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Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Megan Lancaster: Victim of Terrorism

If you live in Scioto County, you must demand every possible resource be used to find Megan Lancaster, a local woman missing now for a year and a half. I know many rumors about her disappearance have surfaced, and, so far, none of these stories have produced any tangible leads. People have told me many, many things about what happened to Megan, and I understand how this particular case generates tremendous speculation, hearsay, and fabrication.

I have no idea what happened to Megan. I pray she is still alive somewhere, yet even if she is deceased, the family and friends need vital information to begin closure. I hold confidence that someone does know the truth. And, even if no one is held responsible for Megan's disappearance, her whereabouts must be discovered.


Megan Lancaster represents a piece of the essential fabric of the community. No group of human beings in any social circle can rest comfortably until a crime of this magnitude is solved. The compassion and concern many of you have extended towards Megan and her family are beautiful gestures; however, unless we insist her case is solved, nothing comes full circle for any of us. We cannot have assurance; we cannot grieve; we cannot have hope and trust that any other disappearance will be explained. Instead of hope, fear and distrust will grow.

In this respect, finding Megan Lancaster is a landmark in the healing and in the growth of Scioto County. Please understand, she is not a person of great means, of great influence, or of great political stature. Megan is, in many ways, a prodigal child. For Megan, unfortunately, made some bad choices, and she was swept away by evil influences that could strike any of us and any of our loved ones.

People speak of their hatred of terrorism -- Megan Lancaster most likely is a victim of sinister local terrorism.


Someone, or some people, in their sadistic minds have considered themselves worthy to be judges of Megan's fate because they believed they could get away with their crime. Someone has calculated that the citizens of Scioto County are too weak to stand up and demand justice for a common person with apparent problems. And, someone believed they understood no one would even care to find a girl who walked the streets. So far, these "someone killer(s)" are correct in their assumptions. And, as long as Megan is missing, our county is under the vile grip of terrorists.

We all share the burden of stopping this local terrorism. If you care enough to help lead Megan home, you surely believe in the equality and worth of every human. That conviction is sorely missing in Scioto County. We need so desperately to strengthen ties and to find justice. Confidence is at rock bottom.

After two American journalists have been beheaded by ISIS terrorists in Iraq, we now hear tremendous outrage and anger over their heinous deeds, yet we are missing one of our own here, in our own home, and we are indifferently allowing this horrible wrong to slip to the status of a cold case -- an abduction? a murder? that gets colder each day. Whoever did this deed is holding each of us under terror, not terror from a Muslim extremist group, but instead terror from our own necessary convictions to defeat evil in our midst.

I ask you to consider what this implies about our honest love for each other. I think I know the answer. Many of us evidently believe that the full force of justice should not be afforded to someone with questionable character or soiled virtue. Many would rather love a stranger than care for such a person in their own county. They care little to lead such a soul back home.


by Marta Keen

In the quiet misty morning, when the moon has gone to bed,
When the sparrows stop their singing and the sky is clear and red,
When the summer's ceased its gleaming, when the corn is past its prime,
When adventure's lost its meaning, I'll be homeward bound in time.

Bind me not to the pasture. Chain me not to the plow.
Set me free to find my calling and I'll return to you somehow.

If you find it's me you're missing, if you're hoping I'll return,
To your thought I'll soon be listening; in the road I'll stop and turn.
Then the wind will set me racing as my journey nears its end,
And the path I'll be retracing when I'm homeward bound again.

Bind me not to the pasture. Chain me not to the plow.
Set me free to find my calling and I'll return to you somehow.

In the quiet misty morning when the moon has gone to bed,
When the sparrows stop their singing, I'll be homeward bound again.

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