In the late autumn of 1960, Paulding County, Ohio, was the kind of place where neighbors waved from picket fences and church bells punctuated quiet Sunday mornings. It was here that fourteen‑year‑old Nancy Lee Eagleson grew up: the eldest daughter in a devoted family that prized hard work, community ties, and simple pleasures. Nancy was known for her gentle demeanor and bright curiosity. She excelled in school, often helping her younger classmates with homework, and spent her afternoons reading adventure stories or daydreaming beside the big oak tree in her family’s yard. Paulding High School friends remembered her laughter, and teachers recalled her thoughtful questions about history and literature.
Nancy lived just blocks from the town’s movie house, a modest brick building where local teenagers flocked on Friday nights to see the latest black‑and‑white drama or western. Her younger sister, five‑year‑old Sheryl, adored her big sister’s caring spirit; the two were inseparable companions. On November 13, 1960—a Sunday that began like any other—the Eagleson sisters dressed in warm coats and navy berets to attend an afternoon matinee. Their mother packed a small purse with a shiny nickel each for soda and snacks, and waved them off with a reminder to stay on the sidewalks and be home by dusk.
A Sister’s Last Moments
That evening, twilight settled early over Paulding’s narrow streets and farm fields. At just after seven o’clock, Nancy and Sheryl finished their movie and climbed onto the curb at the junction of Route 111 and Maple Street. They paused at a chrome‑trimmed counter for sweet sodas under neon lights, chatting about the film’s heroic ending. Then they stepped onto the pavement to begin the short walk home—no more than ten minutes, past the church and the hardware store, then onto their block.
Sheryl, clutching Nancy’s hand, recalled feeling a sudden flicker of unease as it grew darker. Cars rattled by on the highway; a brisk wind chased fallen leaves across the road. They had only gone a few yards when a dark sedan slowed beside them and a man in a heavy overcoat and fedora called out, offering them a ride. Nancy politely declined, tugging her sister onward. The car vanished around a curve, and for a moment all seemed normal.
The Abduction on Route 111
Minutes later, the silent night was shattered when the same vehicle circled back. The engine’s growl echoed off distant barns as it slowed again beside the girls. The man emerged, overcoat collar turned up, black horn‑rimmed glasses reflecting the dull glow of the headlights. He crossed the narrow strip of ground in swift, certain steps. Nancy and Sheryl froze; the stranger’s calm voice carried in the chill air as he insisted on giving them a ride home…