1997

There was nothing extraordinary about that Monday morning five years ago today

The Super Bowl was played the day before. It was school and work as usual for the people of Atlanta.

But the baby-sitter for little MacKenzie Butts sensed something was wrong. Gerri Faye Butts hadn't brought the three-year-old over before she left for her job at Stanco. So she called Gerri's brother, and they went to the Butts' trailer on Walnut St. to try and rouse the mother, MacKenzie and 11-year old Jessica.

What was discovered in that mobile home that rainy, chilly morning is forever etched in Atlanta history. The girls were all there. Gerri dead on the couch in the living room; Jessica Nicole on the bed, the telephone cord wrapped around her pre-teen neck; and baby MacKenzie Dawn, floating face down in bathtub water.

All lifeless.

All murdered by someone's bare hands.

All dead.

There is, of course, misfortune in any premature death, but even as the national media continues to salivate over the cases of the Ramsey girl in Colorado or Ennis Cosby -- let's not forget the tragedy that happened on our doorsteps, in our neighborhood, five years ago today.

Let's not forget the single mother of two, maybe not a saint, but certainly not deserving to die with someone's knee on her
chest, their hands around her neck. Her face forced into a pillow?

Let's not forget the fifth-grader with the phone cord around her neck. Was she calling for help? Atlanta didn't have 9-1-1 service then. Would it have saved lives? Jessica would be 16 now -- in what, the 10th grade? Maybe she'd be playing for the first place Queen City Lady Bulldog basketball team. She had played basketball on Saturday before she died. Maybe she'd be getting ready to go on that first date. Maybe the prom? Maybe she would be learning to drive, her mother letting her slip behind the wheel in the grocery store parking lot or out in the country.

Lets not forget MacKenzie Dawn. Fully clothed but viciously shoved into the tub water. Did she cry out? Did she think it was a game? How delightful would she be today? A first-grader perhaps, grasping at the wonderment of knowledge -- something new every day.

Is there any chance that these murders will be solved?

Does the evidence grow cold as the seasons change from winter to spring to summer to fall and back again? And again. And again.

Five years. More than 1,825 days.

Days with a killer, or killers, among us. Is he, or she, working beside you? Is the killer in line ahead of you at the grocery
store? Is the killer someone you know? Are you sure?

Someone knows something.

The killer knows who he is. Has he lived with this secret for five years without telling another living soul? Can he stand it?
Does he sleep well at night? Does he have nightmares? Does he have to drink, or shoot, or snort something to help forget the
horror of a little baby's head struggling to stay above the water that would sap it of life?

Did he tell a friend? A relative? A cell mate? A girlfriend? Has he done it again? Has he thought about it? Could he?

Sure there's a reward offered by the Cass County's District Attorney's Office, but is $5,000 enough to make a friend or relative
squeal? Obviously not. It hasn't been for years.

Would $10,000 do it? $50,000? $100,000?

Who determines how much three lives are worth?

The killer didn't think they were worth much. He was able to put his hands on them and snatch their breath away.

Who killed the Butts family?

Some animal. Human in appearance, but without a heart. Without a soul. But he's smart. He got away with it.

Law enforcement, unless they get a gift-wrapped package with a confession in it, is probably not going to solve these crimes.
The trail is cold. Memories fade. People forget.
But we can not.

That is why every year on Jan. 27, friends and family of the slain trio light candles, say a prayer, and take a walk.

They stand in front of the trailer where the three were found and pray again.

Pray for justice.

Pray for the souls of Gerri Faye, Jessica Nicole, and MacKenzie Dawn.

Pray for the killer? Certainly.

He, too, will have to answer someday to a higher court than those conceived by man on Earth.

God knows who killed the Butts.

Remember that, murderer. Remember that.

Sonny