Leanne Green.

Every time I cross over the railroad tracks. Every time I find myself out by the interstate.  Every time I’m out riding and drinking coffee;  stopping and getting out on some random road;  or out walking where I shouldn’t be, I think about her. Before there was Holly Bobo, there was Leanne Green. Two bright, beautiful small town girls who had their entire lives snatched away from them in the blink of an eye. Two crimes that captivated the state of Tennessee. Two crimes that seem almost impossible, yet, somehow, they existed. I’ve long since wanted to write a book on Leanne Green. But then again, what would you say? What do we even know? I’ve been reading and researching about this for as long as I can remember, and every year I get more and more determined.

I can still remember the way my friends from Nashville screamed out at me when they showed her face on the news on the anniversary of one of her disappearances a few years back.

“Candi,” they called. “Is this the girl you talk about all the time?”

It was.

Then, the really painful question:  “What happened to her?”

We don’t know.

Even worse — we may never know.

The years I spent researching Holly Bobo’s disappearance, I kept  thinking that it would be appropriate to somehow write a tribute book on the unsolved disappearances of women in Tennessee (like Tabitha Tudors) to bring national awareness to the cases.  It seemed to call out at me late at night when I couldn’t sleep. In a empty house, all alone, I often thought:  “Why them and not me?”

And more pressing, was the thought:  What can I do to help fix it?

While we may someday — if the state of Tennessee ever actually takes it to trial — know the details of Holly Bobo, we (the public) know little or nothing about Leanne. We don’t even know the name, or the description, of the man two witness saw talking to her on the side of the road that night while her brother was gone. Or do we? (I don’t.) I just know there was one, confirmed by the then-sheriff in a radio interview (who wouldn’t release the name).

There are answers out there — and I have a new suspect from Camden, Tennessee. (His last name is Bruce. And he’s a bastard. And I want to know if he’s a bastard who had anything to do with the death of Leanne Green.)

Let it be noted:  It was a freelance writer and blogger that begin to piece together the attacks on other boys — that the police should have linked — that finally led to the solving of the murder of Jacob Wetterling.

We no longer live in a time or an age where we have to wait for answers or trust what we we’re told.

I want answers for Leanne Green.  I know you do, too. It’s been long enough. And if it takes me online-stalking people and reading through cases until the day I die before I get enough information to compose a book, damn it — I’m gonna get those answers. Or, at least, some of the questions out.

You don’t get to take a girl from my town and get away with it forever, you sick sociopath.

One day, someday, justice — and the wrath of God — will find you.


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