Caylee’s Memorial Site Today

I had been planning on taking a trip down to Suburban Drive and the old Caylee Anthony memorial for a week or so, but I either didn’t feel up for it that day, I got busy doing something else, or it rained. This time of year it rains almost every day as fronts from the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic Ocean converge on what is commonly referred to as Central Florida. It’s hot, it’s humid, and it’s dangerous as thunder roars it’s warnings throughout the region. Central Florida is often called The Lightning Capital of the World and for good reason. Many days it rains so hard you can’t see past your nose.

Yesterday, I decided it would be a good day for a ride. Gee, I need to get out more. By the time I left, it was already clouding up and rain was threatening to come at any moment, but people in Florida learn from the beginning not to let a little rain damper their plans. On the way, the rain did come, but one of the fascinating things about living here is that there can be a torrential downpour on one side of the street but not the other. Yes, that is true, and yes, I have seen it myself, several times. I figured that by the time I got there, it would be clear enough to take a look around. You learn to sense rain, believe it or not, and you get to know how to read clouds.

One of the funny things that plenty of people don’t know or understand about this state is the climate. Unless you’re a glutton for punishment, you do not stay outside for long periods of time. During the day, the sun beats down so hard on you, it can be deadly. I stopped sunning myself years ago and just from going in and out, I have a tan that comes from years and years of doing just that. In and out. Spending 5 minutes at a time, many times, day after day. It really adds up. At night, it can be brutally humid. The earlier rain is condensing and you can almost feel the vapor as it evaporates into the sky. There is no such thing as a cool summer night in Florida. Plain and simple, it’s hot. Even as the night temperature drops, the heat of the day brings steam off the ground. Bugs are out. Florida bugs. Unless you are in a populated area, like downtown Orlando, the critters rule the night. You itch. You scratch. What was that? Sometimes it’s imagined. Most of the time it’s not.

This is the last time I will mention the subject until I need to reference it again, but keep in mind that Casey had to stay in her car from the night of the 15th until 2:00pm the next afternoon. Cell phone pings proved she was there in the neighborhood, very close to the house from the evening hours of Sunday through 4:00pm on Monday and, absolutely, no one saw her; none of her neighbors in that close-knit area. If she killed her daughter at around 11:00pm as is the assumption, she went nowhere. With daytime activity at the school, she risked exposure if she parked her car near those woods. Summer recess does not mean no one is there, as one of yesterday’s photos will show. No one has come forward up to this point to say they saw her anywhere around the neighborhood. This also means that Casey had to have remained in her car at least 15 hours, in the vicinity of the house, from the time of the killing until her father left for work the next day and no one reported seeing her. In the stifling, hot and humid Florida summer. That’s if and only if Casey went back to the house at all. If she didn’t, that would change the time frame to over 17 hours in her car, until she reached Anthony Lazzaro’s apartment in Winter Park, where pings showed she went. If you firmly believe George lied about seeing Casey and Caylee leave on the 16th, which is certainly a possibilty, keep in mind that it could also be true that Casey sneaked back into the house later that night of the 15th or wee hours of the 16th, making no noise, and she remained hidden in her room until George left for work and, of course, he didn’t find that unusual at all seeing her car in the driveway, where she always parked straight in. No knock on either of the bedroom doors to make sure everyone was OK and no stirring. No peeking in to make sure everything was in order. No cell phone rings and no talking. It’s also interesting to note that the Anthonys access their house through the garage door and when asked by detectives, Lee stated that the front door was never used by anyone until July 15, when the place looked like an OCSO squad room.

I must state, in all fairness, that it did not rain on the 15th but Orlando International Airport registered 1.15 inches on the 16th. As I mentioned, it can rain in one spot and not in another and it can be a downpour. This is not to say anything about how much rain other areas, including the Anthony neighborhood, got that day or at what time of day. Here, it is not unusual to get 2 inches of rain in 15 minutes and moments later, the sun is shining brightly. Either way, the heat and humidity didn’t leave town whether it rained or not. The high was 92 on Sunday and 89 on Monday. Not unbearable, but not remotely comfortable enough to spend the day in a car. The nightly lows were 70-71 degrees and I assure you, that was around 4 or 5 in the morning. (1) Again, I cannot emphasize enough about the humidity and around these here parts, we call it a heat index, meaning that at 90 degrees, it feels like 100 or more.

One of the areas that’s been in the back of my mind for some time is the property just south of the wooded lot where Caylee’s body was found. A very credible commenter asked about it, too. On Google Maps, it looks like a developer had gone in to build homes, but stopped. You can see work had been done, but nothing else. Could Casey have driven there the night of the 15th and killed her daughter? That was an obvious possibility, so I decided to take a look and see if Casey could have been there and done that. It looks like the perfect spot to commit a murder and all of the cell phone pings would register right there by the house on Hopespring. My objective in this report is to look at the facts. I have no desire to cover-up the truth. You can decide what you want to believe. For sure, from that map, Casey would have had all the privacy in the world.

