Tense searches for missing loved ones

Among the hundreds of missing persons displaced by Harvey’s wrath was Greg Connelly, a bipolar schizophrenic who left his parents’ house in Pearland, near Houston, last week just as Hurricane Harvey struck the region.

For more than three days, Connelly’s family had no idea where he could be and could not begin a meaningful search with the heavy rain and

flooding. Finally, on Tuesday, a family friend spotted him in the background of a television news segment about evacuees at George R. Brown Convention Center.

A photo of Connelly was quickly distributed among the volunteers at the missing person’s center — somber face, long nose, receding hairline. To some, he looked like Vladimir Putin.

Houston police and volunteers with Texas Center for the Missing are fielding hundreds of reports of people split from their families since Harvey’s arrival. Their efforts are centralized within the massive convention center that has emerged as a Grand Central Station for thousands of displaced people across the region.

Often, the search for

missing persons during major weather events begins at the makeshift shelters that take in evacuees, said volunteer Sari Obermeyer, who did the same sort of work in Houston when evacuees from Hurricane Katrina began to arrive in 2005. Every clue, especially a picture, can help, she said.

Identifying someone missing shelter is no easy feat. Many have endured trauma with antsy children to care for, pets to walk and bills to pay. Officials at George R. Brown have tried to register evacuees upon arrival, but they haven’t gotten them all.

“The biggest issue is we have no central communications or database of all the folks who have been evacuated into all these shelters,” said Beth Alberts, CEO of Texas Center for Missing Persons. “Everybody is overwhelmed.”

In Connelly’s case, Obermeyer had distinct features to look for, and she had a clear search area. She and her colleagues scoured the faces and combed the halls of the convention center halls, searching for anyone who resembled the Russian prime minister.

“I had it in the back of my head that he was in here somewhere,” she said. And suddenly, there he was, the man who looked like Vladmir Putin.

Obermeyer was headed out the door of one of four high ceilinged convention spaces packed with cots. Connelly was headed toward the food tables nearby.

Obermeyer greeted him, and then led him to the triage center where he was seen by medics. She went back to check on him a few times in that area, knowing that his sister’s home had been cut off by flooding and she couldn’t make it to him right away.

But Connelly became scared and wandered off hours later, setting off another search. He never left the convention center and was located in time for the arrival of his sister, Kara Flores.

She hugged him and thanked the officers and volunteers. Wiping tears from her eyes, she phoned her mother.

“I have Gregory,” she said. “Mom, I’ve got Greg. He’s gonna talk to you. Hold on.”

She handed the phone to her brother, who was overcome with emotion.

“Hey, mom,” he said, “Can I come home?”