Outside Samantha Runnion's condo, the courtyard was all chaos and paradox. Children played hopscotch and older boys rode skateboards while news crews on deadline frantically interviewed the growing crowd. Photographers with long lenses vied for position.

Parents were crying and hugging their children. People were kneeling, praying, crossing themselves, and lighting candles, many, many candles. Amid the din in English, Spanish, and Vietnamese, I heard strains of The Lord's Prayer.

Five-year-old Samantha, kidnapped two days earlier while playing on that same sidewalk in Stanton, California, would not be coming home alive. At her residential complex, the vigil became a wake, the yard commandeered for sacred space. The mourners quickly erected a makeshift altar of massive floral displays punctuated by butterfly balloons, American flags, and windmills. Children brought mounds of new stuffed animals and even left their favorite worn toys. Religious statues and votive lights spread onto the sidewalks, ...