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It Can't Happen Here

We all read the stories, you know the ones about the young girl taken by a predator, or wife shot by her husband, or the little child beaten by the person left to care for it. Yes, we've all read the stories. And we all know that it happens, and yet for some reason we tend to push the thought that it could happen in our town, to the back of our minds. We allow ourselves to wake up everyday, getting dressed and carrying on with our lives, giving ourselves the false security that it could never happen here... not in our town. Even when it happens in the next town over, we reassure ourselves that it still couldn't happen here... the other town was different, the people involved weren't from here. We push that little nagging voice that tells us that next time it could be here as far back as we possibly can. It's of no fault of our own- no one wants to think that these tragic stories could play out so close to where they live, to where their kids go to school, or their spouses head off to work at everyday.

One of the first crimes I wrote about involved a semi local man who had drowned his little boy. The case really was located just a stones throw away, but it wasn't here. It wasn't in the place I'd grown up, in the town I knew. But, the headlines that a "local" man had murdered his son still touched too close to home, and reminded me that it can happen anywhere. I still hoped that it'd never happen any closer.

March 23 seemed to drag on forever. Just a few days prior, the weather had been as close to Spring feeling as one can get, with bright blue skies, cooling breezes and almost a hint of summer heat shining off the sun. But, by that Friday, the weather had once again turned and the rain drizzled in with a cold chill, they said highs in the 50's, but after feeling the teasing warmth of the days before, it felt more like a chilly 30 degree fall day. The sound of rain splashing into the already muddy puddles had replaced the constant chirping of birds, and the only reminder of the warm weather was the few toys still scattered across lawns.


Daniel Stiles was watching his girlfriend's two young children while she was at work Friday morning- Mai, 2; and her older brother Matthew. Although Stiles had dated their mother for 6 months, and had also had a longer on again off again relations with her, he was not the children's biological father.

The call came into 911 operators around 11. The caller, a frantic sounding man, rushed to inform the operator that "she's not breathing, she's like barely breathing, her stomach is bloated".

The dispatcher would have a squad arriving in barely over 4 minutes, but by then it would be too late for the 2 year old girl, and police would arrive to begin investigating just what had happened to Mia Jorris.

As deputies and paramedics were responding to Mia's injuries, a neighbor had stepped in to assist with Matthew. At first, she thought he might be ill, as he was complaining about stomach pains. She alerted police, and as it turned out, the 3 year old wasn't sick- he was injured also.

Two little children, just 2 and three years old. One bloated in her stomach, the other complaining of stomach pains.

Mia died as a result of her injuries, Matthew was sent to the hospital, where he is currently recuperating.

Dan Stiles is being held on $500,000 bail, after being charged with felonious assault against Matthew. Investigators are still looking into the death of Mia.

Last year, one of the children had a broken leg, various stories were given about how it had happened. Allen County Children’s Services had also been informed about the family, although they refuse to comment publicly about the case (or lack of one) with their office.

Although police believe that Stiles will also be charged in connection with Mia's death, they have not as of yet released any details about cause of death.
1 child dead, another injured, man arrested
Man charged in attack against boy, girl’s death under investigation
2-year-old girl’s death a homicide investigation


Friday was a gloomy rainy day, one that seemed to lag on forever. I'd been inside, sitting at my desk, wishing it was 70 degrees again, and wishing I'd planted my bulbs on the days that it had been. The rain, the soggy mud, the overcast skies- it was no good for playing outside, so I'd taken to sitting joking with my husband about this or that. The scanner interrupted us every few moments, mostly with conversations from the local taxi company or the refinery. As it went searched through the channels, it picked up the end of one conversation- a child not responding, a two year old.

I wondered what had made the child sick, or if they'd fallen and gotten hurt. Maybe they'd choked on something. I never wondered who had hurt them... because we all know- that can't happen here.

Report Child Abuse Now.
Childhelp National Child Abuse Hotline at 1-800-4-A-CHILD (1-800-422-4453)

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