Dear Cheryll,

I couldn’t help but notice the fog this morning as I drove a different route to work this year. I traveled along Route 8, hugging the Ohio River, and felt like I had possibly been transported to October 19, 1971. The fog was likely even more dense then than it was this morning, but I wondered if whoever you were with that morning found their vehicle as enveloped in the fog as mine was during my morning commute. While those thoughts made me feel close to you, I felt a bitter chill come over me too. I STILL have trouble wrapping my mind around the vision of you being driven to that creek on New Hope Road in the dark, October fog. The fact that no one has been held to account for that still makes me very angry. Today’s fog seems a fitting metaphor for the truth being elusive all of these years.

When I started delving into your story and your unsolved case, I had a 9-year-old daughter. She is now 17. I remember thinking on her 10th birthday that she would always be older than you and here she is, working, having a fun social life, and applying to college. Of course, I am proud of her and excited for her, but when I reflect on your life I think of how cruelly you were cheated of all that could have been. I am convinced that there are people still living who know what happened to you on that morning 55 years ago and wonder if they are rotting on the inside knowing that they have helped conceal the truth for so long. I pray that they release that coiled up, snake-like thread of truth buried in their chest so that you can finally rest in peace and so that your loved ones can also work to let go of the tragic part of your life in order to more fully celebrate the goodness you brought to others.

There has been a rapid turnaround in the detectives’ office. While they are interested in solving your case, I’m not sure they have that fiery passion to dig for answers like your army of supporters have. I will keep pressing and I will keep advocating. No one has given up and no one has forgotten you. I’ve taken time today to speak your name, say some prayers, feel the sunshine on my face, admire the colorful leaves, and talk to you. Your story has also helped to inspire my friend, Bridget. She went back to school to get a degree in Criminology, Psychology, and Sociology. She’s even started her own private investigator business. You have helped shape the lives of others’ who want to work for the good. I’ve come to see that these off-shoots of stories are all a part of what your legacy is showing itself to be.

Happy heavenly birthday, Cheryll. You are not forgotten.

Dear Tom,

This is the 21st time we’ve remembered you on your birthday when you were not with us. You’ve been on my mind a lot lately as my youngest son continues to grow into a young man. He is fascinated with cars– the engines, the makes and models, how they work, etc. and he so wants to rebuild your truck with Micheal. I just mentioned to someone the other day that I wish you were here to do all the tinkering on cars with him. You both would have gotten a kick out of each other. At times it feels like you’ve been gone for so long, but then I think of you like I just saw you yesterday. Time is truly an odd concept. I hope you and Cheryll continue to connect in heaven to help move the pieces and inspire the people who need it in order to close this story. You too are missed and also are not forgotten.

Happy heavenly birthday, Tom.

If you have any information about the unsolved murder of Cheryll Spegal, please call the Kentucky State Police, Post 6 at 859-428-1212.