Betsy Shepard

It's a rugged canyon where the Angeles National Forest, the San Gabriel Mountains, and the Mojave Desert all converge.

Ajay entered the park just before noon, used a payphone to call into the sheriff's department, and then he took off running.

He never listened to any music, just the sounds of nature as he jogged along a maze of switchbacks and up a nearly 10,000-foot mountain.

By early evening, he looped back towards the parking lot.

But as the sun began to set, the shadows of trees and rocks grew until night engulfed the park.

It's a pretty unique situation.

The sheriff's department is called in to look for a missing hiker who's one of their own.

So the search and rescue team sent out to look for Ajay consists of his friends and colleagues.

But searchers find no trace of Ajay.

It was as if he just vanished into thin air.

And now, nearly 30 years later, the deputy is still missing.

All that remains from Ajay's life is packed into five cardboard boxes.

The items are wrapped in plastic, and Bauer wears gloves as he combs through them.

Bauer's preserving Ajay's belongings for future developments in the case.

The artifacts also tell us who Ajay was.

There's a photo collage full of happy memories.

Him and his high school sweetheart, Deb, on their wedding day.

A birthday party for their daughter, Chloe, who was just five when he disappeared.

And puppy pics of Bosco, Ajay's department-issued canine.

And next to these snapshots of domestic life, there's a steel ballistics helmet intended to stop rifle rounds, trophies for marksmanship, army fatigues, you know, tough guy stuff.