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Daniel not come home.
Linda LaPorte stood in the kitchen of her home in Pascoag, R.I., holding her cellphone. Her son's Thai girlfriend was calling from San Diego, speaking a mile a minute in fractured English.
He said call mom if he not come home.
Linda and her husband, Joseph, had called their son just days earlier to wish him a happy 27th birthday. He'd said nothing about traveling anywhere.
Yet here was his girlfriend saying he'd gone to Mexico on business with a guy named Big Daddy. And he hadn't come back.
"What she was trying to convey to me didn't make sense," Linda recalled.
Dozens of American citizens have been kidnapped and killed in Mexico in the last year. They are a small fraction of the 2,500 people, the vast majority of them Mexicans, who have been slain gangland-style. Countless others have been kidnapped for ransom.
Officials on both sides of the border say the American victims are rarely unlucky tourists. Some lived in Mexico and may have known their attackers. Others were businesspeople who crossed the border regularly and were seen as an easy source of cash. Still others were thought to be involved in drugs.
Linda didn't know any of that. All she knew was that Dan was missing.
He was the youngest of the LaPortes' three sons. The other two had married and started families. Dan still hadn't settled down. He was affectionate and fiercely loyal, but had a troublesome temper. He had few ambitions; after graduating from Burrillville High School in 2000, he got a job in a deli.
In the spring of 2005, he followed his boss to San Diego, "looking for something better," Linda recalled.
Dan was working at a restaurant and as a bouncer at clubs -- just to pay the rent, he told his family. His plan, he said, was to open a surfboard factory in Mexico. A 6-foot, 1-inch former high school football player who weighed 290 pounds, he began to take better care of himself. He developed a taste for stir fry and Thai cuisine, started working out vigorously and dropped 100 pounds.
He was finding his way in the world, or so it seemed from 3,000 miles away.
Slow down, Linda told Dan's girlfriend, T.K. Dangalongkon. What's this about Mexico?
Dan had left for the border Feb. 22, a Friday, T.K. said. He'd looked worried and told her that if he wasn't back by 10 p.m., she should call his mother. She'd know what to do.
It was Sunday morning now, and Linda had no idea what to do.
She dialed Dan's Rhode Island cellphone and left a message. She called his California cellphone but couldn't connect.
She drove to the house of one of Dan's closest friends. When was the last time he'd talked to Dan? she asked. Did he have the names or phone numbers of any of Dan's contacts in Mexico? Who's Big Daddy?
Linda went to all his friends, but got no answers. They seemed evasive.
She called T.K. back and sent her to a neighbor, who helped her file a missing-person report with the San Diego Police Department.
Linda LaPorte stood in the kitchen of her home in Pascoag, R.I., holding her cellphone. Her son's Thai girlfriend was calling from San Diego, speaking a mile a minute in fractured English.
He said call mom if he not come home.
Linda and her husband, Joseph, had called their son just days earlier to wish him a happy 27th birthday. He'd said nothing about traveling anywhere.
Yet here was his girlfriend saying he'd gone to Mexico on business with a guy named Big Daddy. And he hadn't come back.
"What she was trying to convey to me didn't make sense," Linda recalled.
Dozens of American citizens have been kidnapped and killed in Mexico in the last year. They are a small fraction of the 2,500 people, the vast majority of them Mexicans, who have been slain gangland-style. Countless others have been kidnapped for ransom.
Officials on both sides of the border say the American victims are rarely unlucky tourists. Some lived in Mexico and may have known their attackers. Others were businesspeople who crossed the border regularly and were seen as an easy source of cash. Still others were thought to be involved in drugs.
Linda didn't know any of that. All she knew was that Dan was missing.
He was the youngest of the LaPortes' three sons. The other two had married and started families. Dan still hadn't settled down. He was affectionate and fiercely loyal, but had a troublesome temper. He had few ambitions; after graduating from Burrillville High School in 2000, he got a job in a deli.
In the spring of 2005, he followed his boss to San Diego, "looking for something better," Linda recalled.
Dan was working at a restaurant and as a bouncer at clubs -- just to pay the rent, he told his family. His plan, he said, was to open a surfboard factory in Mexico. A 6-foot, 1-inch former high school football player who weighed 290 pounds, he began to take better care of himself. He developed a taste for stir fry and Thai cuisine, started working out vigorously and dropped 100 pounds.
He was finding his way in the world, or so it seemed from 3,000 miles away.
Slow down, Linda told Dan's girlfriend, T.K. Dangalongkon. What's this about Mexico?
Dan had left for the border Feb. 22, a Friday, T.K. said. He'd looked worried and told her that if he wasn't back by 10 p.m., she should call his mother. She'd know what to do.
It was Sunday morning now, and Linda had no idea what to do.
She dialed Dan's Rhode Island cellphone and left a message. She called his California cellphone but couldn't connect.
She drove to the house of one of Dan's closest friends. When was the last time he'd talked to Dan? she asked. Did he have the names or phone numbers of any of Dan's contacts in Mexico? Who's Big Daddy?
Linda went to all his friends, but got no answers. They seemed evasive.
She called T.K. back and sent her to a neighbor, who helped her file a missing-person report with the San Diego Police Department.
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