The flirtatious waiter drops off the first round of Bloody Marys at the table of Mesquite High School alums, Class of '77, gathered at the Buffalo Wild Wings over by Town East Mall for a girls night out. The Cowboys game against the Miami Dolphins is about to begin, but so far the game crowd can't compete with the boisterous chatter emanating from the women.
Facebook brought childhood friends Lisa Stone (above, right) and Tina Wiley closer together, as it did with many of their Mesquite High School classmates, who have used the social networking site in the search for Stone, who's been missing since June.
Mark Graham
Tina Wiley and Joni Shannon (right), frequently drive by Stone's now-vacant house in Far East Dallas.
Related Content
More About
There's Tina Wiley, a bright-eyed, divorced office manager; Joni Shannon, a blonde, married, newly minted motorcycle enthusiast; and Beverley Scaling, whose thick brown hair complements her youthful expression. As more friends arrive, chairs are pulled up and bar tables pushed together. They laugh about who's changed and who still looks like the drill team beauties they were back in the '70s.
"These are really good!" says Shannon after taking a wide-eyed sip of her tomatoey beverage. To her right, there's talk of grown kids and jokes about expanding waistlines. Typical reunion chatter, but it doesn't last long. They are there to celebrate the birthday of one of their own: drill team high-kicker Lisa Stone. Only problem is, Stone has gone missing. No one has heard from her since her mysterious disappearance three months ago.
At midnight this September 2, Stone will turn 52, or should have turned 52. With every mention of her name, her friends struggle with using the past or present tense. Shannon, Wiley and the others who have come to reminisce have no idea if their friend is dead or alive.
It's as if one day, Stone was rabidly posting as usual to Facebook, with her rambling musings on life and love, and the next, her page was silent. No more hopeful posts about new friends and fate and trusting in God. No more novel-length messages to the network of Mesquite alums who'd kept up with each other on and off over the years, but who came together stronger than ever last year, sharing their daily lives as Facebook friends. Suddenly, there was only silence from a woman who, by all accounts, was never at a loss for words.
"I have to know what happened," says Wiley, now stirring a vodka tonic. Gatherings like this give Wiley and friends a few hours to rehash everything they know about Stone's disappearance, looking for some connection, some clue that will help them figure out what happened on June 5, the last day any of them heard from Stone.
Over drinks, the women go over some of the timeline they've carefully assembled in hopes of getting police interested in the case:
June 20: Disabled neighbor and friend Juanita Burris' fears are heightened when Stone fails to pick up Burris' daughter from the airport, as scheduled. Burris files a missing persons report with the Dallas Police Department.
June 27: Tina Wiley learns about the missing persons report. She phones Stone at home, but Sherry Henry, her roommate and longtime partner, picks up. Henry says Stone isn't home. A call to Stone's cell phone reveals it is out of service.
June 29: Wiley calls the Dallas police asking for a welfare check on Stone's home, worried Stone might have fallen into a depression, unable to leave. The officer who visits Stone's home is greeted by Henry, who says Stone is attending a funeral. Police take no further action.
July 2: Joni Shannon observes Henry driving Stone's car; follows her to a dumpster where Henry throws out many of Stone's valued keepsakes, such as photos and journals.
July 5: Wiley, Shannon and friends go to DPD headquarters and demand to speak to investigators. The police agree to reopen the case.
No arrests have been made, which doesn't sit well with Stone's Mesquite High girlfriends. Even if Henry wasn't involved in anything sinister, they figure she certainly knows more about Stone's disappearance than she was willing to share. Undaunted, Stone's girlfriends continue their detective work, and draw attention to their cause through candlelight vigils and social media. Their Facebook group, "Looking for Lisa" currently hosts nearly 2,000 members. Were it not for their relentless dedication, their willingness to risk stalking, trespassing and burglary charges, Lisa Stone's story would have ended with a missing persons report.
"We want justice done," Wiley says. "The fact that someone could get away with an unspeakable crime" is what drives them to keep Stone's memory and their suspicions alive.
At the restaurant, Beverley Scaling pulls out the posterboard signs she bought at Party City so that the group can decorate them with colored marker messages to Stone, squeezing them on the table between appetizers, beers and Bloody Marys. Later that night, the women will stop by Stone's home on Truxillo Drive in Far East Dallas—the same home she inherited from her parents. Once there, they will place the signs in the yard of the vacant red brick house with the gray shutters. Henry appears to have moved from the home, which now stands dark and unoccupied.
Shannon grabs a blue marker and stands, taking a sip of her Bloody Mary before writing in a loopy, capital cursive: "Lisa, Happy Birthday, We Love You!" She dots her I's and the exclamation mark with stars, adding at the bottom: "We won't stop looking."