Lost 3-year-old found safe at home; community rallies
By PAT FRIDGEN Echo Pilot

Timmy Dowd, 3, spent four hours between the storage shed and the garage wall (shown behind him in this photo) while his grandparents and rescue personnel looked for him Sunday.

The mind of a 3-year-old operates in its own unique fashion. Timmy Dowd Jr., accidentally got crayon marks on his pillowcase and sheets. Thinking he would get in trouble, he hid the pillow in the closet and hid himself in the garage.

When he called out to his grandparents, with whom he was staying for the first time, no one answered. He fell asleep, standing between a molded storage shed and the garage wall in their Antrim Township home. He was unaware of the nightmare his slumber would cause Harry and Brenda Bell.

A lost boy

Sunday afternoon was pleasant as the Bells worked in their yard at 9575 McClanahan Road. Timmy was in and out of the house to the fenced backyard. A neighbor offered the Bells some mulch and Harry went to get it. When he returned, Brenda walked across the lawn to talk to the friend. From her line of vision, she could see the road and the backyard.

Home again, she asked Harry where Timmy was. He said, "Up in his room."

He wasn't.

"I was fine then," said Brenda.

She knew their grandson liked to play hide-and-seek. They both looked through the house, including the basement and a cursory check of the garage. They called his name.

Panic set in. Harry drove up and down the road. Brenda looked two places she had taken Timmy, one neighbor's swimming pool and another's horse corral. Neighbors came over and searched the residence and garage.

They called 911 at 2 p.m., no more than 15 minutes after Timmy went missing.

A Greencastle police officer responded. Greencastle Rescue Hose Company arrived with about 15 personnel. They immediately searched the house and garage, using thermal imaging cameras.

"I opened the shed that he was behind," Brenda recalled.

They checked neighboring homes, trunks of all vehicles in the vicinity, all water hazards in the farm country.

The Pennsylvania State Police came, as well as helicopter support.

A command post was established. The rescue crews worked together. Mike Luger, RHC Deputy Fire Chief, called in mutual aid from Mont Alto, Marion, Waynesboro and Mercersburg.

"All of a sudden tons of people showed up," said Brenda. "They were genuinely concerned."

She estimates anywhere from 200 to 400 people were prepared to search, including local folk on horseback and residents living on nearby roads. Some started in the nearby fields.

"It was amazing. I can't believe how fast a community can pull together, not even knowing you."

Brenda handed out photos of Timmy, taken the previous night at the Fireman's Carnival in Greencastle.

Luger kept his people back while waiting for bloodhounds to arrive.

"Instead of contaminating the house again, we pulled everyone outside."

The command post strategized the search pattern in case the dogs couldn't pick up Timmy's scent. They prepared for the worst, with daylight ending in a few hours.

A woman's intuition

Brenda felt some relief when the authorities took over. She was impressed with how organized they were and knew to secure danger areas in case the little boy would wander to them in the commotion.

Still, she always believed Timmy was close by.

"We're missing something," she kept saying. Because of her vantage point earlier, she knew he could not have left the yard.

A state trooper trained in talking to families in crisis insisted he be the one to notify Timmy's parents about his disappearance. Since Harry and Brenda were so distraught, they agreed.

The officer went into the garage at 5:30 to call Tim Dowd in Pittsburgh. Unbeknownst to them, Timmy awoke to hear him.

At 6:15 the three were sitting at the kitchen table. Harry went to the door leading to the garage to feed their dogs. He grabbed his chest and said, "Oh my God. He…he…he…"

Brenda looked up, thinking he was having a heart attack.

There stood Timmy, knocking on the glass, calling, "B, let me in, let me in."

They hugged and kissed the little child. He was unharmed except for pressure marks on one cheek from the wall of the shed. Brenda grabbed him and ran outside. The crowd cheered.

The search dogs enroute were cancelled. The people dissipated in high spirits. Peace settled upon the rural area.

In the ensuing hours the Bells were able to delve into Timmy's mindset.

"I was crying and you didn't come," he told them. "I was scared and fell asleep."

He stayed hidden after seeing the officer on the phone. He was afraid of the helicopter and the police.

"I just want a Juice Box," he said.

The trooper called back Tim Dowd with the good news. He decided to stay in Pittsburgh, feeling in no condition to drive. He spoke to his son several times that night. And he decided not to tell his wife Chrissy and two daughters about the frightening day until Wednesday night, when they returned from a dance convention in New York City. He didn't want to ruin their vacation, and the Bells would have brought Timmy home by then.

It was only on Monday morning that Timmy finally talked about the crayon marks.

Justin Reed, a neighbor who did not know the Bells and searched his property, echoed the reaction of everyone, "It had a happy ending."

Brenda encourages anyone in a similar nightmare to call 911 immediately.

"Don't wait. They know what to do. Then listen to them."

And as for Timmy? "He hasn't been out of our sight since."