I saw a homeless man wearing my missing son’s jacket — and I decided to follow him. Almost a year ago, on a Monday morning, my 17-year-old son, Daniel, left for school and never came back. My son was always the one who could make everyone laugh. He was kind and sensitive. He would never even leave the house without telling me. That just wasn’t like Daniel. That same evening, I called the police. The officers said teenagers will be teenagers — that he would come back in a couple of days.

“Maya,” I whispered.

Maya had visited Daniel a handful of times. Quiet girl. Polite in a way that seemed careful.

I saw Daniel walking beside a girl.

In the video, they walked through the gate and toward the bus stop. They got on a city bus together, and then they were gone.

“I need to speak to Maya.” I turned to the principal. “Can I?”

“Maya doesn’t attend this school anymore.” She gestured to the video. “She transferred suddenly. That was her last day here.”

***

I drove straight to Maya’s house.

A man answered the door.

“That was her last day here.”

“Can I please see Maya? She was with my son the day he went missing. I need to know if he said anything to her.”

He frowned at me for a long moment. Then something in his face seemed to close off.

“Maya isn’t here. She’s living with her grandparents for a while.” He started to close the door, then paused. “I’ll ask her if she knows anything, okay?”