The Vanishing Miss DeFond
There are two kinds of people in Nevada: those who are lost, and those who are merely waiting their turn. The desert has a talent for swallowing things whole: wagons, dreams, marriages, political promises, and occasionally people themselves. It stretches across the state like an ocean that forgot how to wave.
Now comes the case of Twyla Defond, aged 28, who disappeared from Fernley with her seven-month-old daughter and enough confusion trailing behind her to keep three sheriff’s departments employed through supper.
The Lyon County Sheriff’s Office reported that Miss Defond first entered official society in early April by being arrested on an outstanding warrant. In America, some people collect stamps, others collect debts, and those who collect warrants. The government takes an active interest in the third category.
After spending several weeks in the Lyon County Jail contemplating the fragility of freedom, the legal system transferred Miss Defond to a rehabilitation center. It was considered progress. Modern civilization believes any human can find correction by removing a person to another building with stricter rules and worse coffee.
But less than a week later, Twyla departed the rehabilitation center on foot, which officials described as “walking away.” Bureaucracy has a wonderful gift for understatement. If Cleopatra had fled Egypt with Caesar’s treasury, the paperwork would have read: Subject relocated unexpectedly.
According to deputies, her boyfriend and one of his friends picked her up somewhere out in the desert. Nevada has thousands of square miles where a person can disappear so completely that even God would need directions.
The trio reportedly stayed in Fallon before returning to Fernley the following day, which suggests either poor planning or a powerful attachment to disappointment. Then matters grew more official.
The Third Judicial District Court issued another warrant for Miss Defond, this one for failure to comply with a specialty court order. Judges are sensitive souls who become offended when their instructions get treated as optional literature.
The warrant ordered that the law hold her without bail upon arrest, which is the legal system’s way of saying, This conversation is no longer casual.
On that same day, witnesses reported seeing Twyla leave home with her seven-month-old daughter, over whom she had legal custody. Authorities believe she likely walked away. With no vehicle connected to the case, it means she vanished into a landscape capable of hiding entire civilizations with less effort than a gambler hides a Queen of Hearts.
Now, here the machinery of government collides with the machinery of reality. Deputies explained the case does not currently meet the requirements for an AMBER Alert.
America loves requirements. A child may disappear into the desert itself, but somewhere in an office sits a form explaining why the emergency is not yet officially dramatic enough.
So the sheriff’s office waits. The desert waits. Fernley waits.
And somewhere beyond the highways and truck stops and stretches of sagebrush, a young mother carries a child through a state large enough to lose both hope and memory. Nevada has always been a place where people arrive intending to reinvent themselves and occasionally succeed by accident.
If you happen to know where the missing have wandered off to in the giant furnace of rock and dust, the law would greatly appreciate hearing from you at 775-463-6600.
