Robert Stolarik for The New York Times
 The   Suffolk County Police Department searched for  remains on Thursday   along Ocean Parkway. Eight women’s bodies have been  found in the area. 
          
    
 New York Times
April 7, 2011
    
                   
   To those who loved them, the four prostitutes were daughters, sisters,    friends. To the person or persons who killed them and dumped their    bodies in the desolate brush off Ocean Parkway on Long Island, they were    disposable.
     
                 
  
Lee Ferris/Poughkeepsie Journal
 In Poughkeepsie, N.Y. Kendall L. Francois admitted killing eight prostitutes in the late 1990s.
                       
           
   
Mike Albans/Associated Press
 On Long Island, Joel Rifkin, shown in 1993, confessed to killing 17 prostitutes.                            
           
   
Pool photo by Elaine Thompson
 Gary   Ridgway, shown in Seattle in 2003, said he  killed 48 women. "I picked   prostitutes because I thought I could kill as  many of them as I  wanted  without getting caught,” he said in court.                              
           
       
       
 Reuters
      
 The four bodies found on Long Island in December were identified as those of former prostitutes.                            
                The four young women discovered off Ocean Parkway near Gilgo Beach —    Megan Waterman, 22; Melissa Barthelemy, 24; Maureen Brainard-Barnes,  25;   and Amber Lynn Costello, 27 — vanished between July 2007 and last    September. Each disappearance drew little or no notice. It took the    prospect of a serial killer, and the subsequent discovery of four more    bodies, for that to change.        
    The investigation was set off by the disappearance of Shannan Gilbert   in  May. Ms. Gilbert, 24, of Jersey City, was last seen in a seaside    residential community a few miles from the first four bodies, and she is    still missing. Ms. Gilbert was a prostitute, but much more: She was  an   aspiring actress, and the oldest of Mari Gilbert’s three daughters.           
  In an interview, Mari Gilbert said the police failed  to  protect her  daughter and, along with the press and the public, did  not  take her  disappearance seriously until she became part of Long  Island’s  latest  serial-killer case.        
  “I think they look  at them  like they’re throwaway,” Mari Gilbert said in  a phone  interview on  Wednesday. “They don’t care.”        
  Living in  the margins of  society, often trading sex for money with  anonymous  clients in  anonymous places, struggling with drug addiction  and  estrangement from  their families, prostitutes have long been   invisible, vulnerable prey  for the wicked and the depraved. Few notice   them when they are alive,  fewer still when they are missing or found   dead.        
  The  quarter-mile stretch where the four women  were found is 23 miles  from  where another prostitute, Tiffany  Bresciani, 22, was found wrapped  in a  blue tarp in the back of a  pickup truck in Mineola in 1993, and  about  30 miles from where yet  another prostitute, Kelly Sue Bunting, 28,  was  discovered in a trash  bin in Melville in 1995. Ms. Bresciani was   strangled by Joel Rifkin,  an unemployed landscaper who confessed to   killing 17 prostitutes. Ms.  Bunting was one of the victims of Robert   Shulman, a former postal  worker convicted of killing and dismembering   five prostitutes.        
   In Poughkeepsie, N.Y., Kendall L.  Francois admitted strangling and   murdering eight prostitutes from 1996  to 1998, and storing their bodies   in the home he shared with his  family. In a courtroom in Seattle in   2003, Gary Ridgway, the so-called  Green River Killer, who admitted to   killing 48 women, seemed, when a  prosecutor read his statement of  guilt,  to be speaking for all serial  killers throughout the decades  and  centuries who have victimized  prostitutes.        
  “I also  picked prostitutes as victims  because they were easy to pick up   without being noticed,” Mr. Ridgway  said in his statement. “I knew they   would not be reported missing right  away and might never be reported   missing. I picked prostitutes because  I thought I could kill as many  of  them as I wanted without getting  caught.”        
  On  Thursday, a Suffolk County police  spokeswoman said the search for   evidence and additional bodies would  expand over the Nassau County line   starting Monday. Richard Dormer, the  Suffolk police commissioner,  told  reporters that the search of the  brush and grassy dunes on the  Suffolk  side was about to be completed.  The police have no immediate  plans to  return to the Suffolk area,  though Mr. Dormer left open that   possibility. He had a message for what  he described as women in the   escort business: “They should be very  careful with their contacts.”          
  The oldest profession is  also one of the most deadly. The  bodies of  dozens, perhaps hundreds, of  murdered prostitutes — women,  men and  transgender people — have been  found in New York, New Jersey  and  Connecticut since 1990.        
   “It really feels like  there’s just an open war against this  population,”  said Sienna Baskin,  a lawyer and co-director of the Urban  Justice  Center’s Sex Workers Project,    which provides legal and social services to New York City sex  workers.   “I think it makes all sex workers feel vulnerable to  violence. Even if   they’re working in a safe way, they live in a world  where this happens   regularly. From sexual assaults to stalking to  theft to police   brutality, these are really daily experiences that  many sex workers   face.”        
  On Dec. 17, six days after the  first body was  found on Long Island,  former and current prostitutes  and their  supporters gathered at the  Metropolitan Community Church of  New York on  West 36th Street for a  candlelight vigil. The names of 70  sex workers  killed in 2010 in the  United States and around the world  were read, as  part of the seventh  annual International Day to End  Violence Against  Sex Workers. People  took turns reading the names: of Amy Lynn Gillespie of Pittsburgh and Monta K. of Berlin and Alicia Lee of Las Vegas and dozens more.        
    Audacia Ray, 30, helped organize the vigil. Ms. Ray is a former New   York  City sex worker who, like the four women found on Long Island,    advertised for clients on Craigslist.    “It’s always frightening,” Ms. Ray said of the Long Island case. “It    feels like that could have been me. It could have been one of my    friends.”        
  Before she retired about five years ago, Ms.   Ray took precautions. She  would call a friend on her cellphone when she   arrived at a date with a  client. Her friend on the other line already   knew the address, and Ms.  Ray made it a point to make the call in  front  of the client. Ms. Ray  would tell her friend what time she would  call  back when the date was  over. If she did not call back at the  appointed  time, the friend would  wait 10 minutes and then call her. If  Ms. Ray  did not answer, the friend  was instructed to call the police   immediately.        
  “Sex workers often work in isolation   because of the criminalized status  of the work, but I don’t think sex   workers live in isolation,” said Ms.  Ray, now program director for the Red Umbrella Project,    which helps sex workers tell their stories publicly. “There’s an    assumption that if your life has gotten that bad, you’re expendable.    That’s not true. A lot of people do care. We’re just not listened to.”           
  After her daughter went missing in late 1996, Patricia   Barone, 67, tried  to get news media outlets in Poughkeepsie to cover   the story. Most  declined. The body of her daughter, Gina Barone, 29,   was discovered  nearly two years later, in September 1998, in Mr.   Francois’ ramshackle  house a block from Vassar College.        
    Patricia Barone is raising her daughter’s child, who turns 17 next    month. Gina Barone is buried in Poughkeepsie. The priest who baptized    her in 1968 is the one who offered her funeral Mass in 1998.        
    “If one Vassar College girl was missing, we would have had cops all   over  the place,” Patricia Barone said. “Every one of these women is    somebody’s child, and people don’t kind of get that. Your children are    your children no matter what they do out there.”        
     Nate Schweber and Tim Stelloh contributed reporting.