Spotlight on Dru Sjodin: Case has stirred intense attention and interest
Chuck Haga, Star Tribune
Published December 7, 2003
GRAND FORKS, N.D. -- Why her?
Not, Why her, specifically. Not, Why was this young woman, a college student going about the tasks and diversions of life, suddenly taken from a Grand Forks mall parking lot more than two weeks ago?Indeed, people have agonized over that since 22-year-old Dru Sjodin disappeared on Nov. 22, her life interrupted during a telephone conversation with her boyfriend in the Twin Cities.
But increasingly they also have asked: Why her? as in, Why has this abduction, of all the abductions that occur, drawn such overwhelming attention from the media, law enforcement and the public?
People and Newsweek magazines had reporters in Grand Forks. ABC's "Good Morning America" sent a second news crew after the arrest of Alfonso Rodriguez Jr., accused of kidnapping Sjodin. Grand Forks police Sgt. Mike Hedlund became a network news show regular, appearing with Sjodin family members to assure the nation that the search would be relentless.
Dru SjodinNot since the flood of 1997, the other calamity that will define Grand Forks in the national mind for years, have so many satellite TV trucks been parked in the city.
Rodriguez, a convicted sex offender and state-branded predator, denies having anything to do with Sjodin. "I did not kidnap her," he told his court-appointed attorney Friday night, according to public defender David Dusek, who recounted the conversation minutes later -- on MSNBC.
Part of the answer to why interest has been so keen in this "nightmarish crime," as a prosecutor called it during Rodriguez's first court appearance Thursday, certainly lies in the dramatic and chilling circumstances of Sjodin's abduction: spirited from a public place in daylight, her last words a startled "Oh, my God!" before the phone conversation with her boyfriend ended so abruptly.
Allan Sjodin addresses media.Ben GarvinStar TribunePart of the answer may be a family, relentless in its faith that she lives and needs to be found -- heartbroken parents and an unrelentingly protective big brother who mounted a clinic on how to sustain public interest.
"I should have been in Minnesota, taking care of her," big brother Sven said at one news briefing, looking strong and helpless at the same time. And strangers responded, "I should be in Minnesota, helping to look for her."
And part of the answer may be in Dru Sjodin's smile: Beauty to the Beast some people see in Rodriguez, released from captivity in May after serving 23 years for vicious attacks on women.
"She is good-looking, a nice smile, and I don't think there's any doubt that's part of the general interest," said Ted Elbert, a field producer for NBC News, who attended Rodriguez's court appearance.
For another grieving father, that raises another question.
"My immediate reaction to all the attention this case has received was, 'Why her? Why not my son?' " Bill Turcotte asks.
Russell Turcotte, 19, disappeared on July 13, 2002, after talking with his mother from a telephone at a Grand Forks truck stop. There were no mass searches, no daily police news briefings, no statements of outrage by governors, no appearances on "Today" or "Good Morning America."
Russell's remains were found more than three months later among trees off U.S. Hwy. 2 by Devils Lake, N.D., a little more than an hour's drive west of Grand Forks. He was murdered, his father said. No one has been charged in his death.
"My son was also young," Bill Turcotte said. "He was male, and he also was damn attractive."
He also was American Indian. Is that part of the answer? Police say no. Some reporters covering this story, including Elbert, wonder. So does Bill Turcotte.
A tough pill
Elbert said NBC's Tom Brokaw, a native of South Dakota, made the decision on Monday, before Rodriguez's arrest at his home in Crookston, Minn., to dispatch a crew to the Red River Valley.
"He said we would see the solidarity of these communities here in the Dakotas, something that was proven in the flood," Elbert said. But driving the story, too, he said, was the face that smiled from fliers all over the valley and from newspapers and television screens all over the country.
Stephen Lee, a reporter for the Grand Forks Herald, agreed.
"She's very attractive," he said. "And she's the daughter everybody would like to have. Nobody has had anything but good things to say about her, and the family is so remarkable."
Lee also covered Russell Turcotte's disappearance last year.
"Russell was sort of a vagabond, on the road a lot," he said. "How do you know he hasn't just gone down the road? And he had no local ties.
"I sympathize with his family. It's hard not to agree with his family that being American Indian didn't help, that there wasn't that personal connection with the public," which made it easier for his story to fade quickly.
Bill Turcotte, who lives in Chinook, Mont., said he doesn't resent the Sjodin family for sustaining concern for their daughter: "At first, it was, 'Why her?' But almost instantaneously, it was, 'This is exactly what should happen for all missing people.'
"I'm grateful this family is getting all this attention. But it's a real tough pill to swallow that this didn't happen for my son."
Grand Forks police say that they sympathize with Turcotte, but that the circumstances in the two cases were different. Russell was passing through the area, bound for who knows where, and authorities had nothing like Sjodin's startled cry or the fading signal of her cell phone, tracked to an area of farm fields, woods and wetlands a dozen miles east of Grand Forks.
Whatever the reason, and despite the failure so far to locate her, the task force that Police Chief John Packett assembled to search for Sjodin and her abductor has been "a model effort," the chief said at a news briefing last week.
That includes an acknowledgment by the police and the family that the swarm of media, meddlesome and irritating at times, could help in the search for Sjodin.
"We need you," Capt. Mike Kirby said.
"Maybe they learned from us," Bill Turcotte said.
One comfort
Jill Butler, 25, who has closely followed each day's developments in the Sjodin case from more than 300 miles away in Minneapolis, said it wasn't just her blue eyes, frosted blond hair and sweet smile that captivated people.
"She is a young, vibrant, attractive female," Butler wrote in an e-mail to the Star Tribune, but she also was "working two jobs while attending college." She has a strong family behind her and a supportive community around her.
"I personally have become so interested and saddened because I am relatively close in age to her, and I cannot fathom what she has endured," she said. "It scares me. I am terrified for her, her family and friends.
"The only thing that is somewhat comforting is the fact that thousands share my emotions and are able to assist in the search. I am unable to help look for the girl. I want to do something, anything."
Butler will make a donation to the Red Cross or another agency helping with the searches, she said, and she may send a message to Sjodin's family through their Web site, http://www.finddru.com.
The Web site was created shortly after she disappeared. There, she reappears in a dozen photographs and in testimonials from friends and relatives. Within a few days, the site had recorded more than 5 million hits.
"We want America to know everything we know," Sven Sjodin said.
North Dakota Gov. John Hoeven met with Sven and Allan Sjodin, Dru's father. "This is a very tough situation, and everybody in the state is focused on it," he said in an interview last week.
Why?
"This is a wonderful young woman," he said. "This is a great family. We all think so much of Dru."
It could happen to anybody.
No safe spots
Stephen Watson, a sales coordinator for a window company in Ashland, Wis., said he considered hauling his ATV to North Dakota to help with the search last week.
"I have been unable to get it out of my mind," he wrote in an e-mail.
"I think the reason it has struck so many people is the way that it happened. In a mall parking lot? No one sees her being abducted? Did she scream for help? No one heard? The second phone call, and no one there?
"I can't imagine the fear that this poor girl went through or is going through. All I can keep thinking about is it could be my daughter, who is 22 years old as well and a nursing student. It strikes close to home.
"It makes a person want to sit down and cry. It is a huge reminder that there are many sick people in this world. No longer can we say, 'This is a small town; that kind of stuff doesn't happen here.' There are no safe spots in the world anymore."
Chuck Haga is at crhaga@startribune.com.
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