"I Am Her Voice" – The First Thirty Nights Without Kassandra

The First 48 Hours—And the Floor Drops Out

They say the first 48 hours are the most critical when someone goes missing.

Nobody tells you that after 48 hours, the floor simply drops out of time.

My daughter Kassandra Briana Ramirez left her cousin Tory's apartment on Melrose Avenue in the Bronx at 11:40 p.m. on September 19, 2018—just 3 days before my birthday.

I wasn't aware she was stepping out to talk with her ex-boyfriend, John "Kilo" O'Brien. I was later told he convinced her to meet him because he wanted to give her money so she could buy a gift for my grandson E. for his upcoming birthday.

She never came back.

Reporting a Missing Person in the Bronx: My Experience

I called 9-1-1 before sunrise. Tory got worried when she didn't return the next day. Tory called his mom, and she informed me Kassie had not been heard from since the 19th.

I was in the hospital for a medical condition and had just had a biopsy. I left the hospital on a mission. I needed to find my daughter.

The officer who first took the missing person report wasn't very nice. I was bounced from one officer to another and two sergeants who were convinced she was "with a dude."

"She's 25. Maybe she needed space."

When I didn't back down, they came back with a file folder and asked me:

"Did you know Kassie had a record?"
"Did you know she used drugs?"

As if her life meant less because of her situation. She was missing, and they were blaming her.

I told them: "You don't understand—today is my birthday. She wouldn't leave me. She and her siblings were always there at midnight, calling to be the first to say 'Happy Birthday.'"

At this point, I would have settled for a "Hey Mom, it's Kassie. I'm okay, sorry I messed up."

I repeated that Kassie had a five-year-old son, a new culinary job waiting, and that she would never abandon her little boy on his birthday week.

Missing Women of Color: The Media Gap

The report was finally filed, but I still have the original officer's half-hearted effort burned into my memory.

Worse yet, he stated: "Look, if she were a kid, male, or let's face it…" as he shrugged his shoulders, "NOT Latina—the news would be all over this."

Those echoed words became the soundtrack of Week One.

This is the reality for missing Latina women, missing Black women, and missing Indigenous women across America. Brown girls are expected to disappear quietly.

Week One: A Mother's Relentless Search

By Day 7, I was pushing flyers into laundromats with a foot injury, still recovering from the biopsy that couldn't heal properly from my efforts the week before, and a heart that felt stapled together.

I'm disabled—nerve damage in my spine makes every step feel like walking on glass. I have a total tendon injury in my hand, neuropathy in both legs, and partial neuropathy in my hand.

But pain has a hierarchy, and mine didn't matter.

I stapled Kassie's smile to every store that allowed me to post between 161st Street and Hunts Point.

Media Coverage for Missing Persons: Breaking Through

As for media:

Bronx 12 did a segment after I reached out
Telemundo 47 and Univision 41 covered our story—both Latino community outlets
Our family in Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic found out before even our NYC neighbors

I was grateful for independent podcasts that included Kassandra's story, including Unfound. Through them, I met Rose Cobo—a woman whose story mirrored mine. We even shared the same missing person detective. We have bonded greatly because her own daughter Chelsea has been missing a year longer than Kassie.

Eventually, ABC-7's "Missing" series asked why a young mother who had just testified before a grand jury about a sexual assault could vanish without an Amber-style alert.

The segment aired on May 4, 2023—almost five years later—but it validated what I already knew:

Brown girls are expected to disappear quietly.

Day 14: Building a Community

I created the Facebook page "Missing Kassandra Ramirez—Bronx NY" (now called Find Kassandra Ramirez).

Within hours, hundreds of strangers shared her story.

One message broke me:

"My daughter's been gone since 2016."

The stories shared with me felt like living a Lifetime movie special. I kept looking for the director to say "CUT" and see Kassie walking towards me.

Day 21: The Investigation

I met with a private investigator. He told me the NYPD had not yet pulled surveillance from the subway station where Kilo claimed he dropped her.

I called One Police Plaza feeling defeated.

I hung up with a promise:

"I will be her voice until she can speak for herself."

Day 30: Still Counting, Still Waiting, Still Hopeful

I update her Facebook page Find Kassandra Ramirez as often as I am able.

I often state: "If she was forever silenced, I will forever speak."

Living with Ambiguous Loss

Thirty days. 720 hours. 43,200 minutes of pure ambiguity.

Do I mourn?
Is she gone?
Is she hurt, hungry, waiting for me to rescue her?
Have I failed her?

All questions that break me—every single one, every single time.

I have no reassurance from man, but I have Peace that only God can provide.

To Every Family Searching

If you are reading this as a family member of a missing person, know this:

You are not alone.

Your loved one matters. Their story matters. And I see you.

I am still counting, still waiting, still hopeful.

—Ingrid Santana-Ramirez
Mother of Kassandra Briana Ramirez, missing since September 19, 2018