Lizzie Kunde
Thirty years later, Pasco girl's disappearance still a mystery
Thirty years ago today, Wendy Huggy phoned her grandparents in Pasco County from Countryside Mall to tell them she was getting a ride home from a friend. They never heard from her again. The couple reported the 16-year-old missing, but finding nothing to indicate foul play, authorities surmised Huggy had disappeared by choice. They closed the case after just 15 days.
Three years later, in 1985, when Huggy's grandparents still hadn't heard from her they inquired about the case again. That's when deputies began to suspect that something untoward may have taken place.They looked at the case again, but crucial time had been lost.
Today, the scant details of what is known about Huggy's disappearance are tucked inside a Pasco County sheriff's case file that through the years has passed through the hands of eight different investigators. One detective made it an obsession, trying to solve the case until the day he died. These days, the assumption is that Huggy is dead, her body likely among those of thousands of unidentified homicide victims. It hasn't diminished efforts to find her.
Wendy Huggy came to Florida looking to rebuild. Though she was only 16, she left behind a husband in her native Illinois. The marriage was an unhappy one, and she intended to leave him for good, her family said. She moved in with her grandparents, Sidney and Paula Richards in Holiday. She had dropped out of high school, but she wanted to pass a GED test, said her aunt Patty Spragg. Her hope was to attend beauty school. She had a plan. All she needed was a place to enact it. "She was a darling little girl and I loved her," said Spragg, 59, of Hudson.
Huggy's mother, Susan Leverence, was a former Playboy bunny. In the 1970s she lived for a time at the Chicago Playboy mansion and traveled the country in Hugh Hefner's Playboy jet as one of the elite "Jet Bunnies."Leverence, who later worked as a flight attendant for Air Wisconsin Airlines, was often away for long periods of time, unable to devote attention to her daughter. So Huggy came to Florida. "She had a rough life bouncing back and forth between her mom and my parents," Spragg said. "But to me she didn't seem any different than any other child." But there was something else, Spragg said. Something few people knew and no one talked about. Huggy was pregnant.
Huggy had lived in Florida for two months when she disappeared. Her grandparents dropped her off the morning of April 7, 1982, a few blocks from the Patrician Apartments at Nursery and Belcher roads. She planned to meet up with her uncle, Greg Richards, who was five years her senior and lived in the apartment complex, according to a sheriff's report.
After that, the details become murky. At some point, Huggy met with a friend named Kim and Kim's mother, who also lived at Patrician Apartments, deputies said. They went to Clearwater Beach. Then, Huggy got a ride to Countryside Mall, where she called her grandfather. She didn't need him to pick her up, she told him. A man named Don was going to bring her home. A week later, with no word from her, Huggy's grandparents reported her missing. But the case was closed when deputies learned she was married — a fact that made her a legal adult, free to run away if she chose.
Published Apr. 6, 2012 By Dan Sullivan Times staff, Tampa Bay Times:
Three years later, in 1985, when Huggy's grandparents still hadn't heard from her they inquired about the case again. That's when deputies began to suspect that something untoward may have taken place.They looked at the case again, but crucial time had been lost.
Today, the scant details of what is known about Huggy's disappearance are tucked inside a Pasco County sheriff's case file that through the years has passed through the hands of eight different investigators. One detective made it an obsession, trying to solve the case until the day he died. These days, the assumption is that Huggy is dead, her body likely among those of thousands of unidentified homicide victims. It hasn't diminished efforts to find her.
Wendy Huggy came to Florida looking to rebuild. Though she was only 16, she left behind a husband in her native Illinois. The marriage was an unhappy one, and she intended to leave him for good, her family said. She moved in with her grandparents, Sidney and Paula Richards in Holiday. She had dropped out of high school, but she wanted to pass a GED test, said her aunt Patty Spragg. Her hope was to attend beauty school. She had a plan. All she needed was a place to enact it. "She was a darling little girl and I loved her," said Spragg, 59, of Hudson.
Huggy's mother, Susan Leverence, was a former Playboy bunny. In the 1970s she lived for a time at the Chicago Playboy mansion and traveled the country in Hugh Hefner's Playboy jet as one of the elite "Jet Bunnies."Leverence, who later worked as a flight attendant for Air Wisconsin Airlines, was often away for long periods of time, unable to devote attention to her daughter. So Huggy came to Florida. "She had a rough life bouncing back and forth between her mom and my parents," Spragg said. "But to me she didn't seem any different than any other child." But there was something else, Spragg said. Something few people knew and no one talked about. Huggy was pregnant.
Huggy had lived in Florida for two months when she disappeared. Her grandparents dropped her off the morning of April 7, 1982, a few blocks from the Patrician Apartments at Nursery and Belcher roads. She planned to meet up with her uncle, Greg Richards, who was five years her senior and lived in the apartment complex, according to a sheriff's report.
After that, the details become murky. At some point, Huggy met with a friend named Kim and Kim's mother, who also lived at Patrician Apartments, deputies said. They went to Clearwater Beach. Then, Huggy got a ride to Countryside Mall, where she called her grandfather. She didn't need him to pick her up, she told him. A man named Don was going to bring her home. A week later, with no word from her, Huggy's grandparents reported her missing. But the case was closed when deputies learned she was married — a fact that made her a legal adult, free to run away if she chose.
Published Apr. 6, 2012 By Dan Sullivan Times staff, Tampa Bay Times:
