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Church choirs are supposed to gather people, not lose them. They make sound into safety, harmony into proof that communities can still agree on something. But in one Midwestern town in 1965, a choir rehearsal ended not with music, but with silence. Twelve teenagers and young adults walked into a sanctuary and never walked out again.

Their hymnals were left open. Their coats were draped over pews. Cars still sat in the gravel lot outside. The clock on the wall read 7:03 p.m. — the exact minute rehearsal was supposed to begin.

They call it the Choir That Never Sang.

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