Survival

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Zenya Hernandez knows. She wears her worry on her face.
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As the State police parts to allow her through the
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last four days have been the toughest of her life.
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She walks up to the microphones. It takes a moment
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for her eyes to adjust to the spotlights. When her
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vision adapts, the sea of reporters comes into view. She
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doesn't recognize any of them. They've come all the way
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from Boston. She stumbles over her words as she starts
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to speak. She stands frozen for just a moment, thinking
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about how everyone knows why she's here, but no one
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can imagine the pain. She starts to speak again, Abby,
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Please come home. We miss you so badly. Sarah and
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I think about you all the time and we want
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you back with us. Please, we love you, We miss you.
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She can barely speak without bursting into tears. Her face furrows,
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but she tries to sound happy.
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And happy birthday, Abby.
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Welcome to Sword and Scale Nightmares True Crime for Bedtime
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or Nightmare Beginnings. Now days earlier, a detective at the
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Conway Police Department sits down at his desk. He takes
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a sip of coffee and opens a case file.
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It's thin. He reads the first line. Abigail Hernandez, fourteen
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years old, freshman at Kennett High School, never came home
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from school on Wednesday, October ninth. The detective grabs his
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mouse and his computer clicks on with a whirr. He
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double clicks an icon on his desktop and a video
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starts to play. He sees Abby for the first time.
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He watches as she walks down the hallway of the
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high school. He takes note of her striped sweater, black jeans,
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black boots, and backpack hanging off to one shoulder. The
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detective leans back in his chair and watches the clip again.
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Nothing about her stands out. Nothing looks panicked or rushed,
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nothing looks planned. The detective stops the video and turns
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his attention back to the case file. Abby is fourteen,
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can't drive and doesn't have a car even if she could.
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She's left a stash of money behind, and her backpack
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doesn't look like it's holding much. He flips a few
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pages until he lands on Abby's cell phone activity. She
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got out of school and started walking back home at
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around two forty five pm that day. Her activity shows
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she sent a text message to her boyfriend at two
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fifty three a single heart emoji. Then, at three oh seven,
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fourteen minutes later, her phone becomes inactive. The detective scratches
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his head. Fourteen year old girls don't just vanish. That's
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when a detail from the file catches his eye. A
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sudden flash of sadness rushes over him when he notices
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her fifteenth birthday is in just a few days. Weeks pass,
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searches ramp up and wind down. Miles of woods and
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waterways are searched with no evidence of Abby. Zenya's days
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blur together. The small responsibilities that once filled her days
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feel pointless now Abby's absence has robbed her of any
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sense of contentment. As she walks to the mailbox, she
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doesn't remember the last time she checked it. She pulls
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her keys out of her pocket, finds the right one,
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and inserts it into the lock. When she opens the door,
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a flood of letters pour out. She watches them as
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they cascade to the floor. She doesn't recognize any of
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the names that probably well wishes, she thinks. She bends
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down to pick them up, leaving her keys dangling in
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the lock. She gathers them and tucks them into the
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crook of her arm as she reaches for the one
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still in the box. That's when she sees it, a
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letter that stands out. All the other letters hit the
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floor with a collective thud. As she frantically rips into
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this letter, Tears well into her eyes and her hand
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covers her mouth as she reads the first line, Dear Mom,
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I miss you and love you so much more than
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you could imagine. I'm sorry I did this. Zenya's eyes
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fly over the handwritten letter. I really miss you, Mom,
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but I won't tell you where I am. She was
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starting to think she would never hear from Abby again.
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I've come to realize that, along with love and courage,
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hope can speak louder than fear. Zenya's tears start rolling
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down her cheeks. I had a dream where I came
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home and gave you the biggest hug ever. I pray
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to God that my dreams will come true. Love Abby.
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Nine months later, Abby stares at her feet on the
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passenger floorboard. She doesn't to look up. She feels the
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unevenness of the pavement beneath the tires. She hears the
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wind rushing past outside. Then she feels the car start
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to slow. She doesn't say anything. The car slows and
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slows until it lurches to a stop. The driver reaches
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over Abby and flings the door open. Get out, the
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driver says. Abby puts one foot on the ground, then
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the other. She stands up and feels the cool night
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air on her skin. She breathes in deeply. The fresh
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air fills her lungs. Wait. The driver shouts, give me
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my hat. Abby removes the ball cap from her head
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and tosses it into the car. The door slams shut
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as the car speeds away. Abby can't believe it. She's free.
