TEN

The shift to the notion that Carole, Juli, and Silvina had been the victims of a crime necessitated two other considerations, as well.

The first was: what sort of person might the criminal be? Was he or she, for example, intimately familiar with the park and the El Portal area—in other words, a local? Or would the criminal be someone who had merely been passing through the park, and who had seized an opportunity to take advantage of someone who was vulnerable? If the latter were the case, how did the perpetrator get to the area? Did they leave their own vehicle and come back later? Or was there more than one person involved—someone who helped the kidnapper/carjacker/robber/whatever by picking them up once the deed was done?

Or finally, did the possible crime have anything to do with El Portal or the park at all? Had the whole thing taken place somewhere between Mariposa and Merced, or in Merced itself?

There were simply too many imponderables, and not enough facts.

But operating on the nearly always valid assumption that the best place to start anything was at the beginning, the FBI team under Maddock opened two separate investigative tracks during the last week of February: while a new and highly vigorous search was being conducted for the car, in or out of the park, and on the roads to and from it, for anyplace where a late-model vehicle might be hidden, a second focus was brought to bear on what so far seemed to be the epicenter of the event, whatever it was: Cedar Lodge at El Portal, which was the last place anyone had ever seen Carole, Juli, or Silvina alive. It was always best to start at the beginning and work outward, and for this reason Mariposa deputy sheriffs and FBI agents teamed up and began interviewing the Cedar Lodge staff, looking for anything that might generate a lead, and almost as important, evaluating those who had been nearest to the presumed victims when they were last seen.

There were three roads leading into and out of the park: Highway 41, which entered the park from the south, direct from Fresno; Highway 140, which came in from the west via Mariposa and El Portal; and Highway 120, which entered the park on the northwest and wound over the rim of the Sierras to Tioga Pass (Ten-ie-ya’s objective before his capture by Jim Savage), which in turn emptied down the eastern escarpment of the mountains to Mono Lake, not far from the Nevada state line. But the eastern portion of Highway 120 that led to Tioga Pass was closed in winter because of snow buildup; and if Carole had indeed driven the car away from El Portal, it hardly seemed likely that she would take Highway 41 toward Fresno, when their appointment was in Stockton, so many miles in the other direction.

Although it appeared that Carole had planned to drive to Stockton on Tuesday, February 16, by way of Highway 140, information soon came from a park ranger that suggested that Carole and the girls might have decided to take Highway 120 instead.

The ranger, one of the myriad park workers and others questioned on Monday and Tuesday after the FBI came into the case, recalled talking with three women in a red car Tuesday morning, February 16; the trio had asked directions to Tuolumne Grove, a stand of large trees on the western edge of the park accessible only by Highway 120.

That highway climbs up the northern rim of Yosemite Valley, rising rapidly to more than a mile in elevation before reaching Crane Flat, a broad area overlooking the valley and an area called Big Meadow; the Tuolumne Grove was nearby—as were fueling facilities, which might have been an attraction to Carole, since the only other gas station within miles was in El Portal.

From Crane Flat and Tuolumne Grove it was less than five miles to the northwest entrance to the Park at Big Oak Flat. From there, Carole and the girls could have continued west on Highway 120 through Buck Meadows and Groveland, two hamlets on the way to Modesto, before turning north on Highway 99 for the final run into Stockton.

The weather conditions, combined with the twists and turns of Highway 120, raised the possibility once more of a possible accident.

Further interviews seemed to indicate that others may have seen the car at Tuolumne Grove that Tuesday afternoon, and possibly at Buck Meadows later the same day.

“We have what we believe is credible information that they wanted to see the Tuolumne Grove of Big Trees,” Maddock said, “and they asked directions on how to get to that part of the park.” And the additional sighting at the grove that afternoon also appeared to be credible, Maddock added.

“What we are asking for is public assistance,” Maddock said. “We would like anyone in Yosemite last Tuesday, especially anyone in the grove of Big Trees, to call the FBI.”

Did that mean the FBI had returned to the theory of a simple accident? Or was the FBI still considering the case a possible kidnapping?

“There’s a possibility they were kidnapped,” Maddock said, “but there’s been no ransom demand.”

How long would the FBI stay with the case, in the absence of any substantial indication of what had happened?

“We’re going to stay in this investigation,” he said, “until we find the car or we find the victims or until we’ve exhausted every lead.”

*   *   *

Even as the FBI and others stepped up their efforts along Highway 120, the Sund/Carrington family had moved into Modesto in full force. Using cellular phones, the dozen or so Sunds, Carringtons, and their friends combed the area of Modesto where Carole’s wallet had been found, posting flyers about the reward and trying desperately to come up with some sort of lead. Jens’s brother Ken Sund arrived and took charge. Soon the hotel had set aside a room for the hotline, and streams of volunteers from Modesto were coming in to answer the phones. The Polly Klass Foundation—formed by the family of the 13-year-old northern California girl who had been kidnapped and murdered several years earlier—stepped in with its own assistance, both with posting flyers and with helping the Sunds and Carringtons cope with the increasingly emotional situation.

The Wednesday he had first reported his wife, daughter, and Silvina missing, Jens told reporters, he’d had to make the “hardest call of my life.” He’d telephoned Raquel Pelosso in Argentina to tell her that Silvina was lost.

Raquel had almost immediately taken a plane to California. By the Sunday after Carole’s wallet had been found, Raquel had arrived in Modesto; that long-promised visit to see Carole in her own country had finally been made; only Carole wasn’t there to greet her. Instead, the following day, Raquel met the media.

“Nothing like this has ever happened to us in Argentina,” Raquel said. “We are not political people. If you know something about where she is, please tell us.”

Two days later, Jose Pelosso, Raquel’s husband and Silvina’s father, also arrived in Modesto; soon the Pelossos were accompanied by representatives from the Argentinian Consulate in Los Angeles; Silvina’s mysterious disappearance at the doorstep to one of the USA’s most storied natural settings had become a national fixation in Argentina, leading the papers and the television broadcasts every day. The disappearance of three tourists in a land of enchantment had become international news.