#hernameisshelleysikes and i was almost 11. i remember practicing backbends in my Grandparents' front yard intentionally so i could see Shelley years before. She was everything i wanted to be. Washing her car in the driveway, she was all laughs and all legs. My hero. Just beautiful and full of life, joy and laughter. My parents had removed us from League City and escaped to Clear Lake Shores by this time. My mom and i hung up stacks and stacks of MISSING posters. When we ran out, we would venture back to Texas City for more. Hushed voices and whispers told me the story. In my mind, it was The Lucky Ones that got to disappear. Context- 1970s and 1980s in League City, TX. My babysitter's best friend, young girls of "ill-repute", questionable morals, "walking" the streets. It's so shameful now but at the time it was easier for my parents to believe those things than it was to live in such a world where there were blameless victims. Victims are blameless. Shelley was blameless. All the girls and boys in the Texas Killing Fields were blameless. Nothing any of them could have possibly done could warrant their demise as a natural consequence. Period. End of discussion. They were babes. They all had Life. They all had Dreams and Love. They were all known and loved and had names. Shelley waved at me and my world was turned upside-down by just a fast smile and quick wave. I felt so alive. I was thrilled. So much so that I secretly knew it was just too good to be true. #hernamewasshelleysikes and #shelleysikeswasmyhero and #shelleysikesmatters