BY MOLLY SANDERSON
The woods behind Essex Bridge were long known to be a place where Ridgedale High School students congregated on warm weekend evenings. When the parties got too raucous, neighbors would inevitably summon the Ridgedale Police. Students would be sent on their way, the intoxicated occasionally having their keys confiscated or being driven home in the back of a police car.
There were never any arrests. The general view among residents and local law enforcement was that these were good kids, out to have a good time.
In the spring of 1994, Simon Barton was enjoying the end of his senior year at Ridgedale High School. An accomplished athlete as well as an honor student, Simon’s biggest concern was whether he should enroll in Duke University or play basketball for the University of Virginia, where he had been offered an athletic scholarship.
The only child of Sheila and Scott Barton, Simon was born at Ridgedale University Hospital and had lived in town his entire life. He died after slipping in the woods and suffering a traumatic head injury.
Despite evidence of heavy underage drinking that night, there were never any arrests in connection with his death. In place of accusation or prosecution, there was a collective outpouring of grief. Simon Barton’s funeral was attended by more than 900 of Ridgedale High School’s 1,000 students. Within weeks, there had been more than half a dozen fund-raisers to establish a scholarship in Simon’s name.
Twenty years later, there has been another death in those same woods. As of today, there have been more than 200 posts on a social media site called Frat Chat. Intended for use by university students, Frat Chat has in Ridgedale—as in many other towns—been overtaken by high school students. The vast majority of these posts accuse various students of being responsible for the baby’s death.
Despite the proximity, the police believe the two incidents are unrelated. Police have yet to identify the baby’s mother or father and continue to ask for the public’s help. If you have any information, please contact the police at 888-526-1899.
Molly Sanderson, Session 13, May 28, 2013
(Audio Transcription, Session Recorded with
Patient Knowledge and Consent)
M.S.: Why don’t we ever talk about the baby? We talk about everything else—my job, Ella, Justin. My mother, who’s been dead for almost twenty years.
Q: You don’t think she’s relevant?
M.S.: No, I don’t. I’m afraid I’ll turn into her, of course. But other than that, no, I don’t think she’s relevant.
Q: Turn into her how?
M.S.: She was destroyed because my father left her. And because she was destroyed, she was a terrible mother.
Q: Do you think you’re destroyed? That you’ll end up a terrible mother?
M.S.: End up? It’s already happened. I’ve been a terrible mother for months. I have to get over this. I have to get better. Or, yes, I’ll end up just like my mother. I can live with almost anything but that. So how am I going to get over it?
Q: I think we need to address your guilt.
M.S.: The baby was inside me. Of course I feel guilty.
Q: What was happening in the days before you found out the baby’s heart had stopped?
M.S.: The days before? I don’t know. I don’t remember much. What difference does it make?
Q: The fact that you can’t remember suggests to me that it might matter very much.
M.S.: The usual things. I was finishing a draft of a piece of proposed legislation before maternity leave. And we were trying to potty-train Ella, and she kept peeing on the carpet, which sounds funny now. But it wasn’t funny then. All I kept thinking was that we were going to have to get the carpets cleaned before Justin’s family came to see the baby.
Q: And what about Justin? Was he busy, too?
M.S.: So busy. He’d taken over a class for a colleague, and he was presenting two different papers at two different conferences in the three weeks before the baby was due. We were both really busy. That’s life, right? Everybody’s busy.
Q: I’ve never heard you be frustrated by that.
M.S.: That Justin was busy? After how much he’s given up to take care of us since? How could I possibly be irritated by that? Besides, I was the one carrying the baby.
Q: And so he bears no responsibility?
M.S.: He has responsibilities, yes. He helped with Ella afterward. And before, too. But he was working all hours. That wasn’t his fault. He had a job to do.
Q: You seem very frustrated now, though.
M.S.: I am frustrated. With you. Listen, our problem wasn’t who folded more laundry or unloaded the dishwasher or who last took out the garbage. Our baby is dead, that’s our problem.
JENNA
MAY 28, 1994
It finally happened!!! The Captain and I had sex! I’d call it making love, if that wasn’t so gross. But that’s what it felt like: love. Everything about it was so perfect. His parents were away, so we had the house to ourselves and I lied and told my parents that I was staying at Tiff’s house.
And it worked like a charm. For once, they didn’t even call Tiff’s mom to check. Otherwise, they would have found out that her family was away at a wedding in Philadelphia.
The Captain actually COOKED dinner for me first. Like he was my husband or something. It was some kind of spaghetti that was kind of gross, but I never tasted anything better in my whole entire life.
And it was amazing. Didn’t hurt at all like Tiffany said it would. The Captain was so sweet and gentle. And he didn’t even know it was my first time. (I didn’t want him to be freaked out, and anyway it’s not like it’s that big of a deal. I’ve done A LOT of other stuff with A LOT of other guys.) He didn’t tell me he loved me afterward—I wouldn’t have wanted him to.
It was so much better when he just held me like he did.
Sandy