Scoping out Casey’s haunts

Today, I took a field trip. First, I headed down I-4, along the downtown Orlando corridor and got off on John Young Parkway. That’s the exit for the Orange County Jail, the 3rd largest jail system in the state of Florida with more than 1,800 employees, including over 1,000 certified correctional officers. It is affectionately known around these here parts as 33rd Street, because that’s the street it’s on. Mention 33rd and everyone knows what you’re talking about. I know it well. Just kidding. Anyway, that’s been Casey Marie Anthony’s home for some time now. There, she is lovingly known as inmate number o8049710, from her booking number. Maybe, a more politically correct thing to say is that she is a guest of the Orange County Corrections Department. She invited herself.

I took the trip to illustrate a more poignant interpretation of life in Orlando and to take you on a personal tour of the Anthony case through my eyes. It should be different from what the media paints. My post will mostly be a series of photographs with commentary where I think it is appropriate. Some of the photos will speak for themselves. After I left the jail, I headed south on John Young, east on Sand Lake Road and north on SR 436 to Lee Vista Blvd. From there, I headed east to Chickasaw Trail and north to Suburban Drive. Just to give you a bearing, if you’ve ever flown into Orlando, 436 takes you directly into OIA, the Orlando International Airport.

When I got to the jail, I went to the visitor’s center and they instructed me where to go from there. I crossed John Young and entered the booking and release parking lot. As I snapped pictures, a very attractive, professionally dressed woman stopped along the sidewalk and said, ” I will be in the way of your picture.”

“No you won’t. I’m in your way. Besides, I took pictures here already.” We walked towards the booking building and chatted. I asked her what she did. She told me she was a criminal defense attorney and she emphatically said – and made it very clear – that she is, in no way, affiliated with the Casey Anthony defense. I told her what I was up to and she chuckled. Not at me, but she thought it was amazing how people are falling all over this case and making it such a big deal and the press has no idea. I kind of agreed, but I said there are an awful lot of people reading my blog and I’m not out to sensationalize it. As a matter of fact, I am trying to take a more civil approach. Besides, my motive has nothing to do with money because I am not making any. I’m not trying to sell the articles I write and I’ve met some very nice and interesting people because of it.

As we approached the building, we stopped and continued our conversation. She reached into her purse and took a business card out of her case. Ms. Dione R. Talkington Fletcher, Attorney at Law, P.A., it said. She was a lovely woman and quite friendly, not stuck up at all, as some lawyers can be. “You know, you’ll have to go through security.”

“I know.”

“Oh, you can’t go in with that camera!”

“No?”

“No. Didn’t you see the signs?” I hadn’t, but I decided I didn’t need to go in there. She was the one who told me it was the third largest jail in Florida after I asked her if she knew where Casey was. She didn’t. I wanted to take a shot of the building and maybe, the cell window, but that facility is all spread out. You’d have to be an insider to know where she is being held. I thanked her and we went our separate ways. Obviously, she was there to see a client. I could have gone in, but I would have had to leave my camera behind.

(Click images to enlarge)

This is across the street from the jail and it’s the first place I went for information. The very nice corrections officer told me I could go to the public booking entrance.

One of the jail buildings, from across the street, on John Young Parkway

This is the public booking entrance. Those arrested do not enter here.

To illustrate the starkness of jail life, the following two photographs give you an idea of what Casey Anthony sees every day. In the land of Disney and Shamu, her life is no theme park.

The next series of photos are more solemn.

This is at the corner of Suburban Drive and Hopespring Drive. The house on the left is where Peter Gonzalez lives. Zenaida Almodovar resides in the house next to it.

This next photo shows a letter left at the original memorial, under a tree at the corner of Suburban and Hopespring. The original stuffed animals were donated to a charity for Christmas by the Anthonys. The homeowner requested the items be removed from the property for several reasons, including not being able to maintain it, especially as it grew in size. Some small trinkets were left behind.

From here, I walked to the site where poor Caylee was found.

As I approached the memorial, a handful of people milled around, looking at the things left behind. We glanced at each other, but at no time was a word said. It clearly was a peaceful, eerie feeling. This is sacred ground.

The next two photographs are just to the right of the memorial. You can see how law enforcement really cleared the site.

To the left of the main memorial, someone started a new one.

You can peer into the woods. This was all heavy brush at one time and underwater.

As I continued moving to my left, more brush began to appear. The final of these three photographs shows just how heavy the brush was before Caylee was found.

Here is one final view from across the street

On my way back to the car, I spotted a little plastic bag on the ground at the original memorial site. In it was a little toy character of some kind. A tack was sticking in the tree, so I decided to pin that little guy there. Then, I left. It was at that moment I felt I was leaving little Caylee behind.

When I left the memorial, I went down Hopespring to drive by the Anthony house. Gone were the TV trucks and camera crews. Gone, too, were the posters, one on the front door, another in a window, that begged for help finding Caylee. The house looked forlorn and abandoned.

On my way home, I headed up Goldenrod Road and spotted the Amscot where Casey abandoned the car.

In Memory of Caylee Marie Anthony

May your soul rest in peace

†