It was a little windy that March morning in Hope Mills, North Carolina.

Spring was just around the corner on a crisp, dry day.

In a ranch-style house on Macdonald Road, Kent Jacobs pulled on a familiar weekend uniform.

His black Harley Davidson sweatshirt and his black sneakers.

Kent and his mom had a Sunday routine.

She would head to church.

He would take a walk.

Usually Kent turned right onto Macdonald, and a quarter mile later made a left, passing

mobile homes and patches of woods.

Along this stretch of country highway, it was common to see Kent walking alone.

And people knew him by his dark hair and ready grin.

And each farm road, Kent would make another left.

It was a few miles, at least three or four miles.

But it was a well-worn path for him.

You know, it was always the same, always the same.

That is Kent's brother, Keith Jacobs.

He says Kent's destination on his weekend walks was a place close to Kent's heart.

The neighborhood where Kent grew up.

Where he could hang out with his childhood friends for a few hours.

Kim Baber is Kent's sister.

I'm just saying Kent is all you had to say.

Everybody knew who he was.

...