Finding Steve

When I found myself committed to the idea of being a Private Investigator I found that a question remained on repeat in the back of my mind, why?

I’m not former law enforcement, nor military (although, I did consider that path). The notion that  I was qualified to do this without any background, didn't fit the narrative. Yet, what I did find is that it is a great way to help people.

Now initially, you might not think that a Private Investigator is of much help to anyone. It may depend on which side of the coin you are on, really. If you have hired my firm and the results are positive, we have been a great deal of help. Alternatively, if you are the individual or company I have been investigating, well... your opinion of me may not be as great.

Outside of the cool job title, I believe that the vast majority of Private Detectives would agree that helping people through difficult issues and circumstances is a main driver, I’m no different. This is a case that reflects on how much Katella Investigations wants to help.

Late afternoon on October 30, 2017- I received a call from a woman, “Amanda,” who had found herself in a desperate situation. Her brother, “Steve,” had gone missing while he was traveling by bus through Atlanta on his way to South Carolina. She told me of the battles he had endured, with drug addiction matched with a carefree lifestyle. Yet, what was troubling to me was when she mentioned that he called her daily. On occasions where she didn’t answer, he would even call the following day to check in. Despite the challenges he faced, he was devoted to his family. Amanda told us he was sure to always keep a phone and speak with her and her other sister often. 

By the time I had spoken to her, two and a half days had already passed with no contact from Steve. Unfortunately, heroin was his drug of choice, as it is for many in Atlanta. We discussed physical description, tattoos, and other details that would be helpful in the search. Steve was described as 6’1 medium build, he had blonde hair, and blue eyes. Amanda mentioned something that stood out to me, he walked with a “purpose.”

After finalizing our arrangement, my homework began. As with any missing person case, searching hospitals and jails are the first step. At this point in the case, Steve had not been reported missing to the police. Steve was not in any of the hospitals or the jails,  with no known sightings or contacts with local police- I began at square one. Beginning by mapping out his last known areas, I started to canvas the streets, buildings, businesses, venues, restaurants, or anything that could link to the description given by Amanda. 

Steve was in his mid 30’s and the majority of his adult life was riddled with addiction troubles. He was enroute to South Carolina to a treatment facility when he arrived at the Atlanta Greyhound station on Forsyth Street. An area that is as downtown as downtown can get.  He had little to no money, maybe just enough to get him to his final destination and he had somehow missed the transfer bus. As he waited, his money ran low, and eventually he had missed the last bus out of town. When I arrived at the bus terminal, I began with Operations and Security to see if they recognized Steve, or knew if he was still in the area. Steve had last been seen with his luggage on a bench seat at approximately 9pm the night before. After that, nothing. 

I started out on foot, to work the area that I had laid out in  my mapping. First, was a shelter about two blocks away. Photo in hand, I started asking those on the street if they had seen Steve. Eventually, I was able to make contact with the Senior Security Officer at the shelter. Looking through the resident logs, we found that Steve had been there, but left the morning before at 10am. He did not return. 

I followed the route up Pryor Street, making my way to Woodruff Park near Georgia State University. I looked into every alley, under each bridge, every homeless camp I encountered. Nothing. I planned to work a perimeter, and continued on Auburn Ave. towards the Centennial Olympic Park. I knew they had restrooms and an open space, perfect for someone who may want to sit and hang out all day. At the north end of the park, there is another facility that cares for and shelters those in need.  I repeated the same series of questions, the same canvas of the area to anyone who would talk to me. No Steve. 

I continued my perimeter. I believe that humans are subjected to the same routines, safe areas, habits and in this case survival methods and I look for those patterns then concentrate on that. Steve is not from Atlanta, he is going to stay close to what he can easily find or return to. My route took me back towards the Greyhound station via Centennial towards Fairlie-Poplar District, Five Points ( Underground Atlanta). I have worked in this area before, and have visited this part of Atlanta. It is a busy and diverse area with visitors, students, and locals everywhere.  Where is Steve? I had searched high and low, checked empty lots, vacant buildings, doorways, parks, met with the local Police Department, and Emergency Medical Services...but still no Steve.

Five tiresome hours in, 2 miles scoured, I stopped at a deli to eat. I sat down to eat, making sure I’m at the window and I’m facing the busiest of the two intersections.  With half of my Rueben sandwich down, I got in touch with Steve’s sister, evaluating my next move. I recalled from my discussion with Amanda that  Steve walked with a purpose, forward leaning, and fast paced as if he was late for an important meeting. Much faster than the laid back pace most of those in Atlanta have. 

I SAW HIM!

I jumped from my seat, knocking over my chair, scaring the others in the deli. Leaving my belongings on the table, I ran into the street calling out his name. At first, he looked at me and walked away saying “I’m not Steve”. (I have that look, and sometimes people only think cop) I called him by his full given name and he stopped in his tracks. I caught up to him, told him my name and why I was there. He still refused, until I gave details like his birthday, both sisters' names, mom, and dad’s name. This is where the hard work pays off.  

He looked at me with teary eyes, beginning to get emotional and asked who I was. I told him my name is KC Rowe, and that I am the Private Detective his family had hired to find him, to ensure he could get home safe. He said “I can’t believe they did this, they do love me”. If it weren’t for the adrenaline rush, I may have cried with him right there. I took him back to the deli, wrapped my sandwich for him, grabbed my phone and we left. We walked the 4-6 blocks back to the area where he was last staying. A small covered area off the street a little. His luggage was being guarded, actually tied to the wrist of one of his companions who was living on the streets.

I explained to him that I had coordinated with his parents to arrive in Atlanta. His mother was flying in from Miami, his dad was in North Georgia. Two hours after I had met Steve, he was in his dad's vehicle headed to the airport to catch a plane with his mom headed back to his home in New Jersey.

From the moment Amanda and I completed our arrangement to locate Steve to the time I watched him drive off with his father, 28 hours had passed. In the end of those 28 hours, reconnecting Steve with his family reminded me why I became a Private Detective, to help people. I feel truly honored to be able to reunite missing persons with their loved ones and I know that what I do with Katella Investigations makes a lasting impact on those we help as well as ourselves.