Page 39 of Missing White Woman

I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it again, truly at a loss for words. Ty shouldn’t have been there.

“Bree, what’s wrong?”

If this were twelve years ago, I would’ve told her. Shared every single thought zooming around in my head. And she would’ve helped. But I wasn’t ready to trust her. Not right now. I swiped at my eye. Shrugged. “I’m just tired. Gonna go to sleep.”

She nodded, though I could tell she didn’t want to leave. Not yet. But she had to. I needed to be in my safe space—and that was alone.

When she finally left, I didn’t walk her out.

@ABrushWithBillie TikTok

528 Following 1.6M Followers 5.9M Likes

Billie Regan sits in front of the camera, crying. Her eyes are bloodshot. Streaks of black mascara run down her face. Her blond hair is limp. The #Justice4Janelle hashtag is still above her. Otherwise, she’s the only thing on the screen.

“Hey, Billie Bunch. I only have a few minutes, but I had to post because I know you all are as devastated as I am right now. If you missed the press conference, the Jersey City police released a video of what just might be our Janelle’s last moments of freedom. I’m not going to lie. It’s hard to watch, but we have to.”

Billie shrinks to the bottom right of the screen as a black-and-white video pops up behind her. A blond woman walks past the camera down what looks like an alley. She’s alone. She walks a few steps, then suddenly turns, quickly looks back, and resumes walking again, faster. She does a quick double take behind her again before she exits the frame.

“Y’all see how terrified she looks,” Billie says. “She’s obviously scared for her life. And I’d be too. Look at him.”

What looks like a male in a dark-colored hoodie with a drawing of a woman on the back of it enters at the bottom of the frame. He scratches the back of his neck as he rushes out of frame. We never see his face.

“He looks so… suspect. Let me play it again so you can see.” The few seconds of video play again as Billie continues her talk. “He obviously wants to hurt her. It’s warm out. Why would you have on a hoodie covering your face? Why would you be following some poor woman who’s by herself down a dark alley? Unless he wanted to kidnap her to…”

She trails off, unable to finish her sentence. She takes a second to get herself together as the video continues to play on a loop.

“I know we can’t see his face, but that has to be Tyler Franklin. It looks like his build. And I could be wrong, but the hands look… dark. This has to be when he took Janelle. And as hard as this was to see, I’m so glad the police released this footage.

“The Billie Bunch has been on it. I’ve been looking into Tyler Franklin and getting DMs from all of you. As per his bio, he works at JPMorgan in Baltimore. But if you call, they’ll tell you that he’s working in their Jersey City office this week.”

She finally stops long enough to take a breath, then continues.

“But if you call the New Jersey office, they will tell you that he did not come in today. And his work email confirms it. He has an away message on saying he’s unexpectedly out of the office and not checking email. He’ll return your message when he’s back in, hopefully this week.”

She raises her eyebrows at that one.

“He’s not answering his phone. Texts are delivered but not responded to. People in the area who’ve been camped out near Little Street haven’t seen a single person fitting Ty’s description cooperating at the scene. We’ve also combed video footage to see if he was in fact there the morning of Janelle’s murder. We haven’t been able to locate him in the crowd.”

She pauses for dramatic effect, and this time when she speaks, her sentence is drawn out as if she’s savoring every word.

“And I’ve been told even the police haven’t been able to locate him at all.” She nods as she continues. “That’s right, it appears Tyler Franklin is on the run.”

Another struggle for air before Billie continues. “Pause this video. Screenshot every frame. Enlarge it. Go over each pixel with a magnifying glass. If you recognize him, or even think you do, let the police know. Better safe than sorry. If you don’t, you can still help. There has to be something in this video that can help us get justice for Janelle. Maybe something on the ground. Maybe something on her. Maybe something on… him. I mean, look at the back of that sweatshirt. I know someone in my comments already did a reverse image search and nothing came up. But we can’t give up. It has to be made somewhere, sold somewhere, right? If you know where, please let me know. If you don’t want to leave a comment, you know my DMs are open.”

There’s a knock. Billie quickly glances off-screen, then turns back to her audience. “I gotta go. But please, stay vigilant. I’m not going to be able to sleep until we get justice for Janelle.”

TWELVE

Adore was supposed to pick me up at 10 a.m. Normally that would be pushing it for me, but I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I’d see it. The hair. The hands. The jeans. The blood covering it all.

And every time I opened them, I’d think about how I was in bed and Ty wasn’t next to me. How I didn’t know where he was—either last Monday night, when that video was taken, or now. But there had to be a good reason he’d been in an alley behind Little Street four days before he booked the Airbnb. And for him to have lied to me about never having been to Little Street before.

I wasn’t going to be like my mother. Or that lawyer she’d hired. Or what felt like everyone who knew me before my arrest. I wasn’t going to assume Ty was guilty just because that’s what the cops wanted it to look like. I wasn’t going to abandon him just like everyone had abandoned me.

WWTD?

He’d find me so I could explain everything and we could figure it out—together.

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