So… turns out that I did kinda sorta maybe break the story about the cops renewing the search for the body of Etan Patz, who disappeared while walking to his bus stop 33 years ago in SoHo, New York.
Of course, the first information I heard wasn’t entirely correct –– as far as we know, no one has confessed to the crime per se, but the latest is that cadaver dogs have responded in a way that make the police think that there may be remains in the basement of what used to be a gay/lesbian art gallery (?!) The scene right now is mobbed –– tourists clutching “Un Grand Week-End!” books, local ACE staff members, the chefs at the Calexico truck, the news crews for almost every major news station in New York, and little me, dashing out every so often to stand in the sun and try to get a glimpse of the action (this stance incites in me both great excitement and deep self-loathing.) Updates are coming in by the hour. It has been very difficult, in case you’re wondering, for anyone around my office to concentrate.
It’s important to note the language used by the FBI’s talking heads on Times website. In two separate statements, they stress that time is not a factor here, meaning they will continue to work however long until they get some definitive answers. I’m beginning to wonder what the scene will look like tomorrow, and the day after, and the days following. Will lay people continue to stand vigil at the barricades, or will they succumb to boredom? If nothing is found, it will resort to being an innocuous SoHo warehouse that now is home to one outpost of Lucky Jeans. (Not so lucky anymore?) If something is found, will it become the locus of grief? In less than a day’s time, a simple basement, to which likely no one gave thought before, has started to morphically resonate, to quote Laing.
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