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Many people must figuratively find themselves to acquire comfort. Steve Carter, however, has needed a literal application to secure solace. Curiosity last year drove the resident of the 700 block of St. Albans Street to research his life, with his sleuthing revealing a 34-year distinction as a missing child. His odyssey has proven empowering and has him hoping to determine his past’s influence on his present.
The six-year Bella Vista dweller may appear to have a normal name and a conventional existence, including a blossoming 11-month marriage to wife Tracy and a position with a medical software company, but truth trumps perception. Carter actually carries two legal names, owns three birth certificates and celebrates two birthdays.
“These have been interesting months,” he said Friday of the increments since he started to match his Hawaiian origins with his local continuance. “I am in awe of having to try to comprehend everything.”
Carter, 35, entered the world as Marx Panama Moriarty Barnes, the son of Charlotte Moriarty and Mark Barnes of Hau‘ula, Hawaii. Their time in the paradisiacal 50th state turned turbulent June 21, 1977, when the mother and 5-month-old child failed to return from a shopping outing. Because of his partner’s penchant for spending extended time away, Barnes devised a search only after nearly three weeks had passed. Those days have become a mysterious stretch, yet Carter, through contact with Hawaiian officials, has since January 2011 obtained solutions to some inquiries. He has learned a woman, who dubbed herself Jane Amea in interactions with police, broke into another female’s home and, upon her discovery, offered a new birth date and name, Tenzin Amea, for her offspring. Carter’s half-sister Jenny Monnheimer, who was an 8-year-old New Mexico resident set to meet her sibling that July, noted nobody has confirmed the intruder’s identity, though she believes her mother was the offender.
“It may have been, though the chance is small, another woman possibly took Marx from Char and ran to the other side of the mountain,” she said via e-mail.
His mother’s placement in a psychiatric hospital put Carter in protective care. Once Moriarty fled, he became a ward of the state. As police missed a chance to mesh the situation with Barnes’ report, Carter ended up in an orphanage, speaking pidgin, a fusion of languages indicative of his contemporaries’ linguistic diversity.
“I didn’t speak English right away, but I’ve more than made up for that, especially lately,” Carter, whose newfound celebrity has even led to a piece in People, said jokingly.
He beamed when speaking of Sept. 23, 1981, or “Come To Be Our Boy Day,” the fortunate date on which Steve and Pat Carter, stationed in Oahu because of the former’s Judge Advocate General’s Corps status, adopted him.
“They had wanted a Caucasian baby, and people thought they were crazy for seeking one in Hawaii, but there I was,” Carter said.
The family relocated to Clarksville, Tenn., soon after, residing there until the youngest member, now William Steven Tenzin Carter, turned 9. The trio then flocked to Medford Lakes, N.J., which Carter dubbed “storybook quaint. Though his new surroundings were short on drama, he knew his beginnings teemed with confusion, including the fact it took a year to create his first birth certificate, which bore Tenzin Amea as his appellation.
Thoughts on his biological family surfaced, but contentment with his state prevented investigations. His attitude changed in January ’11 when he read that Carlina White had solved her 1987 kidnapping from a New York hospital. He consulted missingkids.com, the website for the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children and located a composite image of what Marx might have looked like at 28. The creation stunned Carter, who deemed it an appropriate rendering. “That shot started it all for me,” he said.
An October DNA test provided good news and ushered Carter into a whirlwind of activity that has yielded phone calls to Barnes and Monnheimer and increased concern for Moriarty, whose whereabouts remain unknown.
“There is still so much to be found out,” he said.
Monnheimer exercised her inquisitive nature 10 years ago, when her relatives’ situation had become a dormant dilemma.
“I learned through my father that the Attorney General’s office in Hawaii obtained some monies through a grant and had opened a Cold Case Unit,” she said. “Because of funding issues, they evidently weren’t taking many cases. We wrote to them outlining why we felt the Cold Case Unit should consider their case; it must have raised some significant questions because they decided to take it.”
Her persistence helped authorities to devise the image. Based in Alexandria, Va., the center, which debuted in ’84 under the Missing Children’s Assistance Act, annually addresses about 800,000 missing children reports, with a 97 percent recovery rate, including more than 400 long-term cases. Though his story counts as a success and he will advocate for the agency’s work, Carter chose not to rush to make use of the results.
“I had extreme hesitation about contacting anyone,” he said. “After all, there is no handbook on interacting with lost relatives.”
Reaching out to his first family, though, has bred a healthy amount of mutual wonder and regard.
“When you have people you love go missing, there is a part of you that needs to believe they are no longer living because it’s so painful, yet, at the same time, you can’t shut the door completely because hope is extremely powerful,” Monnheimer said.
Talks with his sister have fostered preliminary plans to unite for a summer Hawaii excursion.
“It will be interesting to try to build relationships with my existing family and blood relatives,” Carter said.
He has not firmed up future interactions with his father, who also has two daughters, and has refrained from holding any hostility, choosing to have facts guide him.
“I can’t jump to conclusions,” he said. “I am looking to have court records opened so I can gather more information.”
He knows he has a loving sibling, who is hoping Carter will join her in trying to determine Moriarty’s fate.
“I feel very protective and connected and very much like a big sister,” Monnheimer said. “It’s beyond anything I thought could happen to be in my lifetime.”
Carter abstains from dwelling on what his life might have included had his summer stroll not occurred. He focuses on what will come, such as running in Sunday’s Broad Street Run and celebrating his first wedding anniversary next month. Having beaten skin cancer five times, he knows nothing can daunt him.
“Each day is an opportunity,” he said, “and I’m eager to learn.”
Contact Staff Writer Joseph Myers at jmyers@southphillyreview.com or ext. 124.
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