Mother pleads for return of daughter

Livery driver recounts well-rehearsed plan

The mother of the missing 7-year-old Reigh Storrow Mills Boss made an extraordinary public plea directly to her former husband yesterday, as the livery driver who unwittingly acted as a get-away driver revealed for the first time the meticulous planning that went into the abduction, and the lies he said he was told to take part in it.

Sandra Boss, ending her public silence since her daughter's kidnapping Sunday afternoon near the Public Garden, appeared on a video posted on the Boston Police Department's website. Looking directly into the camera and speaking in a soft, trembling voice, she pleaded with Clark Rockefeller to bring back their daughter, who goes by the nickname "Snooks."

"Clark, although things have changed, you will always be Reigh's father, and I will always be Reigh's mother," she said, as she sat at a table, hands resting in front of her, a black curtain behind her. "I ask you now, please, please, bring Snooks back. There has to be a better way for us to solve our differences than this way."

Boss recorded her plea yesterday at the Four Seasons Hotel where she has been staying since she arrived from London on Sunday with her daughter. They had flown into Boston so the girl could see her father during a supervised visit with an independent social worker.

But during the visit, Rockefeller and the girl were whisked away in a black sport utility vehicle, setting off an extraordinary hunt to New York and the high seas, where police at one point believed Rockefeller may have sailed for Peru or Bermuda.

Yesterday, the driver of the sport utility vehicle, 54-year-old Darryl Hopkins described a well-rehearsed plan in which he was duped into whisking Rockefeller and his daughter away from the social worker supervising their visit.

During an interview at the Boston office of his lawyer, Geoffrey G. Nathan, Hopkins said Rockefeller, who didn't have a driver's license, had paid for rides several times in the past. One morning last week, while Hopkins drove Rockefeller to New York City for what Rockefeller described as a board meeting, Hopkins heard him talking on his cellphone, complaining to an unknown person about a male friend who would not leave him alone.

Then, after he got off the phone, Rockefeller asked Hopkins how he was doing financially. When Hopkins told him he was behind on mortgage payments, Rockefeller said "he might have an interesting job for this weekend."

Rockefeller offered Hopkins $1,000 to show up in his SUV in the Boston Common area on Sunday, pick up him and his daughter, and drive away from the man who had been harassing him.

Rockefeller said he and his daughter would be having breakfast with the man that morning, but he feared he would not be able to get away from him unless Hopkins helped him.

Hopkins, who said that in his business he has helped female customers flee drunken men they met in bars, was not suspicious.

"I'm thinking, I'm trying to help my friend Clark who's trying to help me out of financial straits, doing something as innocent as getting rid of somebody who is a pain in the butt," he said.

So Saturday at about 8 p.m., Hopkins and Rockefeller met near the Boston Common to go over a plan.

Rockefeller paid Hopkins $1,000 in cash and Hopkins agreed to show up around 11 a.m.

After they got away from the man, Rockefeller said, Hopkins would drive him and his daughter to Newport, where Rockefeller claimed he had a lunch date with the son of a prominent Rhode Island politician.

The next day, Hopkins double-parked on Marlborough Street and killed time reading a book.

After 45 minutes passed, Hopkins sent Rockefeller a text message: "On the way?"

A minute later, Rockefeller responded: "Not yet. You on the location?"

At about 12:30, Hopkins, who had the engine running, saw Rockefeller, his daughter, and a man walking toward his car.

He pretended not to look at them. Moments later, he heard the door of his SUV open.

In his haste, Rockefeller shoved his daughter in the car so hard, she hit her head on the door frame. Once they were inside, Hopkins peeled away as the man tried to open the door.

Hopkins tried to focus on the road, but looked back in the rearview mirror and saw the man rolling on the ground.

Police would later say that the man tried to hang onto the car and was dragged several feet, but Hopkins said he does not remember that happening.

He turned on Berkeley Street, and drove on to Storrow Drive. In the backseat, Reigh was whimpering over her bruise.

"I smashed it really hard," she said, crying softly. A few moments later, Hopkins pulled up on Garden Street, where he saw a taxi idling across from a convenience store. Rockefeller told him to drop them off so he could take the cab to Massachusetts General Hospital and have Reigh's bruise checked out.

He told Hopkins to park nearby and wait for his call. Nearly two hours passed, but Hopkins never heard from Rockefeller.

Later that afternoon, he heard the Amber alert and learned the man Rockefeller was trying to flee was a social worker.

"Oh my God, what have I gotten myself into?" Hopkins recalled thinking. "I just trashed my life for chump change."

In her appeal yesterday, Boss, 41, appeared composed but fatigued. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and as she spoke, she clasped her fingers nervously and glanced at notes.

"Reigh, honey, I love you," she said. "I miss you so much. And remember, you're always a princess."

Police have not charged Hopkins with a crime and said he has cooperated fully with authorities.

"He really appears to be an unwitting accomplice," said Elaine Driscoll, spokeswoman for the Police Department.

After Hopkins dropped off Rockefeller and his daughter, the pair got a ride with a friend to New York City. Yesterday, the FBI said that Rockefeller may be using a passport with the name Michael Brown and that he may have died his blonde hair "orangey-red." He may have also cut his daughter's hair so that she looks like a boy, the FBI said.

Hopkins, the father of a 13-year-old girl and a 22-year-old woman, said he hopes his story will make people think twice when they are offered what appears to be an easy way to make money.

"You need to step back and take a look," he said.

Maria Cramer can be reached at mcramer@globe.com.