TOSHO HANDA - 3 yo (1984) - Fairfield CA

Only an open bedroom window and a ransom note on a bed marked Clark Toshiro Handa's disappearance 25 years ago."You don't really know the full concept of the years when you're mourning the whole time," Rachel Handa Borg said.Borg was 7 when her 3-year-old brother -- affectionately known as Tosho to
his family -- disappeared from his home on Aug. 23, 1984.The
ransom note on the bed that family members discovered the next day
detailed a rendezvous point where money would be exchanged for the
boy's safe return.But much to the despair of family and law enforcement agents, the alleged kidnappers never showed up."That was one of the most depressing days of my life," uncle Earl Handa said.Normal boy, strange case Both father Ron Handa, 62, and sister Borg, 33, remember a lively and active child typical of other 3-year-old boys."He
was very energetic (and) loving -- a little boy, so he got dirty, he
ate a lot," said Borg, who helped take care of her little brother.A photograph provided by Ron Handa shows a grinning Tosho eagerly licking a popsicle several months before his disappearance.Tosho
was the last of three children produced by Ron Handa and his then-wife
Linda, who had six other children from a previous marriage."We kind of thought he was going to be pretty athletic," Ron Handa said of the son he never saw grow up.Though Tosho by all accounts was a typical 3-year-old, his abduction is bizarre."It's a very, very rare crime," said Gerald Nance, supervisor for the
forensics services unit at the National Center for Missing and
Exploited Children.Most cases of kidnapped children are driven by sexual purposes, and there are no ransom notes, Nance said."In 11 years, I think I've only dealt with maybe five cases (like Tosho's)," Nance said.The Handa case, like others that have grown cold throughout the years, landed on Nance's desk.Tosho's
sensational disappearance galvanized the community, with residents
plastering the town with leaflets in hopes of finding any information
that could lead to his safe return.The case also
attracted the attention of the FBI and the fledgling Kevin Collins
Foundation, the now defunct San Francisco-based organization that
provided resources for families dealing with missing children.The kidnapping devastated Tosho's family."The
first year -- it's hard to describe unless it happens to you. I guess
it's kind of like an illness, having something you can't control," said
Earl Handa, 58.With children still to care for, Ron Handa
receded from public view, allowing his brother Earl to become family
spokesman in those first chaotic years.Cold but not forgotten Officially,
Clark Toshiro Handa's kidnapping is still an active missing person's
case, said Lt. Bob Bunting of the Fairfield Police Department's major
crimes unit."Barring new information, it really wasn't going to get an active assignment," Bunting said.The likelihood of finding Tosho now is slim, Nance said."In about 70 percent of the cases, the child is going to be killed sometime within the first four to six hours," Nance said.Should
Toshiro be alive, he'd be 28 and would be hard to recognize as an
adult, he added. The center tracks unidentified bodies and sends alerts
to medical examiners and coroners -- just in case they belong to
missing children."In a cold case, time has to be our friend. ... Somebody out there knows something about what happened to (Tosho)," Nance said.In
the meantime, Nance encourages parents to teach children to alert
nearby people by yelling, kicking and fighting back if they are being
abducted.Tosho's disappearance has profoundly affected the Handa family."I don't leave windows open, I have an alarm and I have a dog," Borg said.Both of Borg's daughters -- 12 and 9 years old -- know the sad story of the uncle they never knew.Ron
Handa, meanwhile, has become extra vigilant and conscious of children
who do not appear to be supervised and empathizes when-ever he hears a
new report of a vanished kid.Family members remain guarded in their hope that, somewhere, Tosho is alive and well, perhaps with a family of his own."If
he's out there, I hope he's happy, and it would be great if we could
all meet one day and know that he was happily taken care of in life,"
Borg said.The family still celebrates Tosho's birthday
every year in December, even buying a cake and reminiscing about when
they all lived in Fairfield.Like many families, the
Handas have scattered wherever 25 years of life would take them. Ron
and Earl Handa still live in Fairfield.Ron is retired and is a volunteer chaplain at the California State Prison Solano in Vacaville. Earl is a teacher.Borg and her mother Linda both live in Temecula. Like her uncle, Borg is also a teacher.Every
year on Tosho's Dec. 5 birthday, no matter where they are, Handa family
members buy ornaments and light a candle that burns the whole day to
remember their lost child.If the candlelight should guide his son home, Ron Handa wants Tosho to know one thing."He's got a wonderful family waiting for him," he said, choking back tears.

http://www.charleyproject.org/cases/h/handa_clark.html