Black Cat Weekly #79

Chapter 5-1

bySome private investigators hide alcohol in their desks; I hide family-size bags of chocolate. I started my professional life as a middle-school teacher with a genealogical research hobby. Then genetic genealogy became a method of finding the missing and giving identities to the genetically unmoored. Inspired by the idea of connecting people with lost relatives, I switched careers. I worked to get my license, put up a webpage, and then dove into research on behalf of clients searching for family. It was fascinating work that sometimes gave disheartening results. I hadn’t bargained for all the people who didn’t want to be found and didn’t want to connect, which sometimes made me wonder if my work actually accomplished anything.

So, as my office door opened one Monday afternoon, I slid my bag of chocolates into a drawer and hastily wiped my hands on my jeans to remove any trace of food coloring from the hard candy shells while hoping I could help the woman who entered.

Wearing a tailored red suit that spoke of affluence, she appeared to be in her fifties and moved with assurance. Her expensively cut and dyed brown hair was bobbed at an angle, shorter above the nape of her neck but lengthening to her chin in front.

Rising from my chair, I said, “Welcome to Laster Genetic Genealogy and Investigation. I’m Maya Laster.”

“Bettina Pride,” the lady responded. “Call me Betty.” Her voice was clear with a musical lilt.

“How can I help you?” I asked. My own voice, which was always raspy, sounded even rougher compared to Betty’s bell-like tones.

“I want to find out what happened to my father, George Pride. He vanished in June 1975.”

I gestured to the cushioned visitor’s chair across from my desk. “Please sit.” After opening the new-client file on my laptop, I collected her basic personal information and explained my fees. That done, I asked, “When and where was your father last seen?”

Betty said, “I was four years old, and we were living here in Dallas. My mother told me that my father left for a four-week business trip to Alaska. He never came home.”

“Were the police involved at the time?”

“Mom reported Dad missing, but the police said he was an adult with every right to leave. He took clothing with him in suitcases, so they suggested he moved out. Then, mom discovered that he wasn’t on a business trip. His company told her that his sales region covered Texas, Oklahoma, Louisiana, and Arkansas. They didn’t send him to Alaska.”

“The police decided he’d abandoned his wife and child?”

“Yes. But my mother disagreed. She never doubted that he’d return if he could. Mom died last year. Her last wish was that I find out what happened to Dad.”

“What was your mother’s name?” I asked.

“Tina Constance Pride. She was his fourth wife. The first three were Monica, Erica, and Rita, all with the last name Pride.” Betty took out her phone, “I can send you a file of the information I’ve accumulated. It includes marriage dates, photos, and the wives’ full names and dates of birth. My half-siblings are listed, too.”

I gave her my email address, and she sent the files.

Betty put down her phone. “My father was the king of flirting and had charm to spare. He traveled for work and married all four wives without divorcing any.”

I gave her a sympathetic look. “He was a bigamist.”

“Yes, but I only remember a generous man who brought me gifts every time he came home. Mom discovered that Dad didn’t divorce his previous wives when she tried to have him declared dead. A bitter lawsuit ensued, and, consequently, the half-siblings I’ve approached don’t want to have any relationship with me. That’s another reason why I’d like to locate Dad’s family. Since Mom died, I have no relatives who want to acknowledge me. I’d like to meet relatives, Ms. Laster.”

“I can’t guarantee that any relatives I locate will agree to meet you.” My stomach clenched. For me, genetic genealogy had always been about the thrill of connecting people. But my last three cases had ended in disappointment for my clients because newfound relatives didn’t want to face family complexities, or in some cases, ugly truths that I’d exposed. They’d left me pondering the value of my work. If I connected no one, what did I achieve? I swallowed my own frustration at the memory of those cases and focused on Betty Pride. I asked, “Have you ever taken a genetic test for ancestry purposes?”

“Yes. Besides the half-siblings I already knew, the results included two half-siblings with the last name Silversmith. One of the Silversmiths was born three weeks after Dad left, and the other was born in 1969, before my parents even met. It’s possible my father went to live with another family under another name.” An undertone of disappointment came through as she spoke.

“Having those genetic results will save us time. With your ancestry report, I can begin researching your father’s family.”

After Betty left, I dug into the case, starting with the missing man, George Pride, and soon discovered that he didn’t exist. His birth certificate was fake. A sinking feeling told me that I’d be revealing ugly truths to another family soon, but I kept going.

Reviewing the genealogy results Betty provided, I wondered about those unknown half-siblings. Any number of scenarios could explain why they were named Silversmith instead of Pride—adoption, name changes, or birth out of wedlock. Or maybe George Pride’s last name was really Silversmith.

Using the ancestry results from Betty Pride and all her half-siblings, census records, and obituaries, I began to build family trees, searching for her father’s true identity. Eight hours later, as my stomach growled in a way that chocolate wouldn’t cure and my blond hair stood on end from running my fingers through it, I found a name: Roger Silversmith. He was an only child, as were his parents. He had no cousins or siblings.