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She looks up to the moon in the night sky
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and laughs for the first time in months. She looks around,
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not sure where she is, but picks a direction and
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starts walking. A little while later, Abby sees a familiar sight,
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her house. She walks down the lonely street. No one
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is around. The search for her is long over. She
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slowly approaches her front door. The porch light is on.
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It's an odd feeling returning home after so long. As
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she gets close, she hears her mother's voice on the
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phone inside. Her hand shakes as she nervously reaches for
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the doorknob and turns it. She swings the door open
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and says one word, mom Abby. Zenya replies. It takes
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a moment for the gravity of the situation to sink in.
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Then Abby hears her mother scream and drop the phone.
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She runs around the corner and Abbey sees her for
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the first time in nine months. Abbey runs to her
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mother and falls into her arms. They hug each other
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and don't let go. When Abbey disappeared, the community of
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Conway rallied together. Friends, family and students all joined search teams.
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Volunteers passed out missing fliers. Everyone felt the heartbreaking assume
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the worst. Abbey's disappearance made the national news back then.
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Now the news of her return was just as widespread.
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The court of public opinion wasn't fair to Abbey. They
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saw a teenager return after nine months missing, and she
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was totally fine. She walked in her front door uninjured,
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as if she never left. In the weeks to follow,
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Abby started to talk. It took her some time to
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feel comfortable enough to share what had happened to her.
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She didn't describe what had been done to her, not
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yet anyway, but she did say who was responsible. She
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said that while in captivity, her captor handed her a book.
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On the inside, written in ink was a name. That
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name was Nathaniel Kibbi. The police moved quickly but carefully.
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They verified what Abby told them. They tracked Kibbi down,
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and when Abby was shown a lineup, she didn't hesitate.
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Seeing him again broke what little distance she had managed
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to build. She burst into tears and identified him. Immediately
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after that, there was no avoiding what happened next. Abby
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had to sit down with the investigators and tell them
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exactly what happened. So she sits down with detectives. She
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crosses her arms, unsure of how this is going to go.
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She listens as they ask her to start at the beginning.
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A quiet hush fallen over the room. As she starts
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to recall that day, Abby leaves school and decides to
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walk home. She walks home all the time, but this
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day she's wearing an early birthday present, her new boots.
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After a while, blisters start to form. Abby winces walking
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as painful, and she regrets not taking the bus. Just then,
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a pale blue pickup pulls alongside her with the windows down.
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Her head swings around to see the driver. He asks
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if she wants to ride. She looks at the man.
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He looks like an average person from Conway. A slight
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shift in her feet reminds her of the pain in
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her heel, and she agrees to ride. She hops in
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the truck and shuts the door. Even though she accepted
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the ride, she's still a bit cautious, asking him to
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drop her near her home rather than giving him the address.
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The truck rumbles down the road and he asks if
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he can make a stop first. As he pulls into
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a local business, Abby suddenly feels a surge of nervousness.
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Then she sees the gun. The man tells her that
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if she screams or tries to escape, he'll kill her.
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She stays silent. He puts a ball cap on her
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head and pulls it down low. He handcuffs her hands
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behind her back. He covers her body with a jacket
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and pulls onto the road. He instructs her to stare
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at the floor. Abby takes a deep breath and attempts
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to appeal to his sympathy. She says she won't judge him,
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and if he just lets her go, she won't tell anyone.
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He doesn't respond. Abby swallows hard and whispers a question,
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Are you going to rate me? He grumbles and asks
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how old are you? She whispers again, I'm fourteen. Silence
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fills the cab of the truck, and she starts to
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peek from under the ball cap to see where they're going,
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when she feels an intense, burning pain in her leg.
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At first, she thinks she's been shot, but then realizes
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she was taste. Abbey feels the adrenaline pump into her
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body more than she's ever felt before. She doesn't try
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to peek again. Instead, she starts singing, maybe he'll change
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his mind, she thinks. She slowly starts reciting the words
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to Amazing Grace. Oh, the man says, with a hint
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of glee, you want music. Abby hears the dial on
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the radio click and pain at black by the rolling
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Stones starts to rise. In the truck, she feels the
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road beneath the car changed from pavement to gravel to dirt.
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She really he's taking back roads. After a long drive,
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they arrive at their destination. It's dark now. Abby can't
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see past the headlights. The man leads her to a
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storage shed, opens the door and takes her inside. She
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quickly tries to take in her surroundings without letting on
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what she's doing. The shed is large, bigger than her bedroom.
