Hey, before you start this episode, it'll make more sense if you've listened from the

beginning of this season.

So you might want to do that now if you haven't.

Thanks.

We're going to take it, right?

So now you tell us who you want us on the grass.

Oh, no, we have to refresh in the camera.

Excuse me.

A group of old friends is leaning in.

Arms intertwined, posing for a picture.

This is an unofficial mini high school reunion, a little backyard cookout.

A handful of people are here, former students and teachers from Spingar in high school,

a public school in the northeast part of Washington, DC.

It's been closed for a few years now, but it was a tight knit school when most of the people

at this mini reunion passed through its halls in the late 80s and early 90s.

Most of them were at Spingar right around the time that a student, a senior, an 18-year-old

named Keith Jackson just didn't show up for class one day.

By all accounts, Keith was a quiet guy.

People I talk to remember him as a fiddler of pencils, a lover of basketball, usually

wearing a sweatsuit.

His mom worked two jobs for office cleaning companies.

His dad was out of the picture.

...