Hey everyone, it’s Paul. Today—April 26—marks a very special birthday in my life. It’s special because it used to be my birthday, but it no longer is. To be more precise, April 26, 1964, is the day the real Paul Joseph Fronczak was born in Michael Reese Hospital in Chicago. Just one day later—before he’d even had the chance to spend a full day on earth—Paul was taken out of his mother’s arms by a kidnapper dressed up like a nurse. He got to spend about 30 minutes in his mothe

I recently got a note from someone who asked me a simple question. “What is your actual goal when you put posts on Facebook?” she wrote. “There are many people out there who follow you. What do you actually need?” Her note made me think about the real reason for keeping up a Facebook page devoted to my case, and for recently starting a website, too. The truth is, there isn’t just one reason—there are several. I guess the main reason is that I want to keep my story as fresh as

For just about all my life, I’ve been called Paul. It’s the only name I can remember being called. Back in the mid 1960s, Paul was the 16th most popular boy’s name. Today, it is only the 244th most popular name for a boy. Still, it’s a great name and there have been many great Pauls—Paul Newman; Paul McCartney; Paul Bunyan. But for me, I’ve just never felt like a Paul. I know that sounds strange, but it’s true—I’ve always had a feeling that I wasn’t really a Paul. The name ju

I came up against a lot of obstacles in the course of trying to learn my identity and find the real Paul Fronczak. But the most powerful obstacle of all was time—or more specifically, the passage of time. The Baby Fronczak kidnapping happened more than 50 years ago. That’s a long, long time. Over the years, important records vanish, people pass away, and bit by bit the past just disappears. When you’re trying to uncover and recreate events that happened half a century earlier