I didn’t have a clue about what I’d find. I relied on the Google map like every other blogger. South of the Suburban Drive intersection at Chickasaw Trail, there’s a street called Hastings Beach Blvd. That’s the only way to get to the place. I headed east and turned north on Florence Harbor Drive. That’s the street that dead ends into the woods. What I found were houses. Nothing but houses. Lots of them all around me, left and right. If you look at the arrow, it points in the direction of the photo I took of the spot (BELOW). The street ends at a cul-de-sac, one that stops you in your tracks with a chain link fence that says stay out, in so many words.

To verify my finding and to prove I have done no Photoshop manipulation, go to the Bing Web site and view a much newer version of the same location. I stopped and asked a man getting out of his car if these homes were here before the Caylee Anthony murder and he said, “Oh, yeah. I’ve been here a couple of years.” I asked him about the fence. How long has it been there? “As long as I’ve lived here.” To the best of your knowledge? “Yes.” He was getting groceries out of his trunk and I didn’t want to bother him with any more questions.

This should allay all theories that Casey killed her daughter here unless she slaughtered her in full view of people’s houses. No one saw or heard a thing, but in itself, it would have been a huge risk. From this point, I drove to Suburban Drive to take a look around. Bear in mind, this is not to dissuade people from theorizing any manner or time of death. This is to just show you, from a Floridian’s perspective, what it’s like here and for you to decide what is feasible and what isn’t. You can take this information and do whatever you want, but it is real and it is true. It may fit in your criteria for either of those two days in question.

♦

That was the business part of my trip. The rest was pleasure, although there is nothing pleasurable about the death of Caylee and where her body was dumped. As I left the Florence Harbor area, I got back onto Chickasaw and headed up to the intersection of Suburban, turning right. The next series of photos will speak for themselves unless I added a notation. The first one shows me heading to the location on foot. I parked my car about 100 feet away. The school is straight ahead, where Suburban dead ends.

The above photo is the actual site of the memorial. Take a look into those woods now and tell me what you see. What was once taken, the land has swallowed back up. Imagine if all of those stuffed animals remained there to get rained on. Weeds would have strangled poor Teddy or he would have drowned by now. Below is a different perspective.

The next photo is a view just to the right of the above one. It shows the back fence of the property on the corner of Hopespring Drive. The back yard runs along Suburban.

(ABOVE) It is here that I believe Casey accessed the woods, between the fence and the brush. This is pretty much what it would have looked like when the killer disposed of the body. Only, it was dark, for sure, but she knew her way around. You can see a small break in the woods beyond the brush. That was an entry point and not far from where Caylee’s remains, most of them, were discovered. Just to the left of this photo is the memorial site.

(ABOVE) About 30 feet to the left of the memorial is a look down into the woods. It’s interesting to note the area is still fairly free of growth. That tells me the team of dedicated and thorough examiners left no stones unturned and the ground has not yet recuperated. If you look closely, you’ll see a potted plant of some kind, most likely plastic, and a possible spot where bones were found. What you probably cannot see is that the ground is pretty saturated. At this time, it is not flooded, but in other photos the ground has a few inches of water. Remember, the side of the road drops down into the woods.

There were other pockets where tedious work had been done. Bones were scattered over a half acre when crews went in.

The next photo (BELOW) was taken just to the left of the above one. This or the one above is as close as I can get to showing you a very good idea of where Roy Kronk poked his head into the woods. It looks inviting, doesn’t it? That area was under water then, and parts of it are today.

What did he see back in those dog days of August?

Continuing west, I found the infamous FOR SALE sign that most of us saw plastered all over the Internet after news broke that the owner had put up an asking price of $89,900.

I cleared away some of the growth and I did it for a reason. It has nothing to do with trying to help the owner sell the property.

From that point, I headed back to my car, towards Hopespring. This next shot gives you another look at the back property fence and along the road. It is another angle showing how it almost backs right into the woods. If you look closely, you can see the roof of the house on the corner, the Gonzalez home. Next to him lives Zenaida Almodovar. Hmm… Zenaida? Gonzalez? Close to home? (See Creepy Cryptic Casey)

As I drove away, I was pointed in the direction of the school…

I asked a deputy manning the barricades during the recovery last December if the area down by the school was regulary patrolled. He told me it was. All schools are routinely checked throughout the night. The gated entrance is always kept locked, too.

Remember I mentioned there was a reason why I cleared out some of the growth around the sign? Believe it or not, there’s a method to my madness.

I took this back to my car and placed it into a sack.

In Memory of Caylee Marie Anthony

To everyone, friend or foe, I offer you this and I promise you my intention is honest and true. I have absolutely no other motive. If you e-mail me your address, I will send you a leaf as a token of remembrance. This will be something from the site of the original memorial. You can place it in a book or do what you please. I want nothing in return, no envelope, no stamp. This is purely a gesture of kindness in honor of little Caylee Marie Anthony. My adress is marinadedave@yahoo.com.

Afterward, I will destroy your address.

♥