Scientist Jim Donnelly disappeared almost six years ago, but police have resumed the hunt for him. Rachel Grunwell talks to them about their new tactics, and to a family still aching for answers.
A box sits on top of the cream pantry in the Donnelly family's brick house in the Auckland suburb of Howick - just in case Jim Donnelly ever comes home.
His children, Liam, 13, and Siobhan, 11, carefully show off its precious contents: Father's Day cards, presents and letters they long for their dad to hold. The box is decorated with their drawings of the family, hearts and the words "dad" and "Jim".
The children "every now and again" look through the box put together just after their dad disappeared.
Mum Tracey Donnelly says they generally get on with life, but friends talking about their dads can send them into a spin and remind them all of their "cruel" loss.
A day never goes by without Tracey asking "why?" and she still has no idea why the man she married almost 19 years ago vanished.
She appears strong, but when her kids talk about their dad her eyes reveal true sorrow.
"It is easier now [to deal with] than when I first knew about it," says Liam.
"I mostly think about him when I'm dreaming. Sometimes I have dreams that he will come through the door again."
Liam longs to tell his dad: "You're the best."
At least Liam can remember building a rocket together and other special times.
Siobhan shakes her head and starts to weep when asked if she can recall anything about the man that should matter most. She last saw him aged 5.
"To lose a father at any stage of life is hard, but to not know what happened to him is even harder," says Tracey.
Howick Senior Sergeant Dave Glossop is the new head of the case. He would do anything to help answer that question.
He is bringing a "fresh pair of eyes" to the case and has already had more than 50 search and rescue professionals scouring 900ha around Glenbrook Mill for two days.
That was where Donnelly was last seen on June 21, 2004. The area includes a mill, a beach and acres of concrete-lined oxidation ponds.
The "hard target search" was done so Glossop could be satisfied the remains of the metals scientist weren't missed.
They used GPS technology not readily available at the time and the detective has re-interviewed mill managers to probe if there was "absolutely anywhere a body could've been laid". Glossop has also been investigating if sonar radars - used by the FBI in the US to find hidden graves under houses - could be used to search the oxidation ponds. That area has never been "fully ticked off" by police.
"As technology moves on so does the police ability to make more inquiries," says Glossop.
Glossop says the original police file contained "rumours" of a boat in the bays on one edge of the mill land.
He has been talking to harbour masters about any boats that could have been there and picked someone up.
He is also planning to talk to an independent psychologist for a take on Donnelly's state of mind when he was last seen.
Glossop says it is "possible" Donnelly could have run away, assumed a new identity and restarted life.
But none of his credit cards had been used and there was no evidence for this.
It is also "possible" there could have been a fatal accident, suicide or murder.
But what bothers Glossop, and Tracey, are a string of events that don't add up.
Media reports in 2004 told of a mild-mannered family man going to work one day and never coming home. Donnelly woke Tracey about 5am, drove to work, parked in the staff car park and went to his office with a pre-packed lunch, which was never eaten.
He was last seen by colleagues in a huge industrial building to the south of the mill.
A week later, an acid vat was drained after his hard hat was found beside it.
It contained low-strength acid that could not have decomposed a body.
The only things they found were some of Donnelly's keys, his work ID card, palm pilot, safety glasses and money.
There were several possible sightings shortly after Donnelly's disappearance.
One was three days later when a digger operator saw someone fitting his description "running for his life" from searchers.
An officer found tracks from boots that could have matched ones issued to Donnelly, south of the mill. They went over a bank and disappeared into grass around the ponds. Tracey does not believe this was her husband. She said other workers wore similar boots and "maybe it was someone trying it make it look like he had walked away".
Donnelly was also reportedly seen behaving unusually at an office block in central Auckland the night before he disappeared.
He was presumed to have been looking for his best friend, Stephen Taylor, who worked there.
The building's resident caretaker Dennis Algar reportedly said Donnelly sneaked through a secure car park after an office worker.
When questioned, he said he had come to see someone working in the building and to help his friend pay a debt.
Algar described Donnelly as quite frightened, pretty baffling and a bit incoherent.
Back in 2004, Tracey and police repeatedly said they were sure Donnelly was alive. But time changes everything and they are now hunting for a body.
They have heard nothing from him and Glossop describes the placing of the items in the acid vat as "staged".
He said Donnelly was unlikely to have left them because he would have had to walk through the factory where people were searching for him.
Donnelly's best friend Taylor is convinced of "foul play". He reckons his mate might have found out something about someone at the mill and been "knocked off".
Tracey keeps replaying the strange "goings on" before her husband disappeared.
He wrote off her car a couple of months earlier. She had been working in Canada - she still works for Air New Zealand - and did not challenge his explanation that it was a simple two-car crash.
But now she says the week before her husband disappeared was very unusual.
He had asked her to come home early on two occasions so he could tell her why he wanted to join the Freemasons.
He stopped "engaging" with her, would not say why he was anxious and "out-of-sorts" and disappeared for hours for walks.
Two days before he went missing - a Saturday - they were supposed to go to the Hyatt for a romantic night out but he fled unexpectedly for an "urgent meeting". He returned hours later in a hired suit and said he had decided to go out with her after all.
Tracey says she "lost it". She asked her parents and friends to talk to Donnelly but he would not tell them what was going on.
The same day he warned Tracey he might be a "bit fragile" the next day but would not say why.
She asked him if he meant emotionally or physically. He said physically.
He disappeared for about two hours, but came back happier.
Tracey says he told her: "If you knew what was in my head you would not be worried. Family comes first, family is most important."
On the day before his disappearance he went for another walk and came back in body "but not in mind".
He talked of trying to "avert a crisis, a waste" and said he had a problem at work. He paced the floor, ate little and fled again.
"It was like he was trying to make a decision about something," says Tracey.
On the day he disappeared, Donnelly woke Tracey to tell her about presents he had bought for his children's birthdays, which were months away.
They included a skipping rope for Siobhan and chess set for Liam - something he will receive on his 21st birthday.
Tracey, 45, would have celebrated 19 years of marriage in March and still thinks about her husband "every day".
She has dated a couple of times, but finds it hard to let go of her soulmate.
And she's haunted by "what was happening to him before he disappeared".
Tracey says one theory put to police was that Donnelly was gay and left for another life. She said he would never have abandoned his beloved children.
A psychologist, who saw Donnelly around the time of the disappearance, told her he had shown no signs of being suicidal.
Glossop believes there are people who could ring him and help solve the mystery, freeing the family from years of uncertainty: "I implore them to come forward. Tracey and her children deserve to know what happened."
But even after all these years she finds it gut-wrenching to tell new friends about what happened: "I say to them, look at your husband and imagine that one day he doesn't come home from work."
Gone, not forgotten
Jim Donnelly is among 588 long-term missing people since records began in 1942.
About 8000 new missing people cases are reported each year.
Figures reveal 59 per cent are found after three days, 90 per cent are found after a fortnight, 95 per cent are found after 30 days and 98 per cent after 90 days.
If the person is not found within three days, the case is reviewed by the CIB. The file will be held by the CIB if the person is still missing after a fortnight. The case remains active until the person, or their remains, are found.
The oldest missing person's file in the police system dates to 1941/42 and involves a boy from Petone.
