Human Interest
By Josh Mankiewicz, Dateline Correspondent
It's been a long road for Cindy Sommer. Her U.S. Marine husband died in February, 2002, and she just got out of jail last week after being convicted by a jury of his murder. Now here's the hitch: she's innocent. Officially.
Cops and prosecutors will tell you, somewhat derisively, that the jails and prisons are just full of innocent men and women, that everyone behind bars comes armed with a story about how they got jobbed by the system. I don't know how often that's true, but it's certainly true for Cindy Sommer.
Her husband dropped dead on the bedroom floor that awful night, and although Cindy tried to do CPR, Todd Sommer died at only 23. The official cause of death was a heart attack.
A year or so later, Naval investigators (NCIS) were about to close the case when they decided to send Todd's tissue samples to a lab for heavy-metals analysis. That lab test came back showing more than a thousand times the amount of arsenic in Todd Sommer's tissues than should have been there.
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By Hoda Kotb, NBC News
It still hurts. A year has passed and it still hurts. I keep paging through the newspapers and reading bits and pieces, stories of survivors a year later. My heart aches. I am a 1986 Virginia Tech graduate. It may have been 22 years since I graduated, but I feel so close to that campus. It’s my school.
I will never forget one year ago, those images, those frantic kids running across my campus, through my drill field, becoming my memories. I searched for people I knew—some teachers, Tri-Delta sorority sisters. I realized that even though I didn’t personally know the people who were killed, I did know them. They were brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, they wore maroon and orange and cheered for the Hokies. They were family.
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By Leonor Ayala, Dateline Field Producer
At 8:45 in the morning, I found myself zipping down a lonely, long stretch of road. State Road 62 in Florida wasn't much to look at in that hour, just lots of open space and farm land (of course this from my city girl's point of view). This led me to second guess myself. Was I going in the right direction?
My mind was racing. I was en route to my very first meeting with a first-degree murderer at Hardee Correctional Institution.
When I thought about stepping inside a prison for the first time, my anxiety wasn't for my personal safety. It wasn't about the pat-down everyone had warned me about, or being a few feet from a convicted killer. It was about getting to the prison on time.
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By Liz Brown, Dateline Producer
Carol Kent grew up the daughter of a preacher. Religion has always been her touchstone. That and her love of family. But this devoted Christian doesn't go to church on Sundays anymore.
Carol and her husband have a new Sunday ritual. They still put on their best clothes and pile into their car, minds filled with anticipation for what is ahead. When they arrive, they might chat with their fellow congregants, and nod to the staff as they take their places. But instead of a church, their new Sunday destination is a Florida prison. Their pews are plastic chairs, the congregants are visiting families, and the staff pack guns. Carol calls it the Church of the Razor Wire.
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By Elizabeth Shoaf
Down in the bunker was hell. When I first went in, it was very dark and cold. I couldn’t see anything and everything looked creepy. After Vinson turned on the lights, it was even creepier. It looked unreal, almost like I was in a really bad dream. CONTINUED >>
By Madeline Shoaf
After seven sleepless days and nights, we finally got a lead in the case. My family and I were to attend another vigil for Elizabeth at the state capitol. My husband would stay behind just in case there were any phone calls. As I was leaving, I grabbed my cell phone and there was a text message on it. I looked at it and about fell to the ground.It was a message from my daughter. I knew it was from Elizabeth, yet it was the scariest message I ever received.
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A Dateline special on adoption in Guatemala airs on NBC Sunday, Jan. 20 at 7pm ET.
By Benita Noel, Dateline Producer
I felt like I was on a roller coaster. The car, which seemed to have no shock absorbency whatsoever, hit the bumps with a resounding thump - over and over again. I had my hand flat up against the roof to brace myself, but it wasn't much help. More than once I went sliding across the seat, as did everyone else in the car.
It was March 22, 2007 and our driver was making his way - much too fast it seemed - along a mostly unpaved, almost comically windy road from Guatemala City to Jalapa, 110 miles away. We'd been warned to avoid drinking too much water or coffee before the trip, and now I knew why.
At least we were all laughing about it. I was with my field producer, Leonor Ayala, and our crew, cameraman Bob Abrahamsen and soundman Randy Foster. We also had our Guatemalan "fixer" in the car (hired to help us with everything from translating, to directions, to letting us know which areas of the city we shouldn't take our cameras into without security) - and a private investigator. We were going to Jalapa to videotape the reunion of two young sisters with their family - nearly 5 months after they'd been kidnapped from their home, abused and almost adopted by unsuspecting families in the U.S.
In many ways, the shoot was a producer's nightmare. We'd all gotten up at the crack of dawn, only to wait an hour for everyone to arrive and get organized, and then we'd driven to a fast-food restaurant where we waited another hour for the police we'd be following. Nobody in Guatemala seems to be in much of a rush to do anything. And there wasn't much of a plan. Nobody seemed sure where the reunion would happen, or even if we'd make it to Jalapa on time. We were winging it.
