Noah was eight, small for his age, and fascinated by anything that bounced. His uncle gave him a red rubber ball shortly after lunch.
The ball rolled beneath a gap in the old dock railing at 4:14.
Noah followed.
The wooden dock had been closed for repairs, but one section of temporary fencing had fallen during a storm. Noah stepped through before anyone noticed.
He reached over the railing.
His shoe slipped on algae.
He struck his shoulder against the dock edge and entered the water without a full breath.
The lake dropped sharply near the pilings. Noah could swim across a shallow pool, but cold water, heavy clothes, and the impact disoriented him.
He surfaced once.
Carl Jensen heard the splash from the boat ramp. By the time he turned, Noah’s head had already gone below the surface.
Carl ran toward the dock.
The dog arrived first.
Carl had noticed the stray earlier that afternoon. The animal stayed beneath a picnic table beyond the main gathering, close enough to smell food but too wary to approach people.
