All posts by Brad Dennis

Michelle Le: Family Statement

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Today, over a year since we have found our beautiful Michelle deceased, our family is finally relieved to hear that her killer is convicted of first degree murder.

There are many, many statements that we can make and say. Overall, though, we just want to give a warm and sincere thank you to everyone who has been supporting us through the most difficult year and a half of our lives. We’d like to acknowledge the KlaasKids Foundation, the Hayward Police Department, our legal team DA Butch Ford, Erin Osanna and Tai Nguyen, the Bay Area community, our friends and loved ones, and finally, the jurors, for not only helping us find Michelle but bring justice to her cold, violent and untimely death.

Michelle was a selfless, loving, joyful soul and she is always missed each and every day by her family, friends and all of those who knew her. Though we know we can never physically see, hug or be with Michelle again, we are beyond thankful that our justice system succeeded in giving us a large amount of solace. Grief, though it takes different forms as time goes on, is permanent, but at least the legal portion of the process is now over.

In her memory, our family and loved ones continue her legacy in ways big and small. We plan to stay involved in missing persons cases nationally through the KlaasKids Foundation, scholarships through Samuel Merritt University for aspiring nurses who have financial burden, and finally, but most importantly, keeping those we love as our first priority – always.

For those who wish to continue living Michelle’s legacy, we ask that you please remember those faces of lost loved ones on the news and volunteer in any way you can. Or to simply be grateful for those you love, for we never know when they will be taken from us.

Thank you again.

Sincerely,
The Le Family

Posted in Krystine Dinh, Michelle Le, missing adult | 2 Comments on Michelle Le: Family Statement

Happy Birthday, Michelle

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Clinical group photo taken May 26The trial has been draining.

 
I told Marc and Violet I would try to blog every day, but then when it started, I discovered it was much easier to simply leave the courtroom without having to explain or describe the range of emotions that comes with being in the gallery among our family and all of those who love her. Truth be told, the most exhausting parts of the trial are when the evidentiary facts are being excruciatingly repeated in bone dry format – cold and clinical. Or when the defense is painting a suspected murderer to be a saint, and our family has no choice but to listen on to their shameless attempts at garnering sympathy, including their callous and merciless attacks on who we love. They forget, I suppose, that we lost Michelle because she was murdered in cold blood.

 

I suppose they forget that while they are defending a monster who has “future dreams and life goals”, it is because of her that Michelle will never get the chance to live out her future dreams, pursue her life goals, get married, become a mother, spend holidays with her family and laugh with her friends. Her short living years were quickly and brutally ended, but I suppose they forget that.

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But despite the trial unraveling, today is Michelle’s birthday, and those long courtroom days are not my focus. The DNA forensics, bloodwork and details surrounding her murder, both pre-meditated and following the damned act, may have everything to do with Michelle the victim, but there is always Michelle, the person. Beautiful Michelle Thi Le was 26 when she was killed; today, she would have been 28 years old.

hat-and-michelle

So, today, I will try my hardest to focus on Michelle – the loving, hilarious, carefree, joyful Michelle. The one who kicked ass in board games, who wore big ol’ owl glasses growing up, the one who acted as the Queen when we all played pretend in her backyard playhouse. The one who helped me through my first heartbreak, who taught me how to drive (why anyone thought this was a good idea is still beyond me), who rollerbladed and biked around Mira Mesa when we were all kids, who was a dedicated Beta Phi sorority sister, who saw life through such rose-tinted glasses and always sought the absolute best in people – even if one of those people were to murder her later. Life is painfully ironic at times.

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I miss her so much, it physically hurts today. Most of the time, I still think she will appear around the corner, laughing as she does, making fun of me and all of us because we’re such worrywarts. Being happy go-lucky as usual. Sometimes I really wonder how people grieve and move on. On days like these, it seems almost impossible.

