24 years ago, Alyssa Turney woke up and got ready for school for the last time.

It was her last day of 11th grade.

And while she wasn't graduating that night, she was excited to cheer on her friends who were,

and to celebrate with them at a party afterwards.

But before she could end the school day, she was notified that our father was there to pick her up early.

As she was leaving campus, she stopped by her boyfriend's shop class to let him know that she

was leaving for the day, and that she'd see him later that night. She also ran into her friend

Jessica and told her the same. They hugged, exchanged I love yous, then Alyssa got in our

father's truck and was never seen again.

Our father was late to pick me up from school that day, but when he did, he was panicked, and said

Alyssa wasn't answering her phone. He handed me his cell phone to try to call her, but there was no

answer. When we got home, I immediately walked down the

hallway to the last door on the left. Sure I'd be greeted by Alyssa telling me to get out of her

room. But she wasn't there. I never knew how much I'd miss her yelling at me to stop annoying her.

There was a note on her dresser saying that she left for California. A few hours later,

our father called the police to tell them that his daughter was on drugs and ran away to her

aunt's house. A police officer never came to our door to see the cameras, hidden or apparent,

to ask for the footage of her leaving. They never walked in our kitchen to see the large

passive recording system on our home phone to see if any calls have been made that day. They never

saw my father to check his hands or arms for defensive wounds. And they never spoke with me to

ask what time I was picked up to create an accurate timeline of the day's events.

Alyssa wasn't on the news, and there was no search for her, despite her friend's offering to help. The only person that looked for her that night was her boyfriend. He drove to where he thought

...