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SHAWNA'S STORY
A white mother, a black father, a beautiful
baby girl.Twenty six years later, an innocent victim of racism comes face-to-face
with the woman who abandoned her shortly after birth.
By
Tom Grant
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(Some names have been changed to protect identities)
"Hello. Is anybody there?" I called out as I knocked on the old weathered door of the isolated little ranch house. A drama was about to unfold--a real life drama that would permanently affect the lives of several people.
"This was a tough one," I thought to myself.
Earlier in the day a friendly mailman gladly waved directions from the doorway of his one room U.S. Post Office. Pointing north, he described landmarks along the highway.
The property had no street number. Addresses apparently were not necessary in this neck of the woods. Two miles off the main highway, the house was located at the end of a long dirt road that weaved it's way through the surrounding hills, crossing a riverbed with enough rushing water to intimidate any car with short legs. An occasional utility pole scarred the otherwise virgin landscape, providing evidence of civilization somewhere ahead. The poles indicated that those at the end of the line probably had electricity, but they didn't have to worry about choosing a long distance telephone carrier. There were no phone lines.
A station wagon and pick-up truck were parked nearby. Bicycles and toys scattered about in the large dirt yard declared, "Kids live here!" This was a school day though, so I wasn't surprised that there were none to be seen or heard.
I knocked again. "Hello, is anybody here?"
Still no answer.
Water rippled across moss covered rocks in a nearby stream and narrow trails led from the yard into tree-blanketed hills surrounding the property. I checked the storage shed, horse corrals and outside bathroom facilities.
"Hello, is anyone here?" I continued to call out as I explored the rustic real estate.
I'd been told by the postman that Doris would probably be at the house, so I decided to wait. I thought she might be out hiking or horseback riding on one of those trails. Wherever she was, I hoped she'd be back soon.
Sitting in my rental car, I reflected on the journey about to be concluded. When it began, I never would have guessed it would lead me to a small one store town in northern New Mexico. And this house! It couldn't have been more remote!
A short time later, I was about to give up and go back to town, when I noticed a small gray dog standing on the porch. This was strange! Where was the dog earlier when I knocked on the door? Where was the dog when I surveyed the property calling out to get someone's attention?
I walked toward the house for a closer look. The scruffy little security guard stood his post, barking his head off while glancing at the screen door every few seconds. I had an eerie feeling someone was standing just inside that door.
"Hello, is anyone there?" I called again. No one answered. If Doris was home, she obviously didn't want me to know it.
I decided to drive back to town where my client, Shawna, was waiting at a small cafe. We had decided it would be best for me to talk to Doris alone at first. If she didn't want to meet Shawna, or if this was a bad time for any reason, we weren't going to put her on the spot or force her to do something that she might not want to do. Now we needed to discuss a change in strategy. There was still plenty of time to complete our mission.
"I want to find my mother," Shawna told me when she first called my office in July of 1993. "I've been trying to find her on my own for about six months, but I don't know what else to do."
I suggested she come to the office so we could discuss her case and determine how to proceed with the search.
The following day Shawna walked into my Los Angeles office. She was tall and thin. The features of her fashion model face were framed by hundreds of long braided strands of black hair. Her appearance was striking. Her personality revealing. She sat across from my desk and told her story.
Shawna's mother, Doris, was white. Her father, Harold, was black. They married in March of 1966. Shawna was born a year and a half later. Her parents separated soon after her birth, and later divorced. According to the divorce papers, her mother originally tried to get custody of her, but for some unknown reason she gave up the effort and allowed Shawna's father to keep her. Her father died several years ago. Now, at 26 years of age, Shawna had not seen or heard from her mother since she was a baby.
Shawna obtained copies of her mother's and father's marriage certificate, her mother's birth certificate, and her own birth certificate.
Using the information contained in the documents, she managed to locate her mother's aunt in Southern California. Prior to her first contact with me, Shawna had called her mother's aunt and asked if she knew where Doris lived. The aunt was unfriendly and not at all sympathetic to Shawna's plight.
"I don't even know a person by the name of Doris. You're wasting your time," she scolded Shawna over the phone. "Sometimes these things are best left alone."
