First, I want to apologize. When I wrote a piece in this space on Tuesday about the actress Jodie Foster and a speech she made at the Golden Globe awards, I misspelled her name as Jody Roberts. At least one reader wondered how I could be so far off, and I replied as to how if she thought that was far off, she ought to call Mrs. Doud and get the rest of the story.
I have no excuses for the mistake, except this: There actually was a Jody Roberts, and I have written about her before. She is not an actress, nor is she as famous as Jodie Foster, but her life has been interesting.
I first met Jody Roberts when I hired her as a reporter on The Tacoma News Tribune, where I was city editor. She was fresh out of college and a heck of a reporter and writer. Her colleagues told me she smoked and drank with the best of them (or worst of them, as the case may be) and she had no problem with swearing, whether she did it or you did. She was a tough little gal. We put her on the police beat, and she soon proved to be a pretty good investigative reporter.
And then, at age 27, on May 20, 1985, she disappeared. One day she was there, and the next day she wasn’t. People in Tacoma thought somebody whom she might have been investigating had rubbed her out.
Twelve years passed. Then, one day, someone who had known her spotted her in Sitka, Alaska, where she was living with a fisherman husband and two sets of twins.
Her name by then was Jane Dee. It was the only name she could remember, a name she had given herself. She had no idea who Jody Roberts was. She thought she was the victim of a bad joke.