The Florida sun can be a brutal thing. It beats down on the strip malls and the condos, bleaching the color out of everything, turning the landscape into a washed-out dream. But when the sun dips low, and the shadows start to stretch, that’s when the real darkness comes out to play. It’s a different kind of dark, a humid, suffocating dark, thick with secrets and lies. And in Fort Myers, back in the early eighties, that darkness swallowed two girls whole.
Mary Opitz. Eighteen years old. Last seen leaving the Edison Mall on a January evening in 1981. She’d gone there with her mother and brother, a typical family outing, the kind of mundane event that fills up a life. Mary bought some pretzels – a small, insignificant detail that somehow sticks in your craw. Said she was tired, heading back to their car, a burgundy 1979 Chevrolet Camaro. The kind of car that promised freedom, escape, a way out of the Florida heat.
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| Aged Depiction of Mary 57 |
An hour later, her mother went to the parking lot. Mary was gone. The pretzels and packages were there, on the trunk of the Camaro, abandoned, like a cruel joke. The car was parked in a well-lit area, close to the Woolworth’s. A place where you’d think you were safe, surrounded by the artificial glow of the mall, the illusion of security.
The cops, they did what they always do. They looked at the obvious, the easy answer. Runaway. No evidence of a crime, they said. Case closed. But Mary’s family, they knew better. She was saving money, three hundred bucks in the bank, to buy a van. She was redecorating her room, putting down roots, not running from them. She was looking forward to getting her braces off, a teenage girl’s rite of passage. She left everything behind – her purse, her clothes. No note, no explanation. Just gone.
Then, almost a month later, it happened again. Another girl, eighteen-year-old Mary Elizabeth Hare, vanished from the same parking lot. Physically resembled Mary Opitz, they said. Another ghost in the making. Her car, too, was found abandoned, no clues left behind. The cops, they scratched their heads. Coincidence? Maybe. But the darkness doesn’t do coincidences. It does patterns.
Hare and Opitz. Two girls with too much in common. Both grew up in New York, spoke with that distinctive accent. Both disappeared while running errands, the kind of everyday tasks that shouldn’t end in oblivion. Both considered well-behaved, no trouble, no reason to run. Hare sometimes went to Mariner's Inn, where Opitz worked. But there was no proof they knew each other. Just another thread dangling in the void.
Then, the darkness coughed up a clue. In June 1981, Hare’s body was found in a field near Alabama Road and Highway 82, in a remote, undeveloped area of Lehigh Acres. Badly decomposed, fully clothed. But the message was clear: homicide. Stabbed in the back. A betrayal, a final act of violence.
Opitz? No trace. Never heard from again. The cops, they started to think foul play in her case too. Too late. The darkness had already swallowed her whole.
Enter Christopher Wilder. A name whispered in the shadows, a predator who left a trail of broken bodies and shattered lives across the early to mid-1980s. A suspect in a dozen disappearances, rapes, murders, and attacks. He liked Florida, liked to hunt there. He had a routine: lure young women with promises of modeling sessions, a twisted fantasy that masked a deadly intent.
Wilder was no stranger to the law. Probation in 1980 for attempted sexual battery. Back home in Australia, kidnapping and sexual assault charges, also in 1980. Parents bailed him out, he fled back to the States, promising to return for trial. He didn’t. He was too busy hunting.
Rosario Gonzales, Elizabeth Kenyon, Tammy Leppert – other names added to the list of the missing, the violated, the dead. Wilder’s shadow loomed large, a dark stain on the Florida landscape.
The darkness has a way of catching up, eventually. In 1984, Wilder was killed in a shootout with the cops. The hunt was over. But the questions remained.
What happened to Mary Opitz? Was she another one of Wilder’s victims? Did she ever stand a chance against a predator like him? Her case, it remains unsolved, a cold file gathering dust in some forgotten archive.
The Florida sun still beats down, the strip malls still sprawl, and the darkness still waits for its next meal. The ghost girls of Fort Myers, Mary Opitz and Mary Elizabeth Hare, their stories linger, a reminder of the fragility of life, the brutality that lurks beneath the surface of the ordinary.
This isn’t just a story about two missing girls. It’s a story about the darkness that preys on the vulnerable, the forgotten, the ones who slip through the cracks. It’s a story about the lies we tell ourselves to feel safe, the illusion of control in a world that’s often chaotic and cruel. The details in this case are chilling and paint a picture of the terror these girls must have felt in their final moments.
Mary Opitz went to the mall with her family. A simple outing, a moment of normalcy in a life that was probably anything but. She bought pretzels. A mundane detail, but it speaks volumes. It tells us she was hungry, that she was looking forward to a simple pleasure. It humanizes her, makes her more than just a name in a file.
She told her family she was tired and heading back to the car. Did she really go straight to the car? Or did someone intercept her? Did she see someone she knew? Someone who offered her a ride, a promise, a way out? The possibilities are endless, and they all lead to the same dark place.
Her family's car, a burgundy 1979 Chevrolet Camaro. A symbol of freedom, but on that night, it became a trap. The pretzels and packages left on the trunk. A sign that something was very wrong. She wouldn’t have left them there if she intended to drive away.
