Being a normal sunny august morning, you would expect the perfect day, with regular school activities, your children whining about not wanting to go, your husband not being able to find the right tie to wear to work and many more. But on this perfect' day, my youngest daughter, only seven years old, went missing, at 9:00am, outside her school gates. This was not a perfect day for anyone, nor was it any easier, with media and press already at our doorstep.

In 2001, on the 16th of May, my daughter Sophia Benedict, aged seven, was snatched from the gates of her primary school.

As a Mother this is my Story

Driving towards Sophia's school i could see her friends waiting for her, happily jumping up and down on the spot, so excited to see her.
Sophia has known her friends since she first started play group, and have been friends ever since, so I guess you could say it was only natural that they be excited.

I stop the car out the front of the school, right in front of the gates, and watch her as she slowly walks in with her friends. As I drive off, I remember the last thing she says to me, before she gets out of the car, I love you heaps mummy'. Little did I realize that those words would be the last I would ever hear from her.

Driving back home, I decided to listen to some of Bob Marley's finest tunes, and before I had the chance to play his music my phone rang.
Hello, Jacqueline' said the voice. It's rose, Sophia's teacher' she replied.
Oh Hello Rose, you see a bit uneasy, is everything ok?' I asked her intently.
Before I continue, have you dropped Sophia off at school already?' she asked nervously.

Why yes, half an hour ago, why do you ask?' I ask, and then came the reply that changed my life
Jacqueline has not arrived to class, and nor have any of her friends seen her either' she cried.

These are the words that will forever haunt me; my daughter was snatched, from her own school.
And yes, I know you must be screaming run away, but my Sophia would never runaway, she has no reason to.
I drive home as fast as I can, and ring my husband to inform him of the sad news.

Sitting at home, waiting for my husband to arrive home, I wonder where she could be, whether she is hurt or worse yet, dead. Upon thinking of the possibility of death, I broke down and cried, and just as I did this, my husband walked in and he saw me crying, rushing to my side to comfort me.
I was at wits end, not knowing what to think or who

to turn to other then my husband and so I decided that the best course of action was to go to the police and file a missing persons report, and without knowing how long we had to find her alive, and unharmed, we were certain that going to the police would secure any chances of finding my baby girl at all.
Walking up the police station steps, I was getting more worried with every step I took, and walking into the police station had made me just as upset.

I walk in, looking straight at the officer behind the reception desk tears rolling down my cheek and I walk up to her half crying half scared and mutter that I need to file a missing persons report. She smiled and handed me a tissue, asking me to follow her.

She leads me to an office at the back of the building. It has comfy looking sofas, and sitting behind a huge oak desk, was a detective with a warm and sympathizing smile of his face. He motioned for us to sit, so as we could tell him what was worrying us.
I explained how I dropped Sophia off at school at 8:50 am this morning, and upon my way home, I received a call from her teacher stating that she had not yet shown up for class, and also stated that her friends have not see her. She also told me that her school friends said she had to go to the toilet near the school gates, and has not been seen since.
The detective looks at me sympathetically, and to be honest, it appeared as if he too, was almost crying. He told me he has never dealt with such a case as ours, but would dedicate himself none the less and bring our baby girl home to us.
He explained that he would need her teachers contact details, where we could find her, where she lived, as well as her school friends. My remark was simple; any thing he needed to help save my baby girl would be given to him.
He said that on cases like these, with child abductions, that we should not jump to conclusions, or think the worst, as it was too early on the case and investigation to provide such evidence, let alone any where abouts, and the state of poor little Sophia.
The detective told us to call him Bruce, since he would be the main investigator, there would be no need for MR' or MRS'.
He got our details, a photo of Sophia and told us he would jump straight on to the case and proceed with investigating.

After leaving the police station I still felt numb, but also good inside to know that we were being looked after, and that our baby Sophia was number one priority.
Sitting at home. Doing nothing was the one thing I didn't want to do, so I took it upon myself to make up posters with Sophia's photo and contact number, and decided to drive around and put them up. If I had any chance of finding her this would certainly help.
When I got home, just as I was walking through the door, the phone started ringing, it was Bruce, and he asked me to come to the police station immediately with no hesitation. Once again, walking up the steps to the police station, I had a very bad feeling, and though that something was wrong, so I ran through the door. My daughter had been found, dead, raped and mutilated. She was found out the local state forest with a sheet wrapped over her. This was the worst day of my life, and although no-one knew who her killer was, I knew he was out there somewhere, ready to kill again.