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Who killed Tina Faelz?
Original post made
on Apr 18, 2008
Nearly a quarter of a century after Tina Faelz's lifeless body was found in a drainage culvert on a pathway behind Foothill High School, her family and Pleasanton police are still trying to figure out who could have killed the high school freshman.
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posted Friday, April 18, 2008, 10:42 AM
Posted by Tina's Friend,
a resident of Valley Trails
on Apr 24, 2008 at 1:19 pm
I don't think it was random either. I saw what Tina went through first hand, and suffered from it myself that school year. I had a rough time in junior high, but I cannot put words around the psychological turmoil I endured my freshman year, and what Tina went through was so much worse. There was a whole gang of kids in our neighborhood and beyond who set out to make our lives miserable, but Tina was their focus. When Tina was at my house, they would stand outside and yell out threats. After Tina died, I lived in fear that I would be next, and it's never completely gone away. In fact, I wonder if it's wise for me to even post this missive, but I'm hoping Tina's killer, who ever he or she is, is too retarded to know how to use the Internet.
It's too impossible to try to capture it on this forum, but the police have heard my story, many, many times. I don't believe the person was acting alone. There was a certain sense of entitlement displayed by this whole gang of kids, like they seemed to think they were doing something worthwhile stalking us after school, as if we deserved it. What they told us one day, shortly before homecoming, when two girls jumped out of the bushes in the park at us, was: "We have a whole gang of girls ready to kick your a**es. The choice is yours. Do we kick your a** today, or do you want the gang."
"Get the gang, get the gang," I said. I was shaking as I spoke, but somehow, they interpreted my involuntary, nerve wracked response as a smart a** comment, which nearly got us a beating. They asked their friend, who was leaning against the fence, if he had a knife. He said he didn't want to be a part of it. I think that's what spared us that day. They told us to take even the longer way home, because they didn't want to look at our ugly faces.
Tina and I had a falling out that December, during lunch time in the locker room, where we always met. She had this new friend from out of state, a lot more fun than I was, because I was very much a goody-goody, I'd say. I drove Tina nuts. The first thing I'd do is run and tell my parents about all this stuff, something Tina had no patience for. She said I was very immature, that I needed to grow up. You didn't go telling people about your problems, she said.
Well, they didn't want to hang out with me that day, they said. They had certain things to do, they said, and I couldn't be there. I felt hurt and humiliated.
The next day, I walked by her house, on our way to the bus stop farther from our street (the one nearby was too dangerious). Tina walked out our door behind me, and she said, "Fine, be that way," which is what she'd always say when I was mad at her, and somehow, I wouldn't be mad at her anymore. She had that way. But I wasn't going to let her win this time. This time, I was going to let her know just how mad I was, and then she was supposed to run after me and just once say, "I'm sorry," but she didn't. She let me go, I never looked back. And she never rode the bus again.
The Monday before she died, I was walking home from the bus, and she was walking home from school (from the tunnel from under the freeway). She was wearing large, hideous ski sunglasses, which I thought was funny. She was such a funny, funny girl, with a slapstick sense of humor. She snorted at me, which I also thought was funny. I had to try not to laugh. I was sick from school the rest of the week, but Thursday, my sister told me there were police cars in front of her house. I called our friend from junior high who lived in Dublin, and we spent the rest of the day on the phone, talking about the good ol' days (the 8th grade), worrying about details that were slowly coming together. Our parents, whom I guess had already been told, wouldn't tell us anything. Our friend told me they'd started taking karate (or something like that) lessons together, and that Tina was so funny, a physical comedienne, though that word wasn't in our vocabularies at the time, but that's what Tina was. She'd make us laugh and laugh. We loved that about her.
So our friend told me that Tina said she thought I might like the class, too.
"Do you think she wants to be friends with me again?" I said.
"I think so," she said. "She misses you."
I was on the phone, in the hallway on my house, it was dark out, our friend and I'd been on the phone for hours. My mom let me keep on talking, which was a first. There was a knock on the door, a message from a neighbor, my mom wouldn't open the door all the way, she talked in muffles, there was something about flowers, and all I remember after that is crying into the phone, and seeing Tina's face on the ten o'clock news.
Maybe I shouldn't even send this. Tina would not appreciate it. I look at Tina's face, now from the eyes of a near forty-year old. She was so pretty. My mom said when we got older, the boys would be fighting over us, just wait. I love my mom.
Tina was so misunderstood. She would reach out to people in ways that seemed like practical jokes, and they didn't always go over that well, but what she wanted, more than anything in the whole world, was to be loved.
One thing I can tell you is that if Tina read this, she'd have a field day. She had no patience for my cries for help, and this is one of them. I think she'd want me to just shut up about it and grow up already, but I can't stop.
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