I set out on my road trip with my camera gear and wolf dog in a little Ford Fiesta, with pink posters that I hung up in the communities where I stopped and an 800 number where people could call me. I had promised myself that I would let families come to me and not breach anyone’s privacy or ability to grieve by making cold calls. To my surprise, I was inundated with requests to share about community members’ missing and murdered loved ones on my way. Not a single community was unaffected.
