Nearly overnight, Mary Moody decided she wanted to be a mother.

The whole idea came to her late in life — and as she looks back today, her desire to be a parent had more to do with honoring her husband than anything else.

She'd married Ken Bronston at age 34. By a couple of years into their marriage, he was starting law school at the University of Utah. Mary was teaching and headed for graduate school. Children weren't in the plans.

"But I thought Ken was a wonderful person, and one day I decided we should have a child who would be a reflection of him."

There would be only one son or daughter for the couple, she was almost certain. "But I knew that if we had a child it would be a gift to this world."

During the past 10 months — the time her only child has been gone — a lifetime of friends, co-workers, classmates and confidantes confirm she was right.

It took awhile to get pregnant back in 1981, but the rest of the nine months was a breeze. Mary was in the peak of health. She exercised and cut back her caffeine.

"Talk about a child who was wanted in this world," says Sarah McCarthey, one of Mary's oldest friends. "The planning of the pregnancy, all the care of the pregnancy and attention to her health. ... She always wanting the best for Duncan even in utero."

Today McCarthey particularly remembers Ken's sentiments at the time — how it was the addition of a child that made a family.

A week after her due date, Mary awoke to contractions but wasn't sure they were the real thing. She remained uncertain until she found herself "lurching and hyperventilating" into the maternity ward.

"Two pushes, and there he was," she laughs.

Duncan Moody-Bronston was born May 9, 1982 — Mother's Day.

· · · · ·

Last summer, a middle-of-the-night pounding on the door ended what has been described as Mary and Ken's lifelong love affair with their son.

"We are so sorry," one detective told the bleary-eyed couple. "We have very bad news. We found your son dead."

Earlier that evening of July 6, Duncan went to dinner with his parents. He joined them at a performance of the Utah Jazz Festival but begged out shortly after arriving at Abravanel Hall. His shoulder was bothering him, he told his dad. "I think I'm going home."

There was no extra long hug, no "I love you." No tears or stammers or dark glances hinting of the boy's pain.

Despite all his parents' searching later, Duncan left no note.