http://www.pittsburgpostgazette.com/neigh_...629wacover2.aspWhat happened to Jerry?
Family fears for wistful wanderer, poet and 'follower' mysteriously missing
Sunday, June 29, 2003
By Joe Smydo, Post-Gazette Staff Writer
The bedroom at his dad's place is just as Jerry Cushey Jr. left it 1 1/2 years ago. The Ford Thunderbird sits outside the Union house, waiting for Cushey to complete the repairs.
Where is he?
You're in my heart.
You will always be with me.
When moments are dark
Thoughts of you lift me.
With insight sharpened by pain, Sonya Helmantoler can see the sadness in her brother's poetry. There's uncertainty, too, about his life and place in the world.
Cushey wrote a few lines whenever the inspiration struck him, using whatever paper was at hand. He didn't keep a book of his poetry. He hadn't been that structured, that disciplined, about anything.
At 29, Cushey hadn't settled down. He bounced from job to job and from bed to bed, alternately staying with his father, mother and friends. He had no road-worthy car of his own. He lived a teen-ager's life -- full of promise but without shape -- and acknowledged as much in one of his poems.
As I peer into the mirror
I question what I see.
For is this a man
With years of battles won
Or a lonesome, scared child
Fearing what's yet to come?
Staring deep and harder
This image I see
The child, the man
Are one in me.
About 10:30 p.m. Saturday, Oct. 13, 2001, Jerry Cushey Sr. saw the dance of headlights and looked out the window of his house, three-quarters of a mile up winding, pothole-scarred Nasal Lane. He saw a shadowy figure, not Jerry Jr., moving away from the Jeep Wrangler his son had borrowed from him.
Strange, the elder Cushey thought.
"He called Jerry's cell phone. There was no answer," said Jerry Jr.'s mother, Ilona Boyd of New Eagle. "I called the cell phone. There was no answer. We kept calling the cell phone every day, a couple of times a day."
Cushey had vanished. Despite family members' Herculean efforts, including their searches of woods and a lake, and consultations with psychics, mediums and a private detective, they have been unable to find him, his cell phone or duffel bag of clothes. They're certain he's been killed. They're desperate to know where his remains are, who killed him and why.
State Trooper Samuel Ferguson said he needs the help of some of Cushey's acquaintances. Some won't talk. Others have melted into the Monongahela Valley landscape.
"I think they made themselves scarce," Ferguson said.
Family members said some of Jerry Jr.'s friends no longer speak to them, either. Are they afraid? Do they know something? Was Cushey killed because of his involvement in something illicit?
"I'm not saying he's Mr. Clean, because I don't know," his mother said.
Two weeks after Cushey disappeared, family members began consulting a Monongahela psychic who relayed a series of disturbing images: drugs, a fight, metal on flesh, a wooded area, water, mold, a body bound with rope, buried where it could be dug up quickly and moved.
"She was the first one that told us my brother was gone," Helmantoler said.
Cushey is one of about 97,000 people missing nationwide, more than 43,000 of them adults, according to the Nation's Missing Children Organization Inc. and Center for Missing Adults in Phoenix.
Unlike children, adults sometimes choose to disappear, hoping to begin fresh lives in new locales.
Cushey's relatives said Jerry Jr., weak-willed and eager to please, wouldn't hurt them that way. Ferguson wouldn't rule anything out.
"If he's alive, we want to find him," Ferguson said. "If he's dead, we need to bring some closure to the family."
My wish, I wish
For you to take
Take my wish
For I wish you might
Wish my wish
When you wish tonight.
Cushey's disappearance rent a close family.
He was born Dec. 23, 1971. In the Christmas spirit, a maternity department nurse one day slipped Jerry into a red felt stocking before carrying him to his mother's hospital room.
Cushey and his sisters -- Helmantoler of Monongahela and Gina Thorn of Fairmont, W.Va. -- grew up on the Union farm with pigs, chickens, horses, rabbits and ducks and with some crazy goats that were supposed to graze the hillside but nibbled the house's wood siding instead.
"Jerry had a little donkey. Name was Pancho," said his father, divorced from Ilona since 1995.
In the remote area nearly a mile from a paved road, the children had only each other for playmates. They rode sleds and snowmobiles, played hide and seek with four-wheel-drive vehicles in the woods and built bonfires.
