“Soon after my 7th birthday, the phone rang again, and we went to the port. We could tell something was off from the start. My father took us out to eat and began to explain. He had shot someone. The man was dead. He was going to be put on trial. It sounded bad, he said, but was not a ‘big deal.’ He didn’t want to talk much more about it but said he was sure he could get a plea deal … He disappeared into the mist, and then it broke for a moment, and I could see his silhouette again walking toward the ship. I thought I could hear him humming something to himself.” Nicholas Casey in NYT Mag: My Father Vanished When I Was 7. The Mystery Made Me Who I Am.