On the morning of August 23, 1937, a young mother named Dorothy Lucas stepped out into the warm summer streets of Chicago with her three-month-old baby daughter, Diane, nestled safely in her stroller. Like many mothers, Dorothy was running errands and stopped at a local grocery store.
Believing she would be gone for only a moment, Dorothy left Diane in her stroller just outside the shop while she went inside to pay. It was a decision that would change her life forever.
When Dorothy returned only minutes later, the stroller was still there—but Diane was gone.
Panic swept over her. Neighbors gathered. Police were called. Within hours, the story of the missing baby spread across Chicago. Officers searched streets, homes, and hospitals. Newspapers printed Diane’s photo, and the city held its breath as a terrified young mother waited for news.
For nearly 23 agonizing hours, there was nothing.
Then, police received an anonymous tip. The caller calmly told them exactly where to find the baby. Acting quickly, officers went to the location—and there, safe and unharmed, was baby Diane. She was returned to her family, healthy and untouched.
The city breathed a collective sigh of relief.
But the mystery didn’t end there.
A few days later, the Lucas family received a letter in the mail. It was written by a woman who claimed to be 28 years old. In the letter, she confessed to taking Diane.
She explained that she had recently lost both her husband and her baby, leaving her completely alone and devastated. When she saw Diane unattended outside the store, something inside her broke. Overcome with grief and longing, she took the baby, intending to raise her as her own.
However, the letter said that after reading newspapers and seeing Dorothy’s pain and desperation, she could no longer go through with it. She realized that taking Diane had caused unbearable suffering to another mother. So she arranged for the anonymous tip that led police to Diane.
The woman never gave her name and was never identified.
She ended the letter with a line that stunned readers and later became famous:
“My only crime, if you can call it that, was having too much motherly love.”
The case remains one of the strangest and most emotional stories in Chicago’s history—a reminder of grief, desperation, and the powerful, sometimes dangerous pull of love.
Baby Diane grew up safely with her family, and the woman who took her disappeared into history, leaving behind only a letter—and a haunting question of what truly drives the human heart.