Dear Jacob

"We’re going to need a recent picture of Jacob," Detective Mund told us.

I got up and took his framed fifth-grade photo off the wall. He was wearing his favorite yellow sweater, which complemented his deep blue eyes.

"Will this work?" I asked. "It’s from last year. They haven’t gotten their new school pictures back yet."

I took the photo out of the frame and handed it to him. Removing Jacob’s picture from the cluster of school pictures on the wall felt horrible. The blank space only made it more jarring and obvious that one of our children was missing.

Next, the investigators wanted to see Jacob’s room. I was almost afraid to let them go in there because, suddenly, it seemed so personal—even sacred. This was where Jacob and Trevor slept, played with their friends, talked to their parakeets Polly and Petey, and got ready for school. Now it felt like a crime scene. Could Trevor even go in there anymore? Was I supposed to keep people out? How do you “crime-scene-ize” your child’s bedroom?

They also needed clothing he had recently worn for the search-and-rescue dogs that would be coming. My boys were awesome in their messiness, so Jacob’s dirty clothes were strewn together on the floor with Trevor’s. It took a little while for me to isolate something that was just his.