CLEVELAND — One neighbor said a naked woman was seen crawling on her hands and knees in the backyard of the house a few years ago. Another heard pounding on the home’s doors and noticed plastic bags over the windows.
Both times, police showed up but never went inside, neighbors say. Police also paid a visit to the house in 2004, but no one answered the door.
Now, after three women who vanished a decade ago were found captive Monday at the peeling, rundown house, Cleveland police are facing questions for the second time in four years about their handling of missing-person cases and are conducting an internal review to see whether they overlooked anything.
City Safety Director Martin Flask said Tuesday that investigators had no record of anyone calling about criminal activity at the house, but were checking police, fire, and emergency databases.
The three women were rescued after one of them kicked out the bottom portion of a locked screen door and used a neighbor’s telephone to call 911.
‘‘Help me. I’m Amanda Berry,’’ she breathlessly told a dispatcher in a call that exhilarated and astonished much of the city. ‘‘I’ve been kidnapped and I’ve been missing for 10 years and I’m, I’m here, I’m free now.’’
Berry, 27, Michelle Knight, 32, and Gina DeJesus, about 23, had apparently been held captive in the house since their teens or early 20s, said Police Chief Michael McGrath.
A 6-year-old girl believed to be Berry’s daughter was also found in the home, said Deputy Police Chief Ed Tomba. He would not say who the father was.
Three brothers, ages 50 to 54, were arrested. One of them, former school bus driver Ariel Castro, owned the home, situated in a poor neighborhood dotted with boarded-up houses just south of downtown Cleveland. No immediate charges were filed.
A relative of the three brothers said their family was ‘‘totally shocked’’ after hearing about the missing women being found at the home.
Juan Alicea said the arrests of his wife’s brothers had left relatives ‘‘as blindsided as anyone else’’ in their community. He said he had not been to the home of his brother-in-law Ariel Castro since the early 1990s, but had eaten dinner with Castro at a different brother’s house shortly before the arrests were made Monday.
The women were reported by police to be in good health and were reunited with family members but remained in seclusion.
‘‘Prayers have finally been answered. The nightmare is over,’’ said Stephen Anthony, head of the FBI in Cleveland. ‘‘These three young ladies have provided us with the ultimate definition of survival and perseverance. The healing can now begin.’’
He added: ‘‘Words can’t describe the emotions being felt by all. Yes, law enforcement professionals do cry.’’
Police would not say how the women were taken captive or how they were hidden in the same neighborhood where they vanished.
Investigators also would not say whether they were kept in restraints inside the house or sexually assaulted.
Four years ago, in another poverty-stricken part of town, Cleveland’s police force was heavily criticized following the discovery of 11 women’s bodies in the home and backyard of Anthony Sowell, who was later convicted of murder and sentenced to death.
The families of Sowell’s victims accused police of failing to properly investigate the disappearances because most of the women were addicted to drugs and poor.
For months, the stench of death hung over the house, but it was blamed on a sausage factory next door.
In the wake of public outrage over the killings, a panel formed by the mayor recommended an overhaul of the city’s handling of missing-person and sex crime investigations.
This time, two neighbors said they called police to the Castro house on separate occasions.
Elsie Cintron, who lives three houses away, said her daughter once saw a naked woman crawling in the backyard several years ago and called police. ‘‘But they didn’t take it seriously,’’ she said.
Another neighbor, Israel Lugo, said he heard pounding on some of the doors of the house in November 2011. Lugo said officers knocked on the front door, but no one answered. ‘‘They walked to the side of the house and then left,’’ he said.
‘‘Everyone in the neighborhood did what they had to do,’’ said Lupe Collins, who is close to relatives of the women. ‘‘The police didn’t do their job.’’
Police went to the house twice in the past 15 years, but not in connection with the women’s disappearance, officials said.
In 2000, before the women vanished, Castro reported a fight in the street, but no arrests were made, Flask said.
In 2004, officers went to the home after child welfare officials alerted them that Castro had apparently left a child unattended on a bus, Flask said.
No one answered the door, according to Flask. Ultimately, police determined there was no criminal intent on his part, he said.
Castro, 52, was well known in the neighborhood. He played bass guitar in salsa and merengue bands. He gave children rides on his motorcycle and joined others at a candlelight vigil to remember two of the missing girls, neighbors said.
They also said they would sometimes see him walking a little girl to a neighborhood playground.
Tito DeJesus, an uncle of Gina DeJesus, played in bands with Castro over the last 20 years. He recalled visiting Castro’s house but never noticed anything out of the ordinary, saying it had very little furniture and was filled with musical instruments.
‘‘I had no clue, no clue whatsoever that this happened,’’ he said.
Also arrested were Castro’s brothers Pedro, 54, and Onil, 50.
Ariel Castro’s son, Anthony Castro, said in an interview with London’s Daily Mail newspaper that he now speaks with his father just a few times a year and seldom visited his house. He said on his last visit, two weeks ago, his father wouldn’t let him inside.
‘‘The house was always locked,’’ he said. ‘‘There were places we could never go. There were locks on the basement. Locks on the attic. Locks on the garage.’’
Many of the women’s loved ones and friends had held out hope of seeing them again,
For years, Berry’s mother kept her room exactly as it was, said Tina Miller, a cousin. When magazines addressed to Berry arrived, they were piled in the room alongside presents for birthdays and Christmases she missed. Berry’s mother died in 2006.
Just over a month ago, Miller attended a vigil marking the 10th anniversary of Berry’s disappearance.