Search for boy recalled (6/25/05)

What does a parent feel when they’ve lost their child?

You may recall this terrifying ordeal that happened June 24-25, 2004. Our Jacob was lost in the corn.

At the time, I was a single, at-home mom with six boys. We were going about our day as usual. We’ve always got something going on, living in the country. It was early afternoon. The two youngest boys and I were picking mulberries out by the barns — one of our favorite pastimes.

The mild day began to look like a rain storm was moving in. I decided it was time to head indoors, so we scattered for the house.

Soon after, I noticed Jacob was not with me. I assumed he hadn’t made it in yet. He hangs with his brothers and plays with the puppies as well. I yelled out to the boys to get to the house before the storm. Slowly but surely we were all inside, so I thought, and then noticed that Jacob was not.

I yelled for Jacob, and then for the other boys — asking them if they’d seen Jacob. Of course, we never even thought that he might be missing. Then the thought entered my mind for the first time.

I then told the boys to look around the house as I went outside into the rain with my oldest boy. I yelled for the puppies and only two of the three came. My gut told me that something wasn’t right.

We returned to the house after looking in and around the barns for Jacob.

Inside, I gathered the boys to tell them to keep looking for Jacob everywhere.

A short time passed after a complete search of the house. The feeling of absolute amazement flowed through me and the older boys. I believe the younger ones of age 3 and 7 did not understand what was going on. I pulled the oldest boys aside to discuss the possibilities facing us.

We knew now that Jacob was not in the house, so he must be outside — as unrealistic as it seemed.

I went outside to the garage to be alone so I could collect my thoughts and try to figure out what to do. I was scared but I could not let the boys see it in me. It’s these times when a mother has to be her strongest.

Staring into the cold rain, the lightning cracked the sky. I was filled with fear that brought tears. I knew that I had to go into the corn for Jacob. I ran to the house to tell the boys what I was going to do. Christopher decided to go with me, and the others were given instructions.

Out there in the fields, running through the rows of corn which were mostly well over our heads, wasn’t the game that it had been before. As I child, I played in the corn, and as a parent, I’d play in the corn with my boys.

The rain coming down on the stalks was so loud that I couldn’t listen for Jacob’s cry. I ran from one end of the field to the next, driven with fear, screaming to God to just stop the rain.

After a couple hours more of running the now muddy fields, we met up at the house. I couldn’t hide the inevitable from the boys anymore. It was so hard to believe that Jacob was lost.

Eventually, the rain did ease up. Thank you, God. I figured the chances of finding him would be greater now. So I changed out of my drenched clothes, kicked off my shoes and told the boys that I was going out again.

I should’ve noticed the time, but wanted just to find Jacob and be O.K. again.

My pride was telling me that I could find Jacob on my own. Reality was telling me that the daylight would only last for a while longer. Then what we do?

Again, another desperate search with no results. My 7-year-old Johnothan spoke up and said, “Call 911, mom!”

I then swallowed my pride and made the call. In minutes, people came from all directions in response to my call. It was humiliating, but at the same time, a relief.

I tried to explain to authorities what had happened hours earlier and to give an exact time and the exact place was nearly impossible.

I was sure that Jacob was, in fact, in the field with our puppy. Earlier I heard him crying out in the north field and immediately we ran to that area. We just could not get to him.

As the volunteers kept coming, authorities were trying to organize a strategy. After all, it’s not a usual occurrence that we were dealing with.

I was told to stay close to the house by authorities of all kinds while the search was underway.

The day grew dark and so chilly. The search was becoming a long and complicated nightmare. Doubts showed on the faces of the many volunteers helping to find Jacob. Nevertheless, words of hope and encouragement rang out through the night.

As each one of you dropped what you were doing and headed this way, you did not know what you would be up against.

The search had been unsuccessful for hours, and the frustration grew deep in the many cold and exhausted bodies.

There were many questions to answer, and some that I did not have the answers for. Perhaps the question at hand was why can’t we find Jacob?

The accusations, blaming, disbelief, etc., when an ordeal like this happens is probably one of the most awful things to experience. I understand that procedures must be upheld to rule out all possibilities. But I knew that I hadn’t harmed my Jacob.

This fact was made known when the words rang out, “We’ve got him!”

Jacob and I still deal with the effects of the whole thing in some shape or extreme. There must be a process of healing with this kind of trauma. I’m sure that in time it will happen for both of us.

And if I had to do it all over again ... I’d be picking mulberries pretty soon.

Thus, our invitation to you. Anyone involved in some way, any way. We insist that you join us for a time of reminiscing and sharing in what brought this community together in an awesome experience. We want to meet you Saturday, from 1 p.m. until the evening, in the Dunkirk City Park.

Sincerely,

Lisa and Chris Conley

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