Hindsight can haunt us all in innumerable ways.

What if one day, one ordinary Tuesday morning,

you witness something you thought was insignificant,

only to learn later that someone's life was in mortal danger.

What if you had called out for help?

What if you had tried to stop it?

Those are questions Juliet sometimes asks herself.

Juliet isn't her real name, but that's... Juliette sometimes asks herself.

Juliet isn't her real name, but that's what we're choosing to call her to protect her identity.

On the morning of January 24th, 2006, the same day Jennifer Kessie disappeared, Juliet was in a hurry. Her husband, a cancer patient, was late for his radiation treatment at a local clinic. She drank her coffee, locked the house, and got behind the wheel of the car

with her husband in the passenger seat. The pair drove through their development

in the heart of Orlando, coming to a stop sign at the intersection of Moxie Boulevard and

Conroy Road. As Juliet flicked her right turn signal, she saw something. Her husband saw it too.

Across the road at Mosaic at millennia where Jennifer lived,

a car was driving erratically.

As we stopped at the stop sign,

we saw a black Malibu.

It was for a door.

And we saw a struggle in the car as if someone was taking a staring wheel out of

someone's hand. We didn't stay to watch it or which way they went because of my husband's first day of radiation for his prostate

cancer.

The car was a black chubby Malibu, identical Juliet says, to the one belonging to Jennifer that she had later

...