The car was parked in a well-lit area, close to the Woolworth's. But the darkness doesn’t care about light. It finds its victims in the brightest places, in the most crowded rooms. It uses the illusion of safety to its advantage.
The cops initially believed she was a runaway. The easy answer, the convenient explanation. It absolved them of responsibility, allowed them to close the case without doing the work. But her family knew better. They knew she wasn’t the type to run. She had plans, she had dreams. She was saving money, redecorating her room, looking forward to the future.
Three hundred dollars in her bank account. Not a lot of money, but it was hers. It represented her hard work, her hope for a better life. She was saving up to buy a van. A van meant freedom, mobility, a way to escape the confines of her life. It’s a detail that speaks volumes about her aspirations.
She was in the middle of redecorating her room. Another sign that she was planning for the future, that she was putting down roots. She wasn’t running away; she was building a life.
She didn’t take her purse or any extra clothing. Basic necessities, the things you take with you when you leave home. Their absence screams foul play.
She was looking forward to getting her orthodontic braces taken off in a few weeks. A teenage girl’s concern, but it’s important. It shows she was thinking about her appearance, about her future. It’s a detail that makes her real, not just a name in a file.
Mary lived with her family in the 1500 block of College Parkway. A typical suburban address, the kind of place where you’re supposed to feel safe. But the darkness doesn’t respect boundaries.
She had dropped out of high school in the tenth grade and was studying for her GED. She was trying to get her life back on track, trying to build a future for herself. She wasn’t a lost cause; she was a fighter.
Almost a month later, Mary Elizabeth Hare disappeared from the same parking lot. The same location, the same circumstances. The darkness was repeating itself.
Hare physically resembled Mary Opitz. Another detail that sends chills down your spine. Was it a coincidence? Or was the predator targeting a specific type?
They had other things in common as well. Both grew up in New York, spoke with a slight regional New York accent. A shared history, a common background. It’s another link between the two cases.
Both disappeared while on routine errands. Everyday tasks, the kind of things we all do without thinking. But for Mary and Mary Elizabeth, these errands became their last moments.
Both were considered well-behaved teenagers with no significant problems in their lives. They weren’t troubled, they weren’t rebellious. They were just living their lives, trying to make the best of it.
Mary Opitz worked at Mariner’s Inn, where Hare and her friends sometimes went. A connection, but not a strong one. There’s no evidence that the two females knew each other. It’s a tantalizing detail, but it doesn’t provide any answers.
In June 1981, Hare’s fully clothed and badly decomposed body was found in a field near Alabama Road and Highway 82 in a remote, undeveloped area of Lehigh Acres, Florida. The darkness had claimed another victim.
She was the victim of a homicide; she had been stabbed in the back. A brutal, personal killing. The stab wound in the back suggests a betrayal, a cowardly act.
There has been no trace of Mary Opitz, however, and she has never been heard from again. Her fate remains a mystery, a question mark hanging over the Florida landscape.
Authorities began to suspect foul play was involved in Mary’s case after Hare’s body was discovered. Too little, too late. The darkness had already won.
Authorities theorize that Christopher Wilder, a man linked to at least a dozen disappearances, rapes, murders and/or attacks of numerous women in the early to mid-1980’s, is a suspect in Mary’s disappearance and Hare’s homicide. A convenient theory, a way to tie up loose ends. But it doesn’t bring Mary Opitz back.
He was known to frequent the Florida region during this time. He was a predator who roamed the state, hunting his victims.
He sometimes attempted to lure young female victims by offering non-existent ‘modeling sessions’ or other tactics. A twisted fantasy, a lure to trap his prey. He exploited the dreams and aspirations of young women.
Wilder was put on probation in 1980 after pleading guilty to attempted sexual battery towards a teenage girl. A pattern of violence, a history of abuse. The system failed to protect his victims.
While on a visit home to Australia that same year, he was charged with kidnapping and sexually assaulting two teenage girls. His crimes spanned continents, his depravity knew no bounds.
His parents bailed him out of jail and he flew back to the United States, promising to return for his trial which was set for April 1984. He fled justice, continuing his reign of terror.
He is also a suspect in the Florida disappearances of Rosario Gonzales, Elizabeth Kenyon, and Tammy Leppert. Other names added to the list of the missing, the murdered, the forgotten.
He was killed during a shootout with authorities in 1984. The darkness finally caught up with him. But his victims remain, their stories unfinished, their lives cut short.
Mary’s case remains unsolved. A cold file, a lingering question. Did Wilder take her? Or was there someone else? The darkness keeps its secrets close.
The ghost girls of Fort Myers. Their stories haunt the Florida landscape, a reminder of the darkness that lurks beneath the surface. They were young, they were vulnerable, and they were taken too soon. Their lives were cut short, their dreams unfulfilled. They deserve to be remembered, not just as names in a file, but as human beings who lived and breathed and had hopes for the future.
The darkness never sleeps. It waits, it watches, it preys on the weak. It’s a constant battle, a war that’s fought every day in the shadows, in the forgotten corners of our cities. And sometimes, the darkness wins.
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