Live To Tell: The Year We Disappeared

A Little Girl Is Terrorized When A Killer Wants Her Entire Family Dead

Imagine being 9 years old and learning that someone wants to kill your family. That's what happened to Cylin Busby when she was growing up in Falmouth, Massachusetts.

Cylin's father, John, was a cop who refused to be intimidated -- even by a thug suspected of one murder and two disappearances. But one summer night in 1979, John Busby was ambushed and gunned down.

With the shooter at large, his young family had to run for their lives. Cylin, now grown up, tells a story of revenge and the long-awaited justice that no one could predict.

CYLIN BUSBY: Imagine being nine years old and learning that someone wanted to kill you... your dad... your brothers... and your mom. That's what I found out when I was nine years old.

It all began on a perfect summer day. It was the end of summer, August. It was hot, sunny, not a cloud in the sky. And we spent all day at the beach.

And everything was ideal until that night, when everything changed.

KELLIE COLLIER-DRISCOLL: My uncle was a police officer, and he worked the midnight shift.

CYLIN: My dad left for work just like normal. He hadn't gone probably half a mile from our house when a car pulled up behind him, pulled out alongside him and he was shot through the driver's side window of his car with a shotgun.

The shotgun blast tore through his face and ripped off his lower jaw.

KELLIE : Before he lost consciousness he wrote: Not an accident. He realized that they were trying to kill him and he feared for his family's life.

CYLIN: On that summer night, my childhood ended. I was never alone again. We were guarded 24 hours a day. Everybody had a gun.

KELLIE : We were fenced in.

CYLIN: We had an attack dog. We had a sniper on the roof with a long-range rifle.

KELLIE: You couldn't go out.

CYLIN: I had hidden a steak knife under my mattress and I would just lay there and listen. I just knew that the people who shot my father were not going to stop until we were all dead.

Next door to our house there was an old graveyard. It sounds morbid, but it was actually this beautiful place to go and play. There were these old trees that were perfect for climbing, and a grassy lawn to play tag and hide and seek. We spent a lot of time over there.

Falmouth, Mass., was the ideal place to grow up. Every summer day, we'd get up in the morning. My mom would pack a lunch. And we would head out to Old Silver Beach. By the end of the summer we'd all be brown as berries and just relaxed and happy.

That summer it was me, my two older brothers, Eric and Sean. My dad. My mom. My mom was studying to be a nurse. And then my cousin Kellie who was helping out my parents to take care of us kids. She was there to have fun, but babysitting was how she earned her rent.

My father was a police officer. In his uniform, my dad looked incredibly handsome, I thought. He looked like a movie star to me. He seemed invincible.
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