Her attitude and comments indicated she knew more than she was willing to tell.
"I think my mother's family might be prejudiced," Shawna told me. "They probably don't want me in the family because I'm half black. But I don't care," she explained, trying to shield her true feelings. "I just want to meet my mother. I want to see what she's like. If she doesn't want to know me, that's fine. At least then I can go on with my life."
Pausing for a moment, Shawna continued, "I'd like to find out what happened... why she hasn't tried to find me. Maybe she has tried! She couldn't be prejudiced or she wouldn't have married my father. Maybe she wants to find me as much as I want to find her!"
Shawna seemed to be a strong, assertive, and independent young woman. There was no display of sentiment or emotion when she spoke of her past and the need to find the woman who had given her life. With her head tilted down, her big brown eyes pierced upward through fallen strands of braided hair and locked onto mine.
"Don't tell me you're going to find her if you don't think you can," she ordered.
Although somewhat abrasive, her attitude was certainly understandable. She'd talked to other P.I.s and didn't feel she could trust them. I sensed she had
trouble trusting anyone. Who could blame her?
This could turn out to be a difficult case. Women are much harder to locate than men. A woman may have several name changes through divorce and re-marriage. After twenty-six years, Doris could be living in any state, or any country for that matter. But with the information Shawna provided, I was confident I would eventually find her mother.
I asked Shawna to write a letter to her mother. I'd keep this letter with me and if necessary, I'd use it as an ice breaker when I made contact. I suggested she write about what's happened in her life and include some personal thoughts about why she's trying to find her mother.
A couple of days later her letter arrived in my office mail. It read, in part, as follows;
Dear Doris,
My name is Shawna. I was born June 27, 1967 to yourself and Harold... I grew up in Texas where I lived with my Grandmother, Nellie, until about age 5. She is a very kindhearted lady.... She will be 91 years old in a few months.
From then until the age of 17 I lived with my father's niece, and her husband... After graduating from high school, I moved to Los Angeles to live with my father and attend college. My father died in 1989 after a terrible illness..
For whatever reason, you and my father decided to go your separate ways. He never explained why and I never asked him. In any event that was many years ago.
...I feel compelled to meet you. It would make me very, very happy. I would indeed respect your privacy and be most discreet as I do not know your situation. I do not know if your family knows about me. I certainly do not wish you any distress.
I would like... to see you. It has been such a long time. You are my mother. I know you will understand.
Shawna
I located the address of Shawna's grandparents within the next few days. They were still living in the Los Angeles area. I didn't want to interview them until I found out whether or not they knew about Shawna. For now I'd just drive by their house and try to take some pictures.
I got lucky. Shawna's grandfather was working outside in the yard. I shot several good photographs.
I called Shawna and told her I'd located her grandparents and had photographs to show her. She was surprised. She knew they'd be in their seventies by now and she thought they might have passed away. The next day Shawna came to my office.
"That's my Grandpa!" she whispered with a hint of a smile as she examined the photos I'd taken. "I've got his nose and ears. . . and he's tall like me!" she added as a final confirmation. The other half of her biological identity was finally taking form.
The aunt Shawna had previously contacted was very hostile when I showed up at her door a few days later. "I think it's horrible that you're helping this person find her mother after so many years have gone by!" she grumbled.
After several conflicting statements about her relationship to Shawna's mother, the aunt finally told me that she had informed the grandparents about Shawna's phone call to her a few weeks earlier. Now I knew I could contact the grandparents without exposing a "family secret."
I drove straight over to the grandparent's house. Shawna's grandmother answered the door. I introduced myself and explained why I was there. She was very cordial and didn't seem at all surprised by my visit. It was apparent that Shawna's aunt had called and informed the grandmother I was on my way.
Two cars were parked in the driveway but Shawna's grandmother said her husband wasn't home. I had a feeling he was there but he didn't want to deal with this right now.
I asked her if she knew where Doris, (her daughter) was living. "I haven't seen or heard from Doris since she was about twenty-one years old," she answered. "No one in the family has had any contact with her. I don't even know if she's still alive," she added with no sign of emotion.
