Hey everyone, it's Kona and Ethan here.

We just wanted to stop in real quick before we get started this week and say a big thank you.

To my brother, Justin.

He is our latest podcast supporter.

Thank you very much.

We don't advertise this because we don't offer any extra. No, we don't really have

it set up yet. Yeah. I mean, we do plan on doing a Patreon down the line when we have

like the bandwidth to do extra episodes and bonus content, things like that. We're just both

incredibly busy and cannot do it right now. But thank you so much for supporting us anyway.

We really appreciate it. Thank you, Justin. Thank you, everybody that's supporting and listening.

I know. And leaving reviews. Those are the best.

Yes. Thank you guys. All right. Let's get on with this week's show.

If you're a parent, think of how many times you've opened the door to your child's room to check on them as they sleep in their bed.

When they're babies, maybe you'd want to make sure they're finally actually asleep.

Or you want to make sure that they're still breathing because your new parent anxiety is through the roof.

When they're older, maybe you just like seeing them still and quiet and peaceful.

But isn't there also a tiny part of your brain that wants you to make sure they're still there?

This reptilian fear that something could have happened in the time since you tuck them in and you'll open the door to an empty bed.

On September 11, 2000, that's exactly what happened to Leah Hackett when she went to check on her eight-year-old son, Zach, around 4 a.m.

She opened the door and was confronted by a parent's worst nightmare, an empty bed where her child was peacefully sleeping just a short time before.

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.

...