298390_10100635514241173_2856124_n28 years ago today, one of the most amazing, loving, caring, selfless angels was created. I hope she knows that her life and death have inspired so many people in numerous ways. And because of her legacy, her death will never be in vain. Today, though we are without her on this earth, I am envisioning with all my might that she is watching over us as we acknowledge her birthday each in our own ways, being with each of us all, somehow.

I love you and miss you more than anything, Michelle. I know we all do, and that brings some sense of comfort. At least we are not alone, even when the fog of grief is thick. I hope you’re having fun up there, or wherever you are. Happy Birthday, love. Love, love, love you.

Posted in Krystine Dinh, Michelle Le, missing adult | Tagged | 2 Comments on Happy Birthday, Michelle

The Day is Here – We Love You, Michelle

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On May 27, 2011, 26-year-old nursing student Michelle Hoang Thi Le went missing from Hayward, California, just hours before she was going to meet a friend for a weekend trip. Immediately, our family and her friends launched a national search campaign to find her. After 113 exhausting days of searching for her, our amazing volunteers found her on September 17, 2011. Though we didn’t find her alive, like we were vehemently hoping, we had our answer. We had no choice – that answer had to be enough. We laid her to rest and tried with our might to get back to living a different life without her.

It is hard to believe that a year ago today, we found Michelle, after 113 days of searching for her. It’s also hard to believe that the day has come to ensure there is justice for her murder.

The trial is beginning.

I am apprehensive and anxious. And I can’t sleep. The past three weeks have been nerve wracking, to say the least. Every night, my nightmares have revolved around murder, death or being chased by some impending crisis. I’d rather stay awake.

Since she went missing on Friday, May 27, 2011, life took a screeching halt and turned another direction, down a road that we were never prepared to travel. Our search center was our second home; our search teams became our second family.

All that most people see in the news is about her disappearance, the murder, her accused murderer and, now, the trial. But there was a life she had before May 27, 2011 – one full of dancing, playing, laughing, and loving with her friends and her family. Time is slipping by so fast, it seems, and it becomes a challenge to keep that story about the living, breathing Michelle we all know and love. I didn’t want her to become just a memory, a frozen face in pictures. I want to continue telling her story over and over again – about who she was, what food she liked, what she liked to do – everything just to remind myself and others that she existed here, with all of us, before her life was robbed from her.

Our family, her friends – everybody had their own special relationship with her before that day. I can only speak on my own behalf, but I know she spread her light to so many others.

To me, Michelle was a big sister. I looked up to her for as long as I can remember. I miss everything about her.

My favorite memories revolved around Michelle, Michael (her brother), and my brother – all of us within four years of each other in age. Growing up, we would all play “house”, which eventually progressed to video games, Pokémon, card games, board games. You name it, we played it. I remember it was like a kid’s dream come true when Michael and Michelle moved in with our family when she was 14, so the four of us cousins – we all grew up together in a zone that seemed like constant playtime.

We grew older into our teen years. I remember Michelle giving me boy advice in middle school, her tweezing my eyebrows for the first time at twelve, her helping me write my first “crush” letter, burning our sappy love song CDs. My mom even banned us from going into each other’s rooms past 10pm, because we’d be found early in the morning groggy and sleep-deprived from talking until dawn. I remember we even got our first jobs together and scheduled our shifts with each other so we would be able to lounge at La Jolla shores during the day and work at night. I remember choreographing stupid dances to hip hop songs.

We grew up in a huge family with many cousins, most of them boys, so she was my main confidante even into our 20’s. I remember talking about our future weddings and joking about what we would say when we made our maid of honor toasts. I remember talking about me moving back up to the Bay Area so we could hang out here together. I kept my word and I did – only 3 days too late, on May 30, 2011.