During our conversation, Shawna's grandmother told me she didn't want Shawna to contact her. "l think she ought to just drop this whole thing," she advised. "Sometimes people are better off not knowing."
When Shawna and I discussed this conversation later, we had our doubts about her grandmother's sincerity. This couple had been married for over fifty years! They had five daughters, and still lived in the same house where they raised their family. It didn't seem likely that they hadn't seen or heard from one of their daughters in over 28 years!
If this was a deliberate deception, did it mean Doris was aware of our search and had instructed her parents to mislead us? Or was the grandmother acting on her own, without Doris's knowledge?
So many questions needed answering.
Why did Doris give custody to Shawna's father?
Did Doris's parents pressure her to give up the baby?
Are there racists in her mother's family?
At this point, we could only speculate.
On November 21st, the search for Doris suddenly got hot. My investigation revealed she was living in a small town in Northern New Mexico. She had no telephone and her only address was a post office box. I was sure, however, that I could find Doris if we flew to Albuquerque, rented a car for the drive north and talked to some of the locals in town.
I called Shawna, told her what I'd learned, and I asked her to book us on the first flight to Albuquerque the next day.
Arriving in Albuquerque at 9:30 AM the next morning, we rented a car and began driving north. Shawna seemed anxious and complained her stomach hurt.
"I called my Grandma Nellie last night," Shawna told me during the drive into town. "She said she had prayed for me and she knew everything would work out all right."
When we first arrived in town, I decided to leave Shawna in a small cafe while I searched for the house alone. If I saw her mother, I would make the initial approach, then come back for Shawna if her mother agreed to the reunion.
Now, back at the cafe where I'd left Shawna, I told her what happened once I located her mother's house. We discussed the possibility that Doris might have been alerted that I was looking for her. It was a small town and I had already asked directions from several of it's residents.
The people at the cafe seemed to be getting curious about who Shawna was and why she had been waiting there so long. Strangers stand out in tiny towns like this, so I knew I couldn't leave her alone any longer. We stayed just long enough to formulate a plan to determine if Doris was home. Shawna would go with me to watch the house. If the kids came home from school, we'd know Doris was either there, or she'd be home soon. She wouldn't leave the children alone for long. If the kids stayed inside, we'd know Doris was probably in the house. This property was a kid's paradise. Unless they were told to stay inside, the kids would go out to play. The yard would demand it.
We'd have to assume Doris was not at the house if the children didn't come home from school. If she did know of our presence in town and she was trying to avoid us, she might just pick the kids up from school and take them to another location, in which case they may not be coming home this evening or until Doris felt we had left town.
If and when we located Doris, Shawna and I would separate. I'd go talk to Doris alone and evaluate the situation. If Doris was receptive and interested in meeting her daughter, I'd let her know Shawna was nearby and I'd offer to bring her to the house so they could meet.
If she was not receptive, I wouldn't mention Shawna had come with me on the trip. I'd get as much information from her as she'd allow, then I'd pick Shawna up and we'd go back to Los Angeles. Later we'd write to Doris and try to persuade her to meet with Shawna sometime in the future.
We agreed on the plan and headed for the ranch house where we parked about three hundred yards away. The car was in plain view. If Doris was home, she would be able to see the car but we were too far away for her to see that anyone was with me. Slouched in the front seat, Shawna complained again of an upset stomach. Nerves were taking their toll.
At 4:15 a school bus dropped off four children at the cattle gate blocking the dirt driveway leading to Doris's house. I got out of the car and stood near the front bumper looking through binoculars.
The children, two boys and two girls, walked to the house and went inside. A minute or so later they came out to play. Then a slender blond hair woman dressed in a red sweat outfit and tennis shoes, stepped onto the porch and looked down the road in our direction.
Doris was home!
"There she is," I announced. "There's your mom! She's on the porch."
"No!... Are you sure?" Shawna moaned.
"That's her," I replied.
I don't believe it!" she gasped. "Oh Tom ... I don't believe it!"
Shawna got out and waited by the nearby stream while I went to talk to her mother as we had planned. "Hurry Tom. Don't take too long," she pleaded.
