Her son had been missing for 24 years, then she saw his mugshot on the news, and she immediately did something that shocked the whole world | HO

By Nia Clark, Special Correspondent

For 24 years, Loretta Hayes lit a single candle every April 14th for her missing son. Each year, the ritual was the same: she would walk to the steps of New Zion Baptist Church, kneel beside a weathered photo of eight-year-old Malik Hayes in his Spider-Man shirt, and pray. The neighborhood had changed, the faces in the congregation had grown older, but Loretta’s vigil never wavered. Malik vanished during a church picnic in 1999, and though the community’s hope faded, his mother’s did not.

Then, on a chilly April evening in 2023, everything changed. Loretta’s phone rang. “Turn on the news, Channel 7,” her neighbor’s niece urged. On the screen, amid the chaos of a police sting in downtown Atlanta, a young man in handcuffs appeared—his face bruised, defiant, older, but unmistakably familiar. Loretta’s breath caught. The scar on his cheek, the eyes, the slope of his brow—she knew instantly: “That’s my baby.”

What followed was a whirlwind that would shake not just Atlanta, but the nation.

A Candle in the Darkness

Loretta’s story began, as so many do, with an ordinary day. Malik, a curious, bright-eyed boy, disappeared from a church picnic, last seen laughing with a new youth counselor. Despite a massive search effort, he was never found. Over the years, Loretta became a fixture at vigils and prayer circles, her son’s face fading from posters but never from her heart.

“I stopped crying after the first few years,” Loretta recalls. “The tears dried up. But I never stopped waiting.”

Her quiet act of faith drew the attention of local journalist Nia Clark, who snapped a photo of Loretta at her annual vigil and posted it online. The image—Loretta kneeling, candle burning, Malik’s photo glowing in the dusk—quickly went viral, shared by hundreds of thousands. Unbeknownst to Loretta, that photo would soon become a lifeline.

A Face on the News

When Malik’s mugshot appeared on live TV, the world saw a suspect. Loretta saw her son. But the system saw only another nameless young man, arrested under the name Deshawn Brooks. At the precinct, officers pressed him for identification, but nothing matched. A DNA swab, ordered for “unidentified suspects,” would soon reveal the truth: Deshawn Brooks was Malik Darnell Hayes, missing since 1999.

Officer Belle Morton, the booking officer, was the first to understand the gravity of what had happened. “He’s not just a suspect. He’s the boy who vanished 24 years ago,” she told Nia, who rushed to inform Loretta.

Uncovering the Truth

The DNA match triggered a cascade of events. Malik’s file revealed a harrowing journey: picked up as a runaway in 2004, he’d been placed in a group home called Harvest Path Youth Outreach—a front for funneling vulnerable children into criminal networks. Under a new name, Malik was lost to the system, his past erased.

Journalist Nia Clark dug deeper, uncovering sealed records that implicated Harvest Path and its connections to local authorities. Dozens of children, many with no ID or family, had passed through the facility—some ending up in juvenile detention, others simply disappearing. A familiar name surfaced: Rufus Holt, cousin of New Zion’s elder, Vernon Holt, who had supervised the picnic the day Malik vanished.

Confronted by mounting evidence and public outrage, Vernon Holt publicly confessed his role in the cover-up, admitting he’d failed to report what he’d seen that day. “I was afraid of what it meant,” he told his congregation. “But silence only lets the darkness grow.”

A Mother’s Fight

Despite the truth coming to light, Malik’s ordeal was far from over. He faced multiple charges stemming from his years in the system—robbery, resisting arrest, obstruction. Loretta was undeterred. She gathered every photograph, report card, and drawing from Malik’s childhood, ready to prove his identity to anyone who would listen.

Meanwhile, Nia’s investigative reports went national, exposing systemic failures and prompting state and federal investigations. Advocacy groups rallied around Loretta, and a GoFundMe campaign raised tens of thousands for Malik’s defense.

But Malik, traumatized and adrift, struggled to reconnect with the mother he barely remembered. He refused visits, responding only to her letters, which he folded and kept in a notebook. “You don’t have to remember me for me to remember you,” Loretta wrote. “The door isn’t locked.”

Redemption and Reunion

After weeks in jail, Malik was offered a plea deal: 18 months in a rehabilitative facility, not prison. He accepted, not for himself, but to shield two other former Harvest Path victims arrested with him. “They’ve taken everything from me already. I’m not letting them take those boys too,” he told his lawyer.

His sentence was served in a transitional home, where, for the first time in years, Malik found space to heal. He began writing letters—to the boys he protected, to his younger self, and finally, to Loretta. “I still don’t remember how to be a son,” he wrote, “but I remember the pancakes, and I want to come home.”

On the day of his release, Malik didn’t call ahead. He simply showed up at Loretta’s door, rain-soaked and silent. She opened the door before he could knock. In the kitchen, two plates were set. No words were needed. For the first time in 24 years, Malik was home.

A Light That Never Went Out

Loretta Hayes no longer lights a candle for her missing son. She no longer waits by the window, hoping for a miracle. Malik is home—not the boy who vanished, but the man who survived. Their journey is far from over, but for now, a mother and son sit together in quiet, hard-won peace.

In a world quick to forget the lost, Loretta’s faith—and the power of one viral photo—proved that hope, even in its smallest flicker, can still change everything.