I remember the ribbons tied around the trees and posts in the Leesburg, Virginia apartment complex where I lived with my mother and younger sister in 1994.

They were hung for a boy, the son of the apartment complex as maintenance man.

Victor Shoemaker was a tall, quiet man who seemed to be as much a part of the place of the playground, the pool, or the brick facade of the buildings.

On a weekend off, Victor had taken his family, his wife, Nettie, and their five-year-old

son, Victor Jr., who they called J.R., to visit family in the mountains of nearby West Virginia.

Victor and Nettie returned, but J.R. would never see his home again.

When a person goes missing, there's a special kind of pain in the not knowing.

I want to tell the stories of those who never came home.

I want to tell you the story of Victor Dwight J.R. Shoemaker.

I'm Conan Gallagher.

And I'm Ethan Flick.

And this is, and then they were gone.

Music Jay or Shoemaker had just turned five on March 30th, 1994.

An only child, he loved hanging out with his older cousins, 8-year-old Lloyd Wolford,

and 9-year-old Tommy Martin, and running around the woods his older cousins, eight-year-old Lloyd Wolford, and nine-year-old

Tommy Martin, and running around the woods on Short Mountain, where his step-grandfather,

Oscar Wolford, lived.

Now, you know, we have a young one.

We have a three-year-old and two older boys, and you can imagine.

I mean, so, so J.R. was five.

His cousins were eight and nine. I mean, he must have been in

absolute heaven, just running around with them. Now, where did you say that they lived?

...