By Denise Gee Peacock

On New Year’s Day 2011, Dr. Noelle Hunter was approaching hour three of waiting in a Morehead, Kentucky, McDonald’s—the agreed-upon meeting place for her ex-husband to return their 4-year-old daughter, Maayimuna (“Muna”)—when she knew something was terribly wrong.

Little did she know Muna’s father had taken her 5,000 miles away to live with his family in their native country of Mali, West Africa, despite Dr. Hunter, having been granted sole custody of her.

While it took more than three years for Hunter to get Muna home, during that time the university professor would learn so much: Chiefly, just how much understanding law enforcement needs to know about the complexities of international parental child abduction (IPCA)—the proactive efforts needed to avoid it, and quick actions necessary to stop it in its tracks.

Hunter’s journey of IPCA understanding began with her local police department. “They told me my problem was a civil matter, a domestic dispute; that I needed to get a court order before they could do anything,” she shared with symposium-goers. “One good thing they told me was to contact the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children (NCMEC). And that’s when I learned that federal law mandates that any child under age 18 must be entered into the National Crime Information Center (NCIC) database within two hours of being reported missing.”

NCMEC reached out to Morehead authorities to inform them of their obligation to enter Muna into NCIC. They also advised Hunter to directly contact the FBI for assistance. After learning that Muna had indeed been taken to Mali, she was connected with the U.S. State Department.

Hunter learned her ex-husband had accomplished the abduction by obtaining a passport for Muna in Mali, where she had dual citizenship because of her father (“which I had never taken into account; I thought as long as I had her passport she would have to stay in the U.S.”) She also learned about the Hague Convention on the Civil Aspects of International Child Abduction (aka the Hague Abduction Convention), a treaty in which its signatories commit to returning abducted children to their rightful guardian. But while the U.S. is a signatory, Mali is not. They had no obligation to return Muna to her. And meanwhile, the country was in the throes of a government coup.

Desperate yet determined, Hunter immersed herself into a relentless “Missing 4 Muna” campaign to get her daughter home. She read everything she could about IPCA; talked with legal experts, many of whom offered to help her pro bono; navigated the cultural nuances of working with Mali officials; staged protests in front of Mali’s embassy in Washington, D.C.; pleaded with United Nations members; helped create a nonprofit organization to assist other IPCA families; and worked with a congressional delegation from Kentucky to pressure the Mali government to safely return Muna in 2014. By then she was almost 7.

Hunter now works as an assistant professor of political science and philosophy at University of Alabama in Huntsville, which houses the program she founded: the International Child Abduction Prevention and Research Office (ICAPRO). From there, she and her daughters—Muna and her sister, Rysa Lee, advocate for IPCA awareness and support.

“Most of the parents still seeking their children are committed to doing whatever it takes to bring them home. But as I learned, we can’t do it alone,” Hunter said. “That’s why I’m glad this symposium exists, and that all of you undertake full-court-presses of your own to help find missing children and get them home where they belong. Remember, all abductions are local.”

At first glance, a photo of Dr. Noelle Hunter’s daughter, “Muna,” savoring an ice cream cone might be one of many impromptu images of joy a mother cherishes. But as symposium-goers learned, the photo holds special significance–both for Dr. Hunter and law enforcement. Here’s the story Dr. Hunter shared about it:

During my mission to get Muna home from West Africa, I was constantly traveling from Kentucky, where I lived at the time, to Washington, D.C., knocking on every door I could. It was exhausting work. On one drive home, I was particularly distraught, and wasn’t really paying attention to my speed. So because I was speeding, I was pulled over by a Maryland State Trooper. He took one look at me, and said, “What’s wrong?” So I told him. Everything. He then started trying to help, asking if I’d talked with the U.S. State Department, if I’d done this or done that. I told him yes—I was doing everything I could.

At that point he said he wouldn’t write me a ticket, but added, “Promise me two things. That you’ll slow down and and get home safely. And that when your daughter returns home, make sure her first ice cream is courtesy of a trooper in Maryland.”

So that's what you see in this photo: that trooper’s gift to her—and me.

I think that’s significant at a conference like this. Please consider that local law enforcement support is crucial for a parent experiencing IPCA. A little grace never hurts either.