About 15 minutes outside of Jalapa, there was a series of frenzied phone calls between the private investigator, the police and various people at the Jalapa District Attorney's office. There was chaotic confusion; the reunion had already happened, no, it was happening in two minutes. It was happening on the street, no, it was happening in an office inside the building. Someone had changed their mind - they didn't want us there after all. No, that was a mistake. Go to this corner, no, go that corner.
Bob, our cameraman, got anxious, frantically trying to pull his camera out of the pile of cases we'd jammed into the back of the car. I told him not to worry, the only thing that really mattered that morning was those poor little girls were finally going to see their mother again. Still, we all wanted to witness the moment.
Somehow, our driver managed to pull over in the right place just in time for Bob to point his camera out the window of the car and focus on a darling little 5-year-old girl running full speed down the sidewalk towards a nervous looking woman waiting around the corner. In an instant, all the stressed commotion subsided. We just watched in silence.
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| Galicia family reunited |
Because we'd stayed a good block away, we couldn't hear anything, but I didn't need to, the tears were already spilling down my face. I could see the girls' mother wiping her eyes, her body shaking as she clung to her daughters and stroked their hair. I could see that the 5-year-old, who was clinging to a doll, had buried her head into her mother's leg, the same way my own daughter sometimes does.
Afterwards, we were invited inside the District Attorney's office to meet the family. The two kidnapped girls, 5-year-old Candida, and 9-year-old Claudia, were seated on a bench alongside their mother Clara, and an older brother, Ceasar. I was immediately struck by these children's smiles - they all have the most infectious grins, and they were beaming. They waved at us playfully and giggled uncontrollably when Bob (pictured left) made silly faces at them.
Clara, who is shy and soft spoken, was subdued, but obviously relieved, and immensely grateful. She repeatedly thanked the private investigator, who had been instrumental in getting her daughters returned, as well as us. She was hoping we'd be able to help find her third kidnapped daughter. I wished I could promise her we could.
Pictured: Clara Galicia
When I pulled out my digital camera to take some photos, the children were delighted. I don't speak Spanish but it didn't matter. I showed them how to use it by pointing at the buttons they needed to push, and then let them take turns taking photos. It only took a moment for me to realize how little Candida had survived her traumatic ordeal. She was monopolizing the camera defiantly, bossing her brother and sister around as she took one photo after another. I knew right then that this tough little cookie will be just fine.
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| Photo of Benita Noel and Leonor Ayala taken by Candida |
Late that night, after we'd spent the day with Candida and her family, and we were bouncing our way back along that nightmarish road to Guatemala City, tears fell down my face again. Candida and her siblings are enchanting, joyful children full of curiosity, eagerness and beautiful spirit. Their parents are lovely, gentle people who despite their modest life and financial limitations, provide their children with an abundance of genuine, nurturing love. I cried because I was incensed at the kidnappers who'd so brazenly abused this family. I cried because it made me ache inside to see a mother in such agonizing pain, wondering when, or even if, she'll ever see her third kidnapped daughter again. I cried because I so wished I could help, and yet, had no idea how.
Pictured: Candida, Claudia and Ceasar
UPDATE - Producer Benita Noel responds to comments:
Sadly, I can assure you that these children were indeed kidnapped -- and that they were offered for adoption. When you watch our story on Sunday, you will understand how it happened. By telling the Galicia family's story, we are by no means implying that all adoptions are corrupt. During the course of putting this story together, I was repeatedly touched by the great joy and love that adoptive parents have brought to so many lucky Guatemalan children. I also believe that for the most part, the safeguards that are designed to circumvent crime do work. But, the reality is that unfortunately there are some corrupt operators who have tried to take advantage of the system. I realize that any discussion about corruption in Guatemalan adoptions is extremely difficult for the thousands of parents in this country who have, or are about to, adopt from Guatemala. I am a mother myself, and I completely understand the inclination to protect those adopted children. Nobody wants to be stigmatized - nobody wants other people to point fingers at their children, or worse, say something to their face, suggesting that because there is some corruption, all adoptions must be tainted. While I was researching this story, many people told me that they wanted to speak up about bad experiences with questionable operators in Guatemala, or unscrupulous agencies here in the U.S., but they were too scared. Some were afraid they would never get their children home if they didn't keep quiet, some were afraid of repercussions from their agencies, and many were afraid of being crucified by other adoptive parents for daring to say anything negative about Guatemalan adoptions. Recently, one family who has been through one traumatic ordeal after another in the course of trying to adopt was actually threatened by someone in Guatemala who promised their baby would never come home if our story aired. There is no excuse for that type of manipulative bullying, particularly when you are dealing with innocent children and emotionally vulnerable adoptive parents. That is the reason I believe that whatever the scope may be, corruption needs to be addressed. To this day, the parents of the kidnapped Galicia girls are devastated. The last time I saw Rodolfo Galicia, the father, he was so distraught he had actually been hospitalized because he can barely eat. Clara Galicia actually contemplated suicide before the two girls pictured above were safely returned home.
