Editor's note: The following contains graphic content. Reader discretion is advised.
I had last interviewed Rachel and Jon Goldberg-Polin, the parents of an Israeli-American man taken hostage by Hamas on Oct. 7 last year, the morning after their speech at the Democratic National Convention in Chicago in August, during which the crowd spontaneously erupted in chants of "bring them home."
The calls for the release of Hamas' captives not only left convention-goers in tears, but appeared to be the first time that the stoic Rachel Goldberg-Polin wept publicly, resting her head on the lectern to sob.
When we spoke the following morning in Chicago, on the convention floor, the couple seemed buoyed by the crowd's unplanned chants and the prospect that their son, Hersh, 23, and others might be freed in a hostage deal being brokered by the Biden administration. That morning, the piece of tape Rachel wears on her shirt marking the days since Hamas terrorists attacked Israel on Oct. 7, had read 321.
On day 330, her son, along with five other hostages, were executed in a tunnel in the southern Gaza city of Rafah.
The hostages were among the over 100 that remained missing in Gaza from the 250 hostages taken captive on Oct. 7, 2023. About 1,200 other people were killed in the attack by Hamas, according to Israeli officials.
I met Hersh's parents again late last week, finding a couple whose mission was terminated, and whose hope was shattered. Hersh's death has shackled them to a grief they had successfully deflected in favor of the mission to bring him home. But it also freed them to say what they never dared before.
Jon was paler than I'd ever seen; Rachel, thinner. They remained cuttingly honest. Their nearly year-long crusade has opened doors to the offices of heads of state around the world, but in the end, they said they felt defeated.
"We did fail because there was one binary result," Jon said. "Success equals bring Hersh and the other hostages home alive. Anything short of that is failure. So we did fail. But the world let us down, let down these six hostages, and the world failed."
In the days after the execution of the hostages in late August, which triggered mass protests in Israel to pressure the government of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to push through a cease-fire and hostage deal, the Goldberg-Polins learned more about how their son died.
Rachel recited the autopsy report findings with almost actuarial detail.
"Hersh was almost six feet tall when he was found. He was 115 pounds. We now know he was missing his left hand, as you know. They think that he was standing when he was first shot. The first bullet, went through his right hand, his only hand into his shoulder, into his neck. That came out the side of his head. Then they think that he collapsed and then he was shot in the back of the head. And the bullet came out of the top of his head. And we know that because there's so much gunpowder in his hair," she said.
Rachel said Hersh was slumped on his knees when Israeli troops found him in that tunnel with the five others a day after the execution.
One of the young women also captured at the Nova Music Festival on Oct. 7 -- Eden Yerushalmi, 24, who was a bartender at the festival -- was found with her head resting on his hip.
A backgammon board crafted from scrap cardboard was found next to them. In a swirl of doubt about what could have happened, and the missed opportunities to free the hostages, the Goldberg-Polins were certain about one thing: their pride in their son, who survived his hand being blown off, and the deprivation of food, sun, water and air.
"He's mentally tough. He's smart," Jon noted. "And I had faith in him. I was right. We both were right. He did his part."
With Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement, approaching, Rachel reflected on how the tragedy affected her faith.
"People have asked me, because they know that we're religious, and they said, 'Have you lost your faith through this?' And I said, 'I have not lost my faith in God. I have lost my faith in a lot of people who I thought maybe would behave differently,'" she said.
"But, I have such incredible faith and pride in those six young people for making it so long and doing every single thing right, because, when someone puts a gun to your head or your hand or your neck and kills you when you are completely defenseless, that is not your fault in any way. They did every single thing right. And I am incredibly proud of Hersh and all of them for making it that long," she added.
The Netanyahu government, they said, had failed them. They fear that the rest of the hostages will die in captivity. Netanyahu's government has blamed Hamas for its intransigence. The group's leader, Yahya Sinwar, has been essentially incommunicado for more than a month.
At this stage, with hostage and cease-fire negotiations stalled and Hamas' leader unreachable in Gaza's warren of tunnels, Rachel likened civilians on both sides to pawns in chess.
"And I am concerned that many innocent people on our side, certainly in Gaza, are considered pawns in this game and are expendable until the people who have power and influence decide that they're done. And I'm not privy to that information," she said.
What the couple does understand, they say, is that the current "trajectory doesn't work."
"This constant circle -- violence, revenge, anger, hatred, violence, revenge, anger, hatred -- it has not served us well," Rachel said. "Who is going to be brave enough to say, 'They're not going anywhere. We're not going anywhere. What are we going to do to move forward?' And that's the real question now."
And it seems to me that in the ocean of words spilled out about the conflict over the past year, nothing resonates more than this closing thought from Rachel about Israelis and Palestinians.
"We know that there were openings for deals and those were opportunities that didn't occur for, my understanding is what were considered strategic reasons. And it seems that things are now expanding and there's more misery and suffering," she said.
As they wrestle with what their future advocacy work might look like, Rachel and Jon Goldberg-Polin have begun to tend to a far more demanding matter: their grief.
"For 330 days, I was actively suppressing so much emotional torment, turmoil, [and] terror as a psychological defense mechanism that I don't even know how to start to process any of that," Rachel said. "So I'm in many ways very much frozen in the extreme present, and it's a scary place to be because I know that it's temporary."