been forgotten, after all.