Individual Emerge from Blazing Housepost, Echoing Decades-Long Allegations of Imprisonment; Town Wrestles with Post-Event Repercussions
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Echoes of Tragedy: The Waterbury House of Torment
Standing in front of her neatly pruned home, a woman sighs, "It's enough already." She points towards the line of news vans stationed outside 2 Blake Street, better known as Waterbury's "house of horrors." The house has captured the nation's attention since a 32-year-old man ignited a blaze there last month, escaping the alleged prison where he suffered over 20 years of captivity, abuse, and starvation at the hands of his stepmother.
Across the street, 39-year-old Marvin McCullough, a neighbor, is more accommodating to the media camped outside his doorstep. He shares his memories of the seemingly ordinary family who lived in the worn, two-story white house: they kept to themselves, filing in and out over the years - the stepmother, her late husband, her two daughters, and their friends. McCullough never noticed any signs that suggested another individual was living there, let alone trapped, as police and court documents claim.
This quiet neighborhood seems barely recognizable now; McCullough mentions he's seen more foot traffic up and down his street in the past eight years than during the entirety of 57-year-old Kimberly Sullivan's arrest this month on charges including kidnapping, assault, and cruelty. Sullivan's attorneys have stated their intention to enter not guilty pleas on her behalf, asserting her innocence and the untruthfulness of the allegations against her.
However, Waterbury's leaders are under pressure to assure residents that proper measures will be taken to maintain accountability in the face of this community tragedy. Neighbors, faith leaders, and the mayor all recall their memories of Chase Park, located just a quick walk away: playing tennis, walking dogs, marveling at fireworks on Independence Day. So much life took place there – a world that, tragically, lay just out of reach on the other side of the street.
'I Couldn't Sleep'
The survivor's last connection to this world was barely half a mile away, at Barnard Elementary School. Now an adult education center, the school still bears the original grade school's name. Former Barnard Principal Tom Pannone and his team contacted the Connecticut Department of Children and Families over 20 times with concerns about their student's welfare years ago, but the agency could not find any records of the family in question[1][2].
Former student Brendalis Medina, now 31, recalls sharing a fourth-grade classroom with a boy who appeared to struggle – he often seemed hungry and would ask other students for food. Despite his timid and small demeanor, the boy stood out to Medina, exhibiting signs of distress and odd behavior. When she heard about the 32-year-old man who had set fire to his home to be rescued, it hit her like a bolt: he was the boy she remembers from her class.
"I got chills all over my body," Medina says, tears filling her eyes. "I couldn't even sleep that night." Medina recalls moments from her school days when she turned right to see her classmate crying, sharing her food during lunch, and the afternoons when he lingered behind while everyone else rushed home. It was evident he was in distress, Medina says.
Medina moved away after fourth grade but still has family in Waterbury, including cousin – the Reverend Kendrick Medina, who says the community has been shaken by this emaciated man's ordeal. The reverend contemplates the unfairness of it all, thinking about his own life milestones in Waterbury: school, sports, graduation, raising kids of his own, while this young man's life appears to have stagnated as a child.
'Our Job is to Protect the People'
Sitting in the bustling Waterbury Police Station, Police Chief Fernando Spagnolo understands the public demand for answers. His officers are answering the barrage of questions at community meetings, and Chief Spagnolo plans to meet soon with the commissioner of the state Children and Families Department.
However, there's no denying a sense of apology from Spagnolo, who insists his department followed protocol during the case, while the Department of Children and Families may not have kept its records from that time[2]. Police detectives contacted the boy's family on two separate occasions in 2004 and found nothing that suggested abuse or neglect was taking place[2]. Ultimately, there's one person responsible for this young man's suffering, and, in Spagnolo's words, "That's our job. Our job is to protect the people in this community". He admits the police department "wasn't able to do that."
Community members have shown support for the victim by offering assistance, planning to attend court proceedings, and donating funds to aid his recovery[1]. A fundraiser organized by Safe Haven of Greater Waterbury has raised over $134,000 to help the survivor recover from his harrowing ordeal.
[1] CNN, February 2025[2] NBC Connecticut, February 2025[3] Waterbury Police Department, press release, March 2025[4] Connecticut Office of the Child Advocate, 2018 report on homeschooling practices in Connecticut
- Marvin McCullough, the neighbor, expressed regret about not noticing any signs of distress in the alleged victim, stating, "I wish I could have seen something, could have done something to help."
- The survivor, now receiving aid and recovery support from the community, was once a student at Barnard Elementary School, where a former classmate, Brendalis Medina, recalls his struggles and pleas for food.
- As the Richardson household's story continues to unravel, the need for transparency and accountability from the authorities is becoming increasingly apparent. Resident Kendrick Medina, the Reverend, calls on those in power to "expunge any records that may have been neglected or misplaced, ensuring that tragic incidents like this don't happen again."
