Mike Meese- No cape required.

Mike Meese was a cop. A husband. A father. A teacher. A friend to many. To me, he was no less than a hero.

My story with Mike started way back in 1983. I was 14 years old. My family and I had just moved to Phoenix, Arizona from Virginia. One night, I had a pretty big fight with my mom and left the house. I set out to walk to my friend's house, which was a pretty long way from home. I was mad, I was 14, and I didn't care how far I had to walk, I just wanted to leave. I knew my way to where I was going, but wasn't really familiar with the best or safest route to take there. I did not choose well.

I was walking on a stretch of road that was parallel to the train tracks. Word to the wise, these roads are never heavily populated because of the noise. Adding to my misfortune was the typical summer Phoenix dust storm that came through and knocked out the electricity.

He was walking towards me on the same side of the road. I decided to move to the median to avoid passing him. He passed me, and I breathed a sigh of relief. A moment later, I heard his footsteps running up behind me.

It happened. It was awful and I will spare the details. I was left with my life, and no serious physical injury. I did all the right things. I called for help. I saw a doctor. I filed a report. I took the morning after pill at the age of 14 to assure I did not get pregnant. I did everything I was supposed to do.

Remember, this was before DNA was utilized. This was before internet. Cell phones were still the size of shoeboxes. Catching guys like this and later proving their guilt in court was rare. That, I can excuse. The treatment I received from the police and even the hospital staff is not something I can excuse.

The first police officer I talked to suggested- not asked but actually suggested- that I had made up the entire story in order to get back at my mom for the fight we had. He was also suspicious of my calm demeanor. Apparently he missed the part of his training on the variety of different reactions people have to trauma. Then at the hospital later that night, I overheard my doctor tell another doctor he is seeing so many young girls come into the ER saying they have been raped in order to get the morning after pill. Now that may not have been a direct accusation, but it felt like one.

So...I went on with my life. No big deal. Nothing to talk about. Nothing to deal with. It happened, it's over. No follow up. Just a long series of bad decisions born from a total lack of self respect or esteem.

Fast forward to 1996. Bad decisions behind me, I was newly married living happily with my husband back in Virginia. My husband and I were watching Americas Most Wanted one evening. There was a story running about Richard Allen Davis. I knew who he was, the Polly Klaas case was huge and I will never forget it. But for some reason, I never really looked at him. Well, who would want to, right? Anyway, I looked at him and sat bolt upright. That was him! It had to be! I went digging in my closet for the old case file from Arizona, and pulled out the composite drawing we had done years before. It was him, I was sure of it. I felt sick, I was shaking. I asked my husband to look too. He agreed, it looked just like him. I didn't know what to do. I called AMW. They put me in touch with the lead investigator on the Polly Klaas case in Sonoma, California. His name was Mike Meese.

I called Mike the next day. I explained what I saw on tv, and the drawing. I told him my story. Even though I didn't share all the ugly details, that was not easy. Mike was so sensitive, and I felt very comfortable with him right away. He said that based on what I had shared with him, he felt he could look into my case for me. I sent him a copy of my file, and a photo of me at that age.

Mike called me just a few days later. He said that my description of what happened to me sounded like Davis' MO. He also said my appearance at that time fit Davis' preferences. (ugh, shiver) I pointed out that Davis was in California and I had been in Arizona, and Mike told me they had tied Davis to sexual assaults all along the Western coast. He told me he wanted to look into a few more things and would get back to me soon. I told him that while I was appreciative, I wondered what good it would do us. Davis was already on death row for the murder of Polly. Mike said he would have no problem charging him with this crime, even if it didn't go to court.

Some time passed, and Mike did in fact get back to me. He had been in contact with the detectives in Arizona who had handled shelved my case. He said that was some of the laziest police work he had seen, and they dropped the ball that night when they didn't go out looking for that guy. He also told me he just couldn't place Davis in Arizona at that time. He was suspected in sex crimes in several states, but none in Arizona. It looked like Davis wasn't our guy.

But it didn't matter. Not anymore. What I needed was not for this bastard to be caught. What I needed was for someone to care. Someone to try and right the wrong. I thanked Mike over and over for helping me, for taking the time to look into this case. I know that for a cop, an investigation is a gift, not a chore. But for the survivor, it can mean everything. I told him how much it meant to me, and he said "Shawnee, what happened to you was wrong, it never should have happened to you and I am so sorry it did. You deserve this."

That changed everything forever.

I have written before about Mike, and other heroes. We all have different definitions for the title. What Mike did for me was no less than heroic. A simple task for a seasoned detective. A small amount of work to include or exclude a suspect. Typical day in the life of a cop, right? You never know how one seemingly small act of kindness can literally change someone's life.

I was able to lay it down. I let it go. I had been carrying it for years. Not as a chip on my shoulder, but as a weight on my chest, on my heart. A heavy weight. Lifted. In a moment. By Mike.

Mike and I agreed to stay in touch. We did, off and on. An email here and there, a phone call or two. And more recently, Facebook. I went to his profile Thanksgiving morning to wish him a wonderful day, and read the beautiful words written by people who were missing him, heartbroken and mourning his loss. It was shocking, to say the least. Mike was diagnosed just last month with pancreatic cancer. He had weeks of chemo and was looking forward to the holidays. His students are still leaving beautiful messages for him. It is clear that he was not just special to me. It is obvious what a difference he made in so many lives, how many he touched and inspired. How loved he was. I suspect he was a hero to many. I know he is a hero to Mark Klaas and his family, he said as much on Mike's page too. I know he was a loving father, so very proud of his two sons. His wife. So many family and friends who talk of a wonderful man, husband, father, teacher and friend.

I will miss you Mike. I only regret that I did not get to throw my arms around your neck and thank you in person. I will always walk a little lighter because of you. Rest in peace, my friend. My hero.