Published September 20, 2005
If you’ve ever watched a news report about my brother, you’ve no doubt seen the clip of him juggling. That clip was filmed one week before he disappeared. Because it was the most recent image of him—and because they were desperate to find him—my parents eagerly shared that video with the police and the press. They figured the live action of him talking and moving around would make him more recognizable when someone, surely, found him.
My parents didn’t stop to process the ramifications of sharing something so private, so personal, with the world. They could not have known how that video would haunt us all for a very long time. I’ve seen that video play across multiple televisions in the electronics section of a Walmart, muted on a tiny television mounted over a bar, and broadcast on a jumbotron at a sporting event during the half-time show. It’s weird to be in a public place and see a piece of your own family history, to watch it and remember it at the same time.
If you’re not familiar, the video was filmed at my little sister Kristy’s birthday party. Davy had volunteered to be the entertainment by doing a few magic tricks and then—the grand finale—his juggling act. The clip was cut to just a few seconds and shows Davy juggling four yellow balls, little moons orbiting the sun that is Davy’s round, smiling face. At the end of it he’s so pleased with himself, he exclaims, “Mom, did you see? I juggled four balls! I kept them all up! All at the very same time!”
In the clip he makes the juggling look easy. But getting to that point was not easy. Davy could juggle three balls, but he didn’t want to do the easy trick. A true feat, he decided, would be to add one more ball. He practiced and practiced in the weeks leading up to the party, often begging me to be his audience. At first I was willing, but I grew tired of it and began dodging him. So he conned the girl next door into being his audience. I’d see them out in the backyard and feel a prickle of jealousy that Davy was getting her attention.
More than once I thought of going out to join them but talked myself out of it because I had to play it cool. If I could go back to those days before he went missing, I’d go outside and sit with the girl next door to watch my brother. We’d watch him juggle all day long. And we’d clap every time he kept all four balls in the air. All at the very same time.