Doris went inside the house when I pulled into the driveway. The kids surrounded my car as I got out with a friendly smile on my face. I noticed Doris watching curiously through a window at the side of the house. A few seconds later she walked out onto the porch.
"Hi Doris," I said.
"Who are you?" she inquired.
I gave her my business card and told her I was a private investigator from Los Angeles.
"Can we talk in private for a few minutes... away from the kids?" I asked politely.
Doris ushered the children into the house.
"Do you know what this is about?" I inquired when she returned. "I have no idea!" she replied.
"Shawna," I said softly in case the kids were eavesdropping.
"Oh!... OK!" Doris gasped, then added, "How is she? Is she all right?"
I assured her Shawna was doing fine. I told Doris that Harold had been seriously ill and had died a few years ago. She was saddened by the news of Harold's death.
"Shawna hired me to find you," I informed Doris.
Although somewhat startled, she remained friendly. "Where can we talk? Shall we sit in your car?" she asked, appearing anxious to hear more.
Relieved by her cordial reception, I had a feeling this encounter would go well. As we sat in my car, Doris told me she often thought about Shawna, but had no idea how to find her. Harold had told her they'd be moving to either New York or Puerto Rico after the divorce and she hadn't had the resources to try and find them. She told me she had been married twice since her marriage to Harold ended. Her most recent marriage had taken place just two years ago.
"Does your husband know about Shawna?" I asked.
"I told my husband, but I haven't told the kids yet," she responded.
I wondered about the children. Were they Doris's or her husband's from a previous marriage? Ranging in age from about six to fourteen, it didn't seem likely that she would have children this young. Shawna and I had assumed they were Doris's stepchildren.
"Were those your children, or your husband's?" I asked politely.
"No, they're all mine," she answered. My husband doesn't have any children.
Wait until Shawna finds out! I thought to myself. She's never had any brothers or sisters. Now all of a sudden she has four!
"Will the kids be able to handle this if you told them?" I asked.
"These kids?" she answered. "These kids can handle anything!"
I was elated by her response to my inquiries so far. This was more than Shawna and I had hoped for. Doris had not concealed the fact she had another child. She'd already told her husband about Shawna and she wasn't apprehensive about telling the children. . . Now I wondered about Doris's parents.
"I spoke with your mother a couple of months ago," I told Doris. "She said no one in the family had seen or heard from you since you were about twenty-one."
"Oh... They're all so prejudiced!" Doris replied in a huff. "They were just here a few weeks ago! They've never wanted anything to do with Shawna. In fact, when I tried to keep her, they wouldn't give me shelter or anything. That's why I gave custody to her father."
The puzzle was nearing completion. It was time to let Doris and Shawna finish it together.
"So, you're not upset that Shawna's been trying to find you?" I inquired, somewhat rhetorically.
"0h no!" she answered without hesitation... then added with a sigh, "lf I wasn't so poor..."
"Would you like to meet her?" I asked.
"Oh yes! I believe so," Doris responded sadly, still contemplating her limited assets. She obviously assumed I was referring to a reunion sometime in the future.
"Shawna's right down the road," I injected before she could say anything else.
"My daugh... my daughter's here!" Doris stammered. "Where is she? Down the road?... Where?!"
Clearly delighted, but in a state of shock, Doris was immediately concerned about her appearance and the condition of her house. With a little prodding, she eventually agreed not to worry about house cleaning or her make-up right now.
I went to get Shawna.
While I was gone, Doris brought her children together and told them about Shawna.
I arrived back at the house with Shawna a few minutes later. The kids came running out to meet us. They appeared to be excited about the surprise addition to their family. We got out of the car and walked to the porch.
Doris opened the door and extended both hands towards her grown up daughter. Shawna reached out. They stood in the doorway grasping each other's arms, their eyes glistened with restrained emotion. Without letting go, Doris guided Shawna inside and led her into an adjacent bedroom where they sat down to talk.
The two small girls climbed on the bed next to Shawna, examining their new big sister, touching her hands and playing with her long braided hair. The boys stood in the nearby doorway - their gentle smiling faces expressing approval of the events unfolding before them.
