PARMA, Ohio — In a city where pink flamingos have become more than just a symbol, the theft of another seven-foot statue sparked a wave of outrage and sadness. On Friday, June 6, 2025, a iconic statue dedicated to four-year-old Avi, the granddaughter of local resident Dennis Vasko who lives with nonverbal autism, disappeared from the intersection of Broadway Road and Snow Road. This crime, echoing a similar theft from last year, not only offended the community but also made Parma reconsider how to protect its symbols in an era when even charitable gestures become targets. While police promise to find those responsible and the city prepares a replacement, the flamingo story exposes deeper issues of civic pride and vulnerability.
A Symbol That Unites
The flamingos in Parma are more than decorative birds. Their history dates back to the 1960s, when plastic flamingos became a symbol of kitschy suburban charm. For Parma, a city with a population of 80,000, these statues became mascots embodying resilience and local identity. In 2020, the first metal statue appeared near the "Parma" sign in Anthony Zilenski Park, funded through donations in memory of breast cancer victims. In April 2025, two new statues—one a gift from Vasko for his granddaughter—were installed with hopes of strengthening this connection. “Ava loves flamingos,” Vasko told Parma News 5. “Her joy from them is what inspired me to donate $2,000.”
But the joy was short-lived. On Friday, the statue on Broadway disappeared, leaving only an empty plinth and broken hearts. “It feels like a personal insult,” said Mayor Tim DeGitter. “This isn’t just metal, it’s a symbol for a child, for a family, for our city.” On X, users expressed anger: “Who steals a flamingo dedicated to a child with autism? Parma deserves better,” writes @ParmaPride.
Déjà Vu of a Theft
The 2025 theft is not the first. In May 2024, another flamingo near the “Parma” sign was stolen by three young men—Taylor Paul Pupkevich, Marcus Anthony Boue, and David Ross Burak. The suspects, caught on camera, attempted to shove the statue into the trunk but left it damaged. All three pleaded guilty to vandalism, receiving 180 days of probation, fines of up to $5,000, and 5,000 hours of community service, including 2,500 hours supporting cancer-related organizations.
This high-profile case prompted Parma to tighten statue protections, but as the recent theft shows, it was not enough. “We live in a world of cameras,” DeGitter noted. “Hiding an eight-foot flamingo is difficult.” Parma police, known for their efficiency, are already analyzing footage from cameras at the intersection and nearby businesses, hoping to quickly identify suspects.
State representative Sean Brennan, who initially thought the news was a joke, expressed disappointment. “This isn’t a school prank,” he said. “Our police are forced to divert from serious crimes to look for flamingos. It’s a disgrace.” Brennan, a Democrat actively promoting local initiatives such as recognizing walleye as Ohio’s official fish, sees the theft as a challenge to community unity.
Why Flamingos?
The motive for the theft remains a mystery. Some speculate it was an prank by graduates, as June is graduation season. “It might be a stupid joke, but I no longer trust anyone,” Brennan admits. Others, like Vasko, suspect deliberate malice. “They did it to a child who can’t defend herself,” he said. “Return it, and we’ll forget about it.” The statue, valued at $500, has greater sentimental than material value, making the crime especially cynical.
Local activists on X suggest that repeated thefts reflect a broader problem: a lack of respect for public property in suburbs where petty crimes, like recent robberies in Parma Heights, have become common. However, DeGitter dismisses pessimism, emphasizing community strength. “Parma is a city where people care about each other,” he explained. “We won’t let a few thieves overshadow our spirit.”
Future Plans
The city is moving quickly. A spare flamingo statue, stored for emergencies, will be installed at the intersection by the end of the week. DeGitter also announced a surveillance camera directly above the new flamingo to prevent further thefts. “We’re learning from our mistakes,” he assured.
The theft comes at an inopportune moment: in 2026, Parma will celebrate its 200th anniversary, and flamingos will be the central theme of the festivities. “It will be bright, shocking, Parma-style,” promises DeGitter, hinting at festivals, parades, and possibly new statues. Local businesses, like the recently opened Jimmy John’s on Broadway, are already preparing to join the celebration, hoping for an influx of tourists.
Despite the disappointment, Vasko remains hopeful: “I want Ava to see her flamingo again,” he said. “I believe Parma police will do everything they can.” He urged the thieves to surrender, warning that delaying will only worsen their situation. “You have hurt the entire city. It’s not worth it.”
Deeper Context
The story of flamingos in Parma is more than a chronicle of petty crimes. It’s a tale of a community fighting for its symbols in times when even innocent gestures become targets. Parma, like many American suburbs, balances nostalgia for the past with a desire for renewal. The growing population of Cleveland, according to the 2024 census, offers hope for regional economic revival, but incidents like these remind communities of the challenges they face along this path.
While Parma awaits the return of its flamingo, the city prepares for new battles—for safety, for unity, for the right to remain true to itself. “The flamingo will return,” DeGitter promises. “And we will be stronger.” For Avi and thousands of other Parma residents, these pink birds are not just statues but symbols of hope that no one can steal forever.