Sonya, the eldest, was the mother hen. Gina, the youngest, was the wild one who sneaked out of her bedroom window so often her dad nailed it shut. Helmantoler said middle child Jerry was shy "and so dang tiny," until an 11th-grade growth spurt, that he needed a protector.
"I beat up a couple of people -- and they were boys -- because they made fun of him," she said.
Helmantoler is still her brother's protector. Perhaps no family member puts more pressure on the police to solve his disappearance or tries harder to keep his name in the news than she does.
Early in adolescence, Jerry visited a girl who had a crush on him and returned nonplussed, hair mussed and shirt askew. "She threw me down on the couch and everything else," he told his family.
"We made fun of him," Helmantoler said. "We said, 'Jerry, isn't it supposed to be the other way around?' "
In time, he got the idea. As he bulked to 170 pounds and grew to 5 feet 9, with brown eyes and black hair, Cushey became a ladies' man, the romantic kind who leaves flowers and writes love notes.
Cushey once considered suicide because of a broken heart.
"He was a romancer. He was never a user or one-night-stander. He was Romeo," Helmantoler said.
At his dad's house, Cushey's bedroom walls are adorned with posters not of scantily clad models but of a couple in a seductive dance and a man and woman snuggling in a car on Lover's Lane. He expressed his romantic notions in his poetry.
Into my life
This angel did fall.
Catch her, I did
Breaking her fall.
Cushey graduated from Ringgold High School in 1989 and moved from job to job, sampling careers, never settling on one.
He worked for ITS Corp., a Peters manufacturer of television transmission equipment, then opened a car parts and stereo business, Fineline Custom Automotive in Finleyville.
"He didn't have much in stock. ... He ordered most of the stuff. That lasted about a year and a half, then it fell through," Thorn said.
Cushey opened an arcade in Charleroi, another venture that lasted less than two years. He worked at Italian Village Pizza at Century III Mall in West Mifflin, Allegheny County. He tended bar at the Russian Club in Monongahela. He worked at Quality Concrete Inc. in Pittsburgh.
He began managing Orlean Gypsy, a Mon Valley rock band. Former band member Jeremy Wingo said Cushey was dating his sister, Jennifer, when he attended a performance and expressed interest in getting involved.
Cushey didn't sing or play an instrument, but as Wingo, band member Jimmy Gamble and family members told it, he did about everything else. He operated the light and sound systems, repaired raggedy equipment on the fly, booked performances, even maintained the van the band used.
The band turned at least one of Cushey's poems into a song, and he designed business cards for the group.
"He was good at everything. ... I called him MacGyver," Wingo said.
Cushey enjoyed photography. He liked to draw, and family members encouraged him to consider art school. However, he didn't seem able, or willing, to capitalize on his many talents.
Relatives said he was a poor judge of character who wanted too much to be accepted and let others take advantage of him. Perhaps, Helmantoler said, somebody persuaded her brother to sell drugs.
"My brother was a follower," she said. "He was never a leader."
In January 2002, 47-year-old Robert R. Church died of an accidental cocaine overdose in his Monongahela apartment. Helmantoler said she was disturbed to hear investigators found among Church's possessions a notebook or address book containing her brother's name.
Trooper Ferguson said he was aware of Church's death but had no information about a notebook bearing Cushey's name. Monongahela police Chief Dennis Mendicino, after reviewing an inventory of Church's possessions, said he didn't see an address book listed.
Where did I go wrong?
Never wanted to hurt no one.
No excuse for the things I've done.
Only wanted to be someone.
Wanted friends and a little fun.
Cushey moved to the St. Louis area in fall 1999. Relatives cited a budding relationship with a woman he befriended over the Internet; Thorn said her brother also may have wanted to distance himself from somebody in the Mon Valley.
"Supposedly, Jerry owed him some money," Thorn said. "But I never did know what it was all about."
Cushey and his prospective girlfriend parted company within two weeks. He looked for a room and moved in with another woman and her pregnant daughter.
Cushey got work as a carpet installer -- he learned on the job and traveled from state to state -- and booked a gig in the St. Louis area for Orlean Gypsy. Band members went out for a week, making Cushey wistful.
Two weeks later, he followed them home, making the trip by bus because he had decided to leave his aging car behind. His dad picked him up at the bus station in Washington in December 2000, just before Christmas, and Cushey began what may have been the last 10 months of his life.
Family members wish he had stayed in St. Louis, away from the people and places that led him to trouble. But that's not how they felt at the time.
"We were just so excited," Thorn said, "for him to come home."