You can see photos of users' adopted children here, and read their adoption stories here.
Read correspondent Victoria Corderi's blog on the two sides of Guatemalan adoption here.
For more on the positive side of international adoption, see Dateline's story about a Philadelphia family that adopted three sets of twins from Russia.
A special Dateline on adoption in Guatemala airs on NBC Sunday, Jan. 20 at 7pm ET.
By Victoria Corderi, Dateline NBC Correspondent
I witnessed the joy of a successful foreign adoption when my sister came home with a baby boy from Guatemala more than five years ago. Today, my nephew is thriving and my sister is as thrilled as she was when she first held her son in her arms. There are many people who've had similar life-changing experiences. But there is also a dark side to Guatemalan adoption: corruption, lies, forgery, kidnapping, broken hearts. The market is driven by the demand for adoptions from prospective parents in the U.S. And, as so often happens when there is high demand and the potential for a profit, swindlers appear to exploit the system.
Guatemala has been an adoption magnet because the wait for a child is months rather than years. When we traveled to Guatemala City, we saw hotel lobbies brimming with Americans meeting with lawyers and foster mothers and cradling the babies they were in the process of adopting. The sheer numbers of babies and strollers and anxious adoptive parents milling about the hotels and streets made for a surreal sight. At first blush, it seems like a win-win situation: unwanted children escape the dire poverty that plagues much of this country while Americans longing for children are able to fulfill their dreams.
But what if the children up for adoption were taken under false pretenses? Or, if poor, pregnant women are pressured by brokers offering money? And what if the children have been kidnapped outright? These are not rhetorical questions. We learned what happens during our investigation. While we were in Guatemala, we found out about three young girls who'd been kidnapped by a ring that gave them new identities and tried to sell them for adoption. We also tried to go inside the system by posing as a new adoption agency from the United States looking for contacts. We set up meetings with a controversial adoption facilitator whose name kept coming up when we were looking into complaints about unethical operators in Guatemala. What happened in both situations was eye-opening and dramatic.
You can see photos users' adopted children here, and read their adoption stories here.
Read producer Benita Noel's blog on two kidnapped Guatemalan kids who were reunited with their family.
For more on the positive side of international adoption, see Dateline's story about a Philadelphia family that adopted three sets of twins from Russia.
By Marianne O'Donnell, Dateline Producer
I saw a young man holding a sign with my name on it as I left the baggage claim area of Florence's main airport.
"Hello" I said, forgetting that English was not the lingua franca here.
"Buongiorno!" he smiled hesitatingly. "Ms. O'Donnell?"
"Oh, right, buongiorno," I corrected myself.
The driver said his name was Mauritzio, and for a moment I wondered whether the dispatcher of a car service or the editors of Vogue had sent him here. He had a perfect right angle for a nose -- what they call a classic Roman nose, I guess -- a defined jaw and dark hair gelled back. A lock of it had managed to escape the rest of the black slick; it curled seductively above his brow like an upside-down question mark. He wore a tailored blue pinstripe with a black leather coat and caramel colored loafers. He wasn't a driver. He was Adonis. As I seated myself in the back of his spacious Mercedes, he climbed behind the wheel, slipped on his black sunglasses and grinned into his rearview mirror.
"We go?" he asked.
"Uh, sure." I stammered. "I mean, good ... uh," since the breadth of my Italian started with 'bongiorno' and ended with 'arrivederci', with nothing in between, it was obvious I was going to need more than his driving skills.
"Bene?" he helped me.
"Right. Right. BEHH-nay," I parrotted. Saying it was a little like taking a rollercoaster ride. Up on the 'beh', down suddenly on the 'nay'. Italian was fun. "The Brufani Hotel in Perugia, please."
Ten hours earlier I had been sitting inside my senior producer's office in New York when I realized I was going to have to hotfoot it to the nearest airport and get myself to Italy. My assignment was to work the ground in a small city in the central part of the country. Perugia. I knew famous chocolates came from there, succulent Perugina Bacci's, but Dateline doesn't cover candy festivals. It does cover murders, though, and a particularly ghoulish one days earlier had left the town still shaken.
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By Dan Slepian, Dateline Producer
Imagine your loved one -- your brother, your son, your father -- is arrested, convicted and locked up for life for a murder he didn't commit. Now imagine he serves 15 years for this crime, and after all this time in prison, nearly everyone within the system agrees that he is, in fact, innocent. Then, when a Supreme Court Judge overturns his conviction and he finally gets out, the worst possible scenario happens: he is prosecuted on the same charges all over again. It couldn't happen, right? Wrong. It is happening right now, in New York City.
In nearly 15 years as a television producer, I haven't seen a story like this -- until now.
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