She seemed to live as though she knew the secret – that life was short and precious; that relationships mattered most and everything else was just stuff. Most people don’t reach that realization until much later, but Michelle – she always knew. Michelle was joyful, carefree, lighthearted, beautiful inside and out. She laughed easily, joked often, forgave liberally and gave constantly without expecting anything in return. She loved to shop. She was your BEST bargain shopper and had a seriously awesome, fabulous closet. She loved to dance and going out with her friends. She loved to eat, and then judge all restaurants on Yelp. She loved to read. She had 3 tattoos – a compass, a sparrow, and her mom’s signature on her left breast, over her heart. She hated heels and always opted for sandals or boots. She would loan her friends anything they needed or wanted – whether it be a car to get to a job interview or a scarf on a cold day. She gave and gave, and even took her passion for helping and put it toward a career in nursing.

She was in an accelerated nursing program and was only 6 months from graduating from Samuel Merritt University when she was killed. She was only 26 years old.

I remember so much more than words can ever write, than pictures can ever express. I want to capture all of the details in a box, with memories I can pluck out to re-live all the playtimes, shopping dates and conversations we had. But that’s not possible.

Since September 17th 2011, after we found her, we’ve seen grief settle in the veins of each of our lives, spreading its symptoms like a virus. Some of us have lost relationships and friendships after a change of that size and impact. Some of us have grown closer to others who were complete strangers before. Some of us continued to live her legacy because that’s the only way we knew how to cope with our loss – by keeping her name alive. Some of us pretended it never happened, imagining that she’s on vacation or on a very long leave. All of those who loved her – we were all challenged to press ‘reset’ to a new normal.

One of the most important steps of building her legacy and ensuring that her death was not in vain is to make sure her killer is not roaming the streets free with blood on their hands. And we have to take that step – now. Whether or not we want to face the tragedy again, it’s time to. For Michelle.

We cannot thank everyone enough, still, for bringing her home to us. We know that there are many families out there who have missing loved ones, and we were fortunate enough, at least, to be reunited with ours. Please stay with us while we begin the legal process to ensure justice in her name.

She was a granddaughter, a daughter, a sister, a niece, a cousin, a friend, a puppy mom and she is missed everyday.

I love you, Michelle.
We love you, Michelle.

Posted in Krystine Dinh, Michelle Le, missing adult | Tagged | 9 Comments on The Day is Here – We Love You, Michelle

The Glass Half Full and Child Safety

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It was expected to be 106 degrees in Patterson, CA yesterday. Packing lightly, I left my apartment to pick up Danielle [LaMar] from the BART station – ready to head down to the inferno we all call central California. Our three hour mini-roadtrip, though hilariously misdirected as we crossed Sacramento County when we were supposed to be going south, was smooth sailing as we caught up on each other’s lives and the latest in both of our family’s cases.

My first time doing a KlaasKids Print-a-thon was in Patterson nearly a year ago – the October right after we found Michelle. At that time, I was adjusting to a new normal as I started involving myself with the organization that helped find her. That October, I promised myself, Michelle and KlaasKids that I would be involved with this team for the rest of my life.

It was a strong commitment to make, to say the least. Recently, with the trial coming up, I have been reflecting on this new normal that I’ve made and how rapidly and dramatically my lifestyle, hobbies and attitude have changed as a direct result of her death.

I have always believed in optimism – making and seeing things better and brighter. Michelle’s murder presented what was possibly the most challenging situation to be optimistic about; it was senseless, cold, brutal violence that gashed into our lives and made us realize how dark and evil human nature really can be. We, as a society, see robberies and crimes every day on the news, hear about weird zombie cannibals on bath salts, maybe mingled briefly with others who have faced tragedies of their own – but until you taste the same sense of bitter anger, confusion, hopelessness and desperation for answers, you feel shielded from all the world’s woes.

Then there are families who are brave enough to hear about the world’s woes, and not only acknowledge, but face the fact that they should be preventative about protecting their children. Not by avoiding, but embracing, the conversation about child safety.

Danielle, Marc, Violet and I headed to the Patterson festival ready to meet and help those families.

Also joining KlaasKids was Tabitha Cardenas, who lost her own 4-year-old son in early 2011 in Patterson. I had a chance to meet Tabitha last October; she is truly a strong woman with a beautiful smile that seems to defy all that happened to her and her young boy.

