Four years ago, on a hot Thursday afternoon in Anaheim, Jessie Char sat down for a Dole Whip in Disneyland while her friends went to the bathroom. When they got back she was gone. No note. No ransom demands. A few months ago, I got a call. “I’m back.” No explanation. We met at a diner. She was wearing a Minnie Mouse outfit. And an eyepatch. Her first words were “We’re recording next week.”


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