I will always remember waking up one morning to a text from my 22-year-old daughter that was sent at 4:00 am. It said, “Hi Mom. I know it’s late. I’m at Alex’s place. I love you. Sorry! I’ll be home tomorrow morning. Thank you.”
It felt strange. The message came from her Gmail account, not her cell phone. And what was with the “Thank you”?
I gently shook my husband awake and showed him the message. He mentioned that he had checked the alarm system earlier and saw that someone entered our home around 3:20 am and left around 3:30 am.
I immediately called her cell, sent texts, and even emailed her Gmail account. Nothing.
I checked her room. Everything seemed normal; her phone charger, overnight bag, and toothbrush were all there—items I thought she would take with her if she was staying out.
My husband opened the Find My Phone app, which we had told her to keep on. The screen read, “Not Located.”
I tried to dismiss my worries and carry on with my day. She had told me she was out with a friend after work and would be back by morning. Surely, her phone was just dead, and she was sleeping. But still, an uneasy feeling lingered. I kept calling, texting, and checking the app throughout the morning.
A few hours later, her phone pinged—it was showing a location in North Carolina. We live in Florida. Panic surged through me like a tidal wave.
I dashed to my husband’s office and urged him to check the security footage. Nothing. I told him to reach out to the security company. “Someone entered our home at 3:20 am! There should be footage! Tell them it’s urgent!”
Terrified, I called 911. The dispatcher fired off questions: Who was she last seen with? What did the car look like? Where had they gone? But therein lay the problem. I didn’t know the last name of her friend. I had no address or phone number, and I wasn’t sure where they went for drinks.
My daughter had recently moved back in with us while transitioning between schools. She wanted us to treat her like an adult, so when she announced she was going out with a friend and would be home by 1:00 am, I simply told her to be safe.
As I spoke to the dispatcher, I struggled to keep my fear in check while providing whatever details I could.
A few moments later, an officer called to ask more questions as he made his way to our location. He inquired if anyone else might know her whereabouts or details about her friend.
Her BEST FRIEND! While I was on the landline with the officer, I called her best friend on my cell. She revealed that my daughter had texted her at 4:00 am as well. She mentioned that my daughter told her she lost her phone and hadn’t heard from her since.
Thankfully, she knew the last name of the friend my daughter was with, and we relayed that to the officer. He quickly identified the friend and found his contact information. He assured me he would call the number and get back to me right away.
Soon after I hung up, a call came in from an unknown number.
“Mom, it’s me. I’m okay.”
Relief washed over me, and the tears began to flow. The officer had located her.
She explained that around 1:00 am, as her friend was dropping her off, he stopped for gas. When he was refueling, she got out too, and in the process, her phone slipped from her pocket. A few miles down the road, she realized it was missing. They retraced their steps, but the phone was gone. To avoid worrying us about losing her phone, she simply texted that she wouldn’t be coming home.
Neither of them realized that while they were trying to track her phone, my husband and I thought she had been taken to North Carolina.
The lesson here is crucial: I told her I understood her desire for independence as an adult, but this isn’t just about that. It’s about safety.
Had my daughter been taken to North Carolina instead of her phone, I would have blamed myself forever. Phones can be replaced; daughters cannot.
Moving forward, there’s a new plan in place. It’s not about controlling her or treating her like a child; it’s about ensuring her safety and safeguarding my own peace of mind. Now, when she goes out, I have her friend’s full name, phone number, and address, as well as their destination.
This time, she got it. She understood.
To all parents of young adults, I understand the desire to give your kids space. However, knowing who they are with when they leave your home—regardless of their age—isn’t an invasion of privacy; it’s essential. It’s necessary for answering the questions a 911 dispatcher might ask, and I hope you never have to be in that situation.
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In summary, the night my daughter went missing turned into a terrifying lesson about the importance of communication and safety. While she seeks independence, it is crucial for parents to keep lines of communication open and ensure they know who their children are with for their own peace of mind.
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