I could only imagine what effect this was having on Shawna. She was prepared for rejection, but instead, she was welcomed, loved and adored.
I leaned into the room and suggested that I go into town for awhile so they could be alone to talk. They agreed and asked me to come back in about an hour. Then we'd all decide what to do for the rest of the evening.
Returning to the house later, I discovered Doris's husband, Joe, had come home from work. After learning about the reunion that had just occurred, Joe volunteered to stay home and watch the kids while Doris, Shawna and I went to the local cafe to spend some time visiting over dinner.
On the way to the cafe, I asked Doris if she cared if the people in town knew about Shawna.
"Oh, I could care less. This is a small town. Everybody knows everybody. But I don't care what people think!" she responded.
Doris spoke candidly in front of the two ladies working in the tiny house trailer restaurant. She talked about her marriage to Shawna's father as well as their divorce. She didn't appear to have anything to hide. I was impressed with her openness. It was a display of self-confidence and independence; character traits I knew Shawna identified with and respected.
Shawna seemed attentive, but stared at her mother as she listened to the voice she'd longed to hear for so long. Her face remained blank and expressionless. Finally she turned to me and said, "I'm just blown away! I can't believe I'm looking at my mother!"
This would be a phrase I'd hear frequently before the evening was over. "I'm blown away too!" Doris added occasionally, approving of her daughter's joy.
Shawna and her mom posed while I took their picture. They held each other with arms wrapped in back and their fingers interlaced in front as if they were afraid someone might try to pull them apart. Later, we talked as we picked away at dinner. No one was really hungry.
I noticed how similar Shawna's personality was to her mother's. Shawna and her mom also saw the similarities and were fascinated that they could be so much alike with virtually no contact since Shawna was born. The biological connection seemed to be alive and well.
Back at the house, we visited for a few more hours. The kids posed proudly as I took pictures of them individually and with Shawna.
It got dark all too soon. An owl sat on a tall pole outside the old house hooting it's approval of the evening's events. It was obviously getting late so we began making preparations to leave. The two small girls hugged Shawna... then turned and gave me a hug too!
Nothing was said.
It wasn't necessary.
The kids stayed in the house with Doris's husband while the three of us walked to the car. I got in and waited while Shawna and her mom stood outside, their sillouettes illuminated by the lights shining from the doorway of the old house behind them. After several minutes, Shawna and her mom began walking arm-in-arm to the house.
"I'm just going to walk her back," Shawna called to me.
When they reached the front porch, they embraced as they talked and cried together; then, they went inside. Shawna came out thirty minutes later!
As we drove away, Shawna apologized for taking so long. She told me her mother was having a hard time saying goodbye. I assured her I wasn't the least bit upset.
"She kept saying how sorry she was. She couldn't stop crying." Shawna said. "I tried to tell her she didn't have to feel sorry. I told her I understood."
Doris had tried to persuade Shawna to stay longer.
"She wouldn't let me go!" Shawna told me. "I promised I'd come back as soon as I could and I told her I'd write her a nice long letter when I get home."
Emotionally exhausted, Shawna curled up on the front seat of the car, using her coat as a blanket.
"Tom, I'm blown away," she mumbled, "I'm just blown away!"
Within minutes she was asleep.
I love this job! I thought to myself.
Headlights lit the dark winding road as we left the small town on our way to Albuquerque. Recalling the elements of the case I was about to close, I tried to imagine what it all meant. The lives of these two women and their families were permanently changed, in fact, I believe, enriched. Their future looked bright, but I couldn't get my mind off the past.
Grandmother, grandfather, aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers, sisters, and, a mother; twenty- six years of relationships, lost forever... simply because a baby's skin tone was half of a shade too dark!
Where was the logic?
Once again I searched for answers... this time, for myself.
It was going to be a long drive.
Contact Tom:
tomgrantpi@yahoo.com
Individual questions cannot
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but comments are
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THE GRANT COMPANY
1305 North H Street, Suite #A144
Lompoc, CA 93436
California State Lic.# 16603
(805) 354-1201
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