At print-a-thons, there is no darkness. Parents line up with their little ones whose ages range from a couple months old to 18 years old, ready to get them fingerprinted and ID-ed. We meet children and teens of all sorts of personalities – from super hyper to rebellious to autistic or with a mental disability – but all children have the same thing in common. They are all lovely, young and trusting – all with the potential to be lost or kidnapped.

These parents wait in line to do one of the best things they could do for their children – prepare to talk to them about child safety. They watch proudly as their child gets fingerprinted and laugh as their sons and daughters smile broadly at our camera. They know that it’s better to be safe than sorry, that the conversation about child safety isn’t something to avoid – that it could be fun and educational.

At the end of the day, we fingerprinted over 260 kids and met dozens of families and parents in the sweltering heat of Patterson. Over 260 kids went home with their bio sheets, safety tips and DNA kits. Hopefully, over 260 kids will have the conversation with their parents about child safety and crisis prevention.

I left the print-a-thon with a spoonful more optimism.

KlaasKids’ print-a-thons have historically helped over a million children. We can only hope our families’ stories helped 260 kids at Patterson; heck, we’d be happy if our families’ stories helped even one more family out there.

A year ago, I was in a dark place. Now I find myself in love with our organization, our searches and the volunteer heroes that we get to interact with on a daily basis. If the abductors, kidnappers and murderers expected our families to back down and whimper at our losses, I hope they know that our optimism overpowers whatever power they think they have. That our loved ones’ legacies far outweigh their pitiful, rotten existences.

Now that’s looking on the bright side of things.

As Danielle and I head back to the East Bay, the temperature drops to a thankfully cooler 88 degrees. The sun is shining brilliantly as we wish those 260 kids the happiest – and safest – futures that they could have.

Posted in KlaasKids Foundation, Krystine Dinh, Michelle Le, Print-A-Thon, Sierra LaMar, Uncategorized | Tagged | 2 Comments on The Glass Half Full and Child Safety

One Year Later – Where’s Lauren?

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Lauren Spierer

A year ago today, 20-year-old Indiana student Lauren Spierer went missing shortly before dawn. She was last seen walking home alone after a night out with friends, clearly intoxicated, barefoot and without her cell phone at 4:30am. Her friend saw her reach the corner of his street, and that’s the last that anyone has seen of the young student.

 

Lauren’s story captured national headlines quickly. She reminds many of their own daughter, sister, friend; Lauren is young, beautiful, loves apparel and fashion, and was simply enjoying life like many other young 20 somethings do. Fortunately, most people and families aren’t touched by the tragedy that Lauren and her family are enduring every day. But for the Spierer’s, today marks an unbearable 365 days.


Living with the unknown for a year is truly unimaginable. Your emotions are suspended in limbo; how do you progress forward without moving on? Your heart, mind and memories are attached to a happier, sturdier past, where life was still normal and you didn’t have pained questions that bear you no answers.You grasp to quirky details of how your loved one laughs, or talks, or gives you a hug. There is still a chance, you say, of them walking through your door safe. Alive.

 

During a search, time is an impossible concept. It flies swiftly by, leaving you wondering how so many days passed when every minute seems to drag on. When are you allowed to grieve? Do you go back to work? Do you strive to get your life back to normal even though your entire being wants to be out searching for them? I remember feeling guilty for laughing, sleeping or relaxing, knowing that my loved one may be out there struggling to survive. Unless every decision and action I made contributed to her search; I lived and breathed it. How do the Spierers make it through 365 days of that?

Father Robert, Sister Rebecca,and Mother Charlene Spierer

Oh, and all the scenarios that your imagination wanders through are torturous. Smoke and mirrors. What if they’re locked up somewhere, held captive? What if they were sold to a sex trade, being trafficked in Mexico? How much money should we start saving for any psychiatric or physical recovery? What if… what if we tried hard enough, passed out enough fliers, conducted enough searches, raised enough reward money, got in front of enough cameras, that someone out there will finally give us an answer? Or better yet, if we just tried hard enough, will someone out there finally have the decency to give her back to us?