Roger Silversmith had an interesting history. He was reported missing in July 1975 by his wife, Jessica Silversmith, whom he’d married in 1964. He was still listed as missing on a national missing persons database. The picture of Roger Silversmith on the database matched the picture of George Pride.

Before his marriage to Jessica, Roger Silversmith had married and divorced two wives, Sandra Connors and Mary Smithers. Even more interesting, Jessica Silversmith was still alive, and her husband’s missing person case was an open cold case for the Oklahoma City Police.

Since it was approaching midnight, I decided to wait until morning to call them. Tired and hungry, I called it a night.

Tuesday morning, I spoke to a detective named Cruz in the cold case unit. After updating her on what I’d discovered, she sent me a copy of her file on the disappearance of Roger Silversmith. According to the file notes, in mid-July 1975, Roger attended the birth of his third child, a daughter named Lorraine, with his wife Jessica. He gave out cigars, ate a family dinner, left for work, and vanished. His family and friends swore he wouldn’t have abandoned his wife, kids, and new baby. Everyone suspected foul play.

The Oklahoma City Police file contained information on Roger Silversmith’s employer. Comparing the file with the information Betty provided, I discovered that her father worked for two companies under two different names and social security numbers, an easy thing to do at a time when getting a new social security number required no proof of identity. As George Pride, her father worked as a traveling salesman, who covered the same territory as Roger Silversmith, who worked for a rival company selling the same products. The Oklahoma file indicated that his employer found him to be a reliable salesman who fell in the middle of the pack in his sales force. I suspected Roger gave half his sales to each company.

I drew up a timeline of Roger’s life.

Born 1940 in Texas.

Married Sandra in Texarkana in 1960, divorced in 1962.

Married Mary in Hot Springs in 1962, divorced in 1964.

Married Jessica in Oklahoma City in 1964.

Created a new identity as George Pride.

Married Monica in Amarillo in 1966.

Married Erica in Baton Rouge in 1967.

Married Rita in Houston in 1969.

Married Betty’s mother Tina in Dallas in 1970. Betty was born in 1971.

Disappeared in July 1975 after visiting Jessica for the birth of his daughter, Lorraine.

I reviewed the court documents related to George Pride being declared dead. Monica, Erica, Rita, and Tina all claimed that they were married to George, but that he traveled regularly for work. Including Jessica Silversmith, the man was seeing at least five wives at the time of his disappearance. Given the pace at which he’d married, I wondered if Tina was his last wife.

I’d submitted Betty Pride’s genetic profile to my favorite genetic genealogy database the previous day. My search results came back with additional family members for Betty. Another half-sibling appeared, but this one wasn’t named Silversmith or Pride. This one was named Johnson. Raymond Johnson, son of Pamela and Roger Johnson, was born in 1974. Pamela, now deceased, had lived in Fort Worth, Texas, and had married Roger Johnson in 1973. By comparing Raymond Johnson’s genetic family tree to Betty Pride’s, I determined Roger Johnson was Roger Silversmith.

Searching for Roger Johnson, I found one final marriage record. He’d married Angela Currant in Waco, Texas, in late June 1975, only a month before he vanished.

Angela, Pamela, Monica, Erica, Rita, Tina, Sandra, Mary, Jessica: nine marriages with only two divorces, under three different identities. A busy man. After sending a message to Detective Cruz updating her on what I’d found, I knew my next step would be to talk to Jessica Silversmith, one of the last people to see the missing man in July 1975. I’d have to go see her in Oklahoma.

Wednesday morning, I printed a copy of my research file, packed it with my laptop, and drove north on I-35 from Dallas to Oklahoma City to see Jessica Silversmith in person.

The Silversmith residence sat on a quiet neighborhood street in Oklahoma City. I rang the doorbell. After a brief wait, an octogenarian with fine silver hair in a halo of curls around her head answered the door. She wore a yellow day dress and leaned heavily on a cane, giving her a stooped posture.

I said, “I’m Maya Laster. I was hired to investigate a missing person case in Dallas. Your husband, Roger Silversmith, vanished in 1975. His disappearance is related to my case.”

The woman gave me a stunned look and her right hand flew to her chest, which told me that the Oklahoma City Police hadn’t contacted her about developments in the case yet. “Do you have information about Roger?” she asked in a breathless voice.

“Yes, ma’am. May I come in and explain?” I wondered if her heart could take the news I had.

“Who is it, Maw?” A younger voice with a musical cadence and clear tones, reminding me of my client, Betty Pride, came from within the house.

Mrs. Silversmith said, “Lorraine, it’s an investigator with news on your father.”

Lorraine appeared behind her mother wearing stylish white linen capris, a red blouse, and a skeptical look. “Sounds like a scam to me. Can I see some identification?”

The resemblance between Lorraine and her half-sister, my client Betty, went beyond their similar voices. They shared the same poise, coloring, profile, and build. I showed her my investigator’s license and explained that I’d been in contact with a cold case detective at the Oklahoma City PD regarding the disappearance of Roger Silversmith because his case had intersected with one that I was working.