The Friday after the crash, Paul Njoroge, held up by his father-in-law, John, made his way to the yellow police tape blocking entrance to the field where his family had perished. He’d consumed nothing but water for days. The biting scent of freshly plowed dirt stung his nostrils. When they reached the tape, Paul crumpled and put his head into his hands. “I want to hear my kids talk to me,” he said.