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It's filled with tools, workbenches, and a don't tread on
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me flak is hanging. He gags her and chains her
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hands and feet. He places a blindfold over her eyes,
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then an old t shirt, then a motorcycle helmet. When
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he's confident she can't escape, he rapes her. Abbey prays
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to God for salvation, but she never says amen. She
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never finishes her prayer so that God stays with her,
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so that she isn't alone. A few days later, Kibby
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shows her the news footage of her mother pleading for
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her to come home. Abby's never felt such sadness. She
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watches her mother speak through tears, stumbling over words. Tears
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well up, and her throat tightens as she starts to
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cry for the first time since this started. Kibby made
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her write a letter home. He instructed Abby to make
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it appear she had run away. She could tell he
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only wanted them to stop looking for her. She writes
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the letter as he's instructed, but she tries to add
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a secret message with her finger nail. She made tiny
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indentations on the paper, spelling out the words help and kidnapped.
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But Kibby found the messages and punished her. He tied
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her down and tazed the bottom of her feet. Abby
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tried not to yell, but the pain was the worst
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she'd ever felt. Eventually, all she could do was scream.
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The months that followed brought much more suffering for Abby.
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She described what amounted to pure torture.
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To keep her.
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Quiet when he was gone, he put a dog's shock
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collar around her neck. If she even raised her voice
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just a little, she would be shocked. To keep her
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from escaping, he booby trapped the door to explode if
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it was opened by anyone other than him. But Abby
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held on to hope and was determined to survive, no
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matter how unlikely it seemed. Abby looks up after recounting
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much of her story. The detectives stare across from her.
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She slowly scans each of their faces, some with expressions
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of disgust, others with pity. One detective leans forward and
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looks her in the eye. He asks, how did you
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get away? Abby stares back for a moment, then replies,
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I didn't. She starts to explain that survival was all
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that mattered, so she adopted a strategy. She never contradicted
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or argued with him. She always did what she was asked,
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and it worked. Over time, she gained a little more freedom,
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helping him with projects in the shed, but more importantly,
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she earned his trust. She lived like this for months,
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only seeing the outside during the brief moments the door
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was open. Then one day, Kibbi came into the shed
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in a panic. She'd never seen him act this way before.
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He was on edge, saying the cops were on to him,
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not for kidnapping her, but for counterfeiting money.
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It was only a.
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Matter of time before they came to search the property.
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Abby started shaking anxiously, not knowing what that meant for her,
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but Kibby put his ball cap on her head and
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loaded her onto his truck once again. The next thing
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she knew, he was pushing her out on the side
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of the road, and she was free. The initial search
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for Abby was massive. Everyone felt the loss, but when
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the letter arrived, those feelings shifted. People stopped asking where
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Abby was and started asking why she left. Some were angry,
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others were certain. They said she'd run away. They said
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she should be charged. They said she should repay the
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state for the costs of the search, but the police
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never believed that story. The letter held too many contradictions.
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Who refuses to say where they are but dreams of
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coming home? The answer if your rational human being is nobody.
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Who claims to be safe yet leaves everyone searching indefinitely
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again nobody. When the truth finally became publicly certainty disappeared
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almost overnight, Abby went from spoiled teenage runaway to something else,
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entirely a survivor. Nathaniel Kibby was charged with kidnapping, aggravated
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felonious sexual assault, criminal restraint, use of a deadly weapon
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during the commission of a felony, in additional related offenses
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tied to her confinement. Prosecutors faced a decision. They could
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take the case to trial and force Abby to relive
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everything in a courtroom under cross examination, sitting just feet
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away from the man who took nine months of her
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life away from her, or they could guarantee he would
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never walk free without asking her to testify. Guess which
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one they chose. They offered Kibbi a plea deal. The
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defense agreed, acknowledging overwhelming evidence Kibby pleaded guilty and was
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sentenced to forty five to ninety years in prison. For
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the thirty five year old Kibbi, it was effectively a
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life sentence. There would be no trial, no spectacle, no
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public retelling, and for Abby that mattered after all that
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she'd been through, because surviving wasn't the end of the story.
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Living afterwards was. Abbi went on to become a hairdresser
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and a mother. She lives a private life in Maine
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with her young son. Years later, Abby chose to tell
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her story on her own terms, serving as an executive
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producer on the lifetime film Girl in the Shed. The
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kidnapping of Abby Hernandez and after everything that was taken
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from her, Abby chose something simple, no flash, no attention,
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no scrutiny, just a life that belongs only to her.
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If you enjoyed the show, please consider joining plus at
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Sword and Scale dot com slash plus, But if you can't,
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consider leaving us a positive review on your preferred listening platform.
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Sweet Dreams and Goodnight