After Tyra Heath

After Tyra Heath

By Kanon Beltran

Many people remember the names Ashley Estell of Plano, Amber Hagerman of Arlington, Christi Meeks of Mesquite, or Christie Proctor of North Dallas. Their stories are seared into North Texas history. But years before Amber Alerts existed, before missing children appeared on milk cartons, before communities developed the tools we now take for granted, Dallas County was shaken by the disappearance and murder of six-year-old Tyra Heath in the summer of 1979. At that time, outside of the police department, neighbors could do little more than print flyers, knock on doors, and hope for a miracle.

News Clip from University of North Texas – Tyra Heath 

Today, the Cascade Park Apartments in Mesquite look like any other aging complex. The paint fades in the summer sun; the buildings have cycled through several colors and owners. From the street, there is nothing to suggest the heartbreak that unfolded here more than four decades ago. Yet this quiet complex holds the memory of one of Mesquite’s darkest moments—the story of Tyra Heath.

A Summer Afternoon Turns Tragic

Tyra Heath. Photo courtesy Internet included in accordance with Title 17 U.S.C. Section 107.

June 25, 1979 was a warm, seemingly ordinary day. Children filled the courtyards and sidewalks, enjoying their freedom from school. At apartment #1051, six-year-old Tyra Heath stepped outside to play, just as she had countless times before. Ten minutes later, when her mother, Janice Heath, called her home, Tyra didn’t answer. A quick search revealed she had vanished.

In the days that followed, rewards totaling $15,000 were offered for information. The Mesquite Police Department, joined by the FBI, canvassed the neighborhood repeatedly. Residents were interviewed again and again. Officers searched creeks, fields, and alleyways—on foot, horseback, even by helicopter. Homemade posters filled the community. A photo of Tyra was broadcast on KXAS-TV on June 29 in hopes that someone, somewhere, had seen something. But no solid leads emerged.

Tips poured in, but many were inconsistent or impossible to verify. Mesquite PD pursued everything—every rumor, every whisper, even a psychic reading. Still, nothing.

A Break in the Case

On July 5, an anonymous caller changed everything. The tipster named James Richard Harris, a 25-year-old sanitation worker from Seagoville who lived in the same complex as Tyra. Harris had told family members that Tyra had been playing with his son, that the back door had been left open, and that she must have run out. He even participated in the searches.

The caller disputed his account and provided precise information about where Tyra’s body could be found—an area in South Mesquite, just off Pioneer Road. After a lengthy search, officers discovered her remains exactly where the tipster described.

Harris voluntarily went to the police station when asked, but became visibly agitated and refused a polygraph. He was arrested and charged with murder, held on a $200,000 bond in the Dallas County Jail.

Clip from University of North Texas – James Richard Harris

Three days later, on July 8, while at Dallas Police Headquarters for questioning in unrelated offenses, Harris abruptly announced he wanted to confess to Tyra’s murder. A Dallas homicide sergeant called in a Mesquite officer to take the statement, and Harris was soon indicted.

It was not the ending anyone had hoped for, but it brought the Heath family at least a measure of closure. Tyra was laid to rest at Kaufman Cemetery.

A Community Changed Forever

Those who lived in Mesquite in 1979 still remember the fear that settled over Cascade Park Apartments after Tyra’s death. Children once free to roam the courtyard now stayed close to home. Parents abandoned the once-common practice of letting kids wander next door or down the block. Mesquite—like Dallas before it—lost a sense of innocence that summer.

And the tragedy did not stand alone. Mesquite would face another devastating child disappearance six years later, and another fourteen years after that. But in 1979, Tyra’s case was one of the most widely known in North Texas, even if her name has faded from public memory today.

Remembering Tyra

The suspect is found. Courtesy Dallas Morning News

Forty years later, few outside Mesquite recall the name Tyra Heath. Unlike Amber Hagerman or Ashley Estell—whose cases reshaped national policies—Tyra’s story has slipped into the quiet corners of history, remembered mainly by those who lived through that terrible summer.

The Heaths appear to have no public social media presence, and one can hardly blame them. The weight of such tragedy is not something everyone chooses to carry publicly.

But those who remember know the truth: Tyra mattered. Her life, though short, shaped a community. Her story is a reminder of a time before systems existed to protect missing children—a time when families and neighbors had only hope, determination, and each other.

Tyra Heath should not be forgotten.

Tyra Heath’s Grave, courtesy FindAGrave.com

Kanon Beltran

I ask that  you respect Tyra in your comments