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Susan and Jenny fought earlier that night. It was nothing unusual for this mother and year-old daughter. But that Tuesday in July of was different. Words were spoken that would not be easily forgotten. Jen, which is what Susan had called her for years, had stormed off to her room, slamming the door with an anger that Susan had not seen before.

Jen was in continual contact with them via her phone and laptop. She wanted to go out, but Susan told her no, she was to stay home that night. A tall, thin, stunningly beautiful girl, Jen was sure she was overweight and that her classmates were out to get her. Earlier in the summer, Susan had engaged the help of both a psychiatrist and a therapist, and she was having Jen randomly drug tested. But the daughter continued her defiant behavior — stealing money, not sticking to curfew, and sneaking out of her bedroom at night.

Their relationship became even rockier as the summer wore to a close. School started. Jen was bright and had earned good grades up until that year. But calls from the school began and were becoming more frequent, not just about her skipping days but also about her behavior when she was in attendance.

Susan was sure she was using drugs. One morning that fall, Jen walked out of her room carrying a bag and announced she was moving in with her girlfriend. After another draining argument, Susan relented and agreed she could go. Susan knew the friend, Alisa, and also knew her mother, and she knew where they lived and how to reach them. Susan told Jen she would not turn her phone off as long as Jen answered her calls and texts within a reasonable amount of time. Susan, divorced and a single mom for years, was also the mother of a year-old daughter who had already married and moved out.

Susan, always passionate about her girls, would much rather go to a movie with them or have their friends over than go out with her own friends. She had recently left a career as an executive to be home more for her younger daughter during her teenage years. Her current position allowed her to work from home and have more control over her schedule — but now her youngest was gone, at least for a while, probably until she was tired of Alisa and her family.

It all went well for a few days. Jen was returning calls and responding to texts. But then something happened. She set an alert for 9 a. Again, the next evening, the same location appeared. It looked like it might be a hotel. Susan called her daughter. Jen said her friends had pooled together some money to celebrate her birthday. They just wanted to get away for a few nights, Jen said. Susan decided she was worrying too much. Susan probed her younger daughter again. The other girls vouched for Jen.

It was just a weekend outing for a birthday celebration. The next week the school started calling again, saying Jen was absent. Another GPS search that evening brought up the same cryptic location. A appeared more than 50 times with calls that never lasted longer than a few minutes, including incoming and outgoing. Susan searched Facebook but no match. A Google search brought back the usual — Whites. At first Susan thought it was a video game. It was primarily black, but it had the typical search cue with a magnifying lens.

Susan pasted the same phone into the search engine. A picture appeared.

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There she was, a young girl, in a thong, bent over a bed, the picture taken from the back so all you could see was her rear. Susan spent the next five hours trying to find someone to tell her what to do. Phone call after phone call — some transferred her, some told her to file a police report, and one agency representative in Austin said she was sorry and hung up. The Fort Worth police department sent an officer out to speak with her. Susan waited, angry, crying, embarrassed, hurt, but, more than anything, afraid.

The policeman connected Susan with the lone detective who worked sex trafficking in Fort Worth. But the detective convinced her that that would result in one of three outcomes: Jen would be murdered, Jen and Susan would be murdered, or Jen would totally disappear, possibly never to be found. For the next two long weeks, when Susan talked to Jen, she said nothing out of the ordinary.

Then one day, Jen came home. She found a time when she was alone in the hotel room. She picked up what few belongings she had and ran barefoot to a nearby IHOP restaurant and called a friend to come pick her up. She said the others were nice to her and had tried to protect her from the bad one. Having recently read a short clip in the local paper about sex trafficking in Fort Worth, I decided I wanted to learn more. Perhaps there was a story there.

Before my first meeting, I expected maybe a handful of attendees. I was surprised to walk into a room with about 75 people, some in suits, some in shorts. That meeting was also when I first met Susan.

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We were in a breakout session together and ended up sitting by each other. At first I thought she was a volunteer assisting victims. She quickly set me straight. Susan is educated and well spoken, and she brought a presence to the room.

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She lives in Fort Worth, lives and raises her girls in an upper middle-class home, has a nice car, and has a dog and a cat. She is, in all respects, normal. One of the [Homeland Security] agents who had worked with my daughter and me waved me to an open space next to her. There were about 40, 50 people in the room.

As I walked to my seat, I found myself wondering where were all these people the day I needed them the most? We were all asked to introduce ourselves and say why we were attending. My heart leapt, and my fear and anxiety rose as the individuals began introducing themselves one by one. What was I going to say? How would I explain why I was there? When my turn came, I took a deep breath.

I stood, said my name and that I was the mother of a survivor. My voice quavered, and tears ran down my face. What only took a moment seemed like an eternity and took all my strength to do. I sat quickly, and the person next to me handed me a napkin. There was a moment of silence in the room, and then the process continued. I had crossed a major milestone in my own recovery and taken my first step toward becoming an advocate.

Inshe met with former chief Jeff Halstead to ask permission to work with other peace officers throughout Tarrant County to respond to minor sex trafficking. Interest grew, she said, until the group was formalized in January The taskforce is now an arm of Fort Worth police and is represented by approximately 45 agencies. Trafficking is an equal-opportunity employer. In my experience, the majority of victims are tricked into the initial situation. Many at risk youth like having a new boyfriend or at least someone willing to take care of them in some way.

After trust is built, then the trafficker begins to turn the tables. Sex trafficking is one type of human trafficking. Human trafficking also includes coersion into labor. From tothe Polywood Crips operated a sex trafficking ring on the East Side near the Polytechnic Heights neighborhood, near where the taskforce meets.

The gang posted videos on Facebook which provided instructions on how to pimp. Nine suspects were recently convicted in federal court, some now serving up to 30 years in prison. Twenty-two victims were identified during the nine-month investigation. Cases in Fort Worth are surging: 26 already from January through April, compared to 28 in all of Greater community awareness and more resources focused on sex trafficking partly explain the increase, according to Grantham.

I have sat and listened to their Fort worth city sex phone chat. Much more commonly, a youth, often with unmet physical or emotional needs, is tricked into trafficking by someone who pretends to care about her. Perhaps after several weeks or even months, after he develops a high level of trust with her, he will suggest she have sex with someone to help with the rent. And it goes from there, often involving violence and threats against her or her family if she tries to leave. Trafficking victims may be any age, race, or economic status.

They come from good neighborhoods as well as disadvantaged areas. It was a Saturday night in October, early in the school year, and Megan had no homework. In her room, bored, she began trawling the web on her laptop. Then something caught her eye. She logged on. It was a dating site. A few nights later, she logged on again and made contact with a handsome young man, maybe not much older than she. Careful not to tell him her address, she agreed to meet him that next weekend at a local fast food restaurant. Before long, he convinced her that all of her problems would disappear if she would only move in with him.

She did. A typical day for Megan consisted of answering calls, having sex, smoking, eating, sometimes taking showers, and sleeping when she could. I was sitting there. He left the room because he got mad and was gone for a while. I took a trash bag, put my clothes and soap and stuff in it, and ran for the stairs. I was so scared he would come back and catch me. We work with the Fort Worth police on a regular basis. Letters from young survivors are posted on Traffick

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