My fascination with true crime began with a random television special about Gary Ridgway, infamously known these days as the Green River Killer. In 1988, though, that moniker had no face. It was a creepy story without an ending.
At the same time, the iconic “Unsolved Mysteries” was a hit on TV. It was one of the shows we rarely missed, and it scared the hell out of me as a pre-teen. More than 30 years later, those who know me won’t be surprised to hear that my morning routine includes 20 minutes of yoga, followed by drinking a cup of coffee for another 20 minutes. For the duration of that 40 minutes, I watch reruns of “Unsolved Mysteries.”
I don’t pay as much attention to the segments about lost love and family members. But I often think about the difference time has made in those cases. In those days, it could be incredibly difficult, even impossible, to find people. These days, especially with the Internet, it’s much easier.
Perhaps that’s why the search for James Daniel Hollingshead is so frustrating. Danny, as my father called him, has been a ghost since the old man last spoke to him in the early 1970s. It’s been 50 years now since my father saw the man for whom my brother is named.
Dad had one person he called a friend in his 13 years of incarceration. He often referred to people he got along with behind bars as “associates.” It was his way of saying he didn’t trust anybody.
“I rarely went out of my cell outside of work, meals and showering,” he said. “I wouldn’t stay go out to the yard because you had two hours, and that’s a long time for something bad to happen. I stayed to myself. I read a ton. I read whatever I could get my hands on, so I could learn.”
Danny, as far as we can tell, grew up in Oklahoma. He was the son of a woman who also lived a life a crime. In fact, Danny and his mother, along with another teenager (Danny was 17 at the time) were arrested for stealing food in 1959. By the mid-1960s, he and my father were serving time in the Hutchinson Correctional Facility.
“We knew each other because we both worked in the kitchen,” Dad said. “I liked him. He was a big bullshitter, but he was smart.”
Paroled in 1968, Danny and my father, who got out the following year, lost touch for a while before the former tracked the old man down in Borrego Springs, a small town two hours northeast of San Diego. The duo was inseparable for a while until they had a falling out.
A few years later, after the old man’s final stint in prison, Dad met my mother, then they had two sons. Sadly, there’s a good chance Danny has no idea my father named one of his boys after him.
We’ve conducted various searches through the years, though not as thorough as the research on my book about Brenda Keller. In the six years I’ve worked on it, I’ve learned quite a bit about locating people.
The search for Danny has had numerous dead ends. No one answered the phone in South Lake Tahoe, despite numerous calls. Dad mailed a few letters after I found that address in the late 1990s, with no reply. A man who appears to be Danny’s son said he didn’t have a relationship with his father.
Danny’s exwife, who lives in Louisiana, didn’t answer the phone, either. The couple had a son, Sean, who I’m still looking for 50 years after his birth. California doesn’t have a record of Danny in its correctional system files, which might be a good thing (perhaps he finally stayed out of trouble).
Despite the struggles, I’m confident we’ll find Danny someday. Through this blog, I’ve connected with one of his nieces. As it turns out, his brother also is looking for Danny. The latest lead is a woman whose DNA matches the niece, so we have the name of a daughter or granddaughter.
My plan is begin working on a book about my father after I finish writing abound Brenda. An important piece of that is finding Danny. One day, we’ll solve this unsolved mystery.
TWELVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS SERIES 2022
Part XI: The wonder of “The Wonder Years”
Part X: A book excerpt on Brenda Keller and her late grandmother
Part IX: Fast times at Maplecrest Elementary
Part VIII: Dad and St. Charles, my favorite craft show
Part VII: Coming home from K-State
Part VI: Going back to the well
Part V: Bloomer where you’re planted
Part IV: How the heck did I misspell that?
Part III: A partridge and an electronic sign