 

But out of all the stories that you tell yourself, not one of them includes your loved one being dead. Not one. It doesn’t matter the statistics and slim chances, the accusations, charges and arrests – until there is solid, tangible evidence that your loved one is gone, there is always positivity. There is always hope. Hope is the only lifeboat you have when you suddenly find yourself drowning in the life you were thrown into.

 


For Lauren’s family, my heart aches for them as they seek the truth of what happened to their loved one. All of Lauren’s friends are accused of being too silent. Why would they let her walk home alone at that hour without shoes and a phone? Do her friends really know more than they are letting on? They all got lawyered up pretty quickly. Is she out there trying to find her way back home?

 

There is simply nothing fair in knowing that someone out there secretly knows more about Lauren’s whereabouts than her family does. It baffles me how her abductor’s conscience hasn’t budged since June of 2011; it’s monstrous.

 

Lauren Spierer is 4’11″, petite at 95 lbs with blonde hair and blue eyes. She was last seen wearing black pants and a white top. For more information about Lauren and her search, please visit www.findlauren.com.

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I Am Losing My Best Friend

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 By Brad Dennis

Jerry Dennis and granddaughter Taylor Dennis

Jerry Dennis and granddaughter Taylor Dennis

For years the relationship between my Dad and I were strained. Memories of a childhood filled with selfishness and alcoholism far exceeded memories of a Dad playing catch with me. As an adult our friendship blossomed. We reconnected in ways I had only read about and once longed for.

 

My Dad passed onto me his love of golf, Carolina basketball and the New York Yankees. Ours was a relationship built on sports and the way two men can get themselves lost in these conversations. As I grew older and he grew sicker I realized there were more important traits that he shared with me. You see, he has an insatiable drive…anything he ever set his mind to do, he did. His quiet strength and fortitude forged strong friendships with others. His dogged determination in his relationships with his friends had him going out of the way on numerous occasions to help them.

 

I have lost other friends, I have witnessed tragedies, and I have been with numerous families at the worst times of their lives and because of these instances I thought I knew grief. The grief I did not know has washed over me in waves. First as we sat and listened to my dad tell us he was ready to go, and now as I sit and watch him wither away into a shell of the man I love. I now know grief.

 

His breaths are more labored, the memories of him come like a flood. There are the memories of him coaching my Little League baseball team, teaching me to play golf, the arguments and the love. Memories of him answering my call for help as my High School date and I got stuck in a ditch. I remember he pulled up, got out the jack, jacked up the back wheel and then slammed the car off the jack and back onto traction. He walked over to me and winked and then said, “Son, you need to get this young lady home to her family.” Nothing else has EVER been said about that night. He was the one I ran to during a marriage crisis He is the one that gave my wife her first real “dad” relationship. For all of these memories I am thankful.

 

I know that most of us hope to bury our parents and not the other way around. I know that what is happening is the circle of life. I know that his decision to accept Jesus Christ into his life brings to life the scripture, “absent from body means present with the Lord.” And even though I know all of these things…right now, I know grief more.

 

Memories will sustain us in these times. To my friends, expect to see me on the golf course more, as I walk the fairways or line up my next putt, know that I’m playing so that I can reconnect with my caddy – my Dad.

 

Brad’s father Jerry Dennis passed quietly this morning. Please keep the Dennis family in your thoughts and prayers. MK

 

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Sierra LaMar: Anatomy of a Search Day 20

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Milestones

By Krystine Dinh

Sierra’s search center was buzzing.

Today was productive. Though it has almost been a month since Sierra’s disappearance, over 300 volunteers came ready to search. Brian, armed with new search assignments, successfully dispatched 34 search teams to Morgan Hill. It was a cold day, but the sun shined bright. If Sierra’s nearby, I thought, at least it isn’t raining.

