Marina Krim looked around the ballet studio. Her daughter, Lucia, aged six, wasn’t there, nor was her two-year-old son, Leo. The New Yorker had arranged with their nanny to meet them at 5:30 that afternoon. Krim called the woman, and texted. “Where’s Lulu?” “Donde estas?” “Where are you?”
Clutching her middle daughter’s hand, Krim arrived home to her luxury Upper West side apartment to find the lights off, the rooms within silent. Marina checked with the building’s doorman, but he hadn’t seen her children leave. As the pair rushed from room to room, Krim noticed a crack of light beneath the bathroom door.
“I’m like, ‘Oh God, it’s so quiet in here, oh God. Why is it so … quiet?’” Krim told the New York Supreme court, according to TIME. “And I open the door … And I open the door, oh God!”