In the midst of shiny display cases and stuffed bodies in scientific poses, a mother lived the most heartbreaking moment of her life. While touring an anatomical exhibit in Las Vegas, he stopped short in front of an exposed human figure. He had no doubts. “That’s my son,” he said. Christopher Todd Erick, who had disappeared a long time ago, seemed to be there, turned into part of a show.

The complaint was not scandalous or mediatic: it was the cry of a mother looking for certainty. He asked for a DNA test. Not for money. Not out of revenge. I just wanted to know if, indeed, her son had been reduced to anonymity, without dignity or consent, to be part of a visual science show.

The museum ᴀssured that all the bodies came from legal donations. But the case opened an uncomfortable debate: what if some of those bodies were not donated, but forgotten by the justice system? What if behind each anatomical pose there is an unfinished story?

The exhibition, which promised education and amazement, was transformed into a scenario of pain and unanswered questions. Women do not seek punishment, but humanity. Because if your child is there, they deserve to be recognized. And if it is not, it deserves an answer.

This fact revives old fears: that some samples of “anatomical art” hide secrets darker than bones and muscles. That among nameless bodies and showcases with white light, the silence of the disappeared also dwells.