Today may have been productive, but not easy. The month milestone is approaching in two days. That means 31 days of unanswered prayers. 31 days without Sierra: A month too long.

We are people of milestones. Together, we celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, engagements, weddings, promotions, graduations. Then there are those who are tied together by milestones of a darker kind – deaths, tragedies, kidnappings, murders, abductions. Dates forever branded in your memory. For Polly’s family:  October 1st. Our family: May 27th. Now, Sierra’s family: March 16th.

At points throughout the day today, I found myself angry – disgusted at the monsters that have imposed those dates upon us. Those days will never just pass by without notice. For Sierra’s family, March 16th will never be just another day.

One reporter said to me, “I heard there were over eight families here who have gone through a similar situation. Can you tell me about them?” I was almost paralyzed by that question – where do I start? We are connected by milestones of tragedy – ragged, pained threads that bind us together. Given the choice, we would have much rather lived in ignorance – our families untouched and our loved ones unharmed. But, here we are.

As the month milestone approaches, I pray for all the strength in the world for Marlene, Steve, Danielle, Rick, Ashley, Connie, Keith, Sierra’s cat Chester, and the rest of her family, so they may find solace in each other on Monday the 16th. I pray for persistence and leadership for the volunteers so they may continue their efforts as time continues. I pray for safety for our search teams.

I pray for Sierra – for her life, her warmth and her safety.  I pray that one day we will celebrate another milestone – the day she returns home to her family.

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Sierra LaMar: Anatomy of a Search Day 6

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On the Other Side

 

This routine is familiar. I woke up at 6AM, prepared to make a long drive to a search center that promises an even longer day. Media trucks are parked outside, but our family is not the one they’re looking to hound now. A long line forms outside with volunteers eager to help. Most are not familiar faces, but their presence is calming. The emotions that come with every search are difficult for me to comprehend – filled with anxiety, but unbeatable hope, exhaustion but perseverance. But this time, I’m on the other side. I’m a volunteer – one of the many- simply looking to make even an ounce of difference in the effort to bring Sierra home.
 “Whatever it takes”, I tell myself – the same phrase I repeated in my head over and over when Michelle went missing last May.
 The first time I met Sierra’s family, I was speechless. What is there to say that would suffice? They are facing a nightmare every minute of the day; they wake up each morning wondering where Sierra is and every night hoping Sierra is alive, fed, safe, warm, trying to find her way back. And on top of all of that, they have to use whatever brain power they have left to coordinate a national effort to bring Sierra home.  I came to the LaMars’ searches knowing that it has only been six months since I faced the same emotions, fought with the same demons – hoping that I would be strong enough now to help others be strong.
 And now I remember. I remember that searches give you an acute sense of how many compassionate people exist – their hearts big enough to give love to people they have never met.
 It amazes me every time. Today, more than 650 volunteers of all ages to came to Morgan Hill to help search, flier and promote fundraising efforts. 70 search teams were dispatched, extending the search radius to 20 miles from Sierra’s home.  Teenagers helped make signs and tie bows. Restaurants, grocery stores donated large amounts of food and water. The most passionate volunteers found themselves in significant roles within the Search for Sierra – whether that be making phone calls or braving poison oak as searchers.
 At searches, everyone is working toward something much, much bigger than themselves. And despite the ugliness that surrounds Sierra’s disappearance, searches remind you that there remains so much good in the world.
 I am in awe of the community that is pulling together for Sierra. I hope this sends a loud, clear message to the abductors, sex offenders, human traffickers, perpetrators, kidnappers, murderers and rapists – that they will not and cannot take our loved ones without a fight. That, if you take one of ours, we are not staying silent.
 From what I have learned, Sierra is a fighter – always sticking up for her friends, speaking her mind, relentlessly showing her loved ones that she cares for them. So, I pray that her community continues to show up for her the way she would for all of them. Together, we can and will bring Sierra home – whatever it takes.
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