It was an awful end to a day that had been filled with so much hope and optimism.
Five-year-old Khyzah went missing on Sunday afternoon in a rugged rural area near Gisborne.
Police and Search and Rescue had set up a base at the woolshed next to his home, and the muddy yard was filled with people.
There was a helicopter in the paddock, dozens of quad bikes and utes, and a line of horses tied to a fence.
Some people were talking quietly in groups waiting to be called up to help, while others were just arriving back from a morning of trudging up and down the boggy and steep terrain.
You could see colourful dots on the nearby hillsides, as people clambered methodically up and down, combing the paddocks for any signs of the little boy. There was a positive feeling about the chances of finding Khyzah alive and well.
"Everyone is out here trying, but nothing's been found sadly," he said.
Khyzah's whanau were gathered at the gate of their home; children, grandparents, aunts and uncles all there supporting each other while they waited for any clues as to where their boy might be.
His father told RNZ they wanted to wait before talking to media.
Inside the woolshed, standing over a wool-sorting table covered in maps, was Detective Sergeant Wayne Beattie.
He'd been working around the clock since Sunday afternoon on the case. At about 2pm people started to move towards the farm pond, where a police dive squad had just entered the water.
People leaned on the fence surrounding the pond, watching the two divers begin their slow search of the muddy waters, the quiet chatter ceased and an uneasy silence fell.
Until that moment there'd been hope, but now it was replaced with heavy sense of dread.
About an hour later, police asked everyone to move away from the pond, and someone said 'they've found his body'.
Those four words echoed quietly around the crowd as dozens of people processed the news, their faces falling as they turned to each other in comfort.
A man rushed across the paddock to tell the whanau, who clutched at each other for support and then made their way over to the pond.
Then he walked to his car, reaching in for a child-sized orange stretcher, something there was hope wouldn't be needed.
Climbing over the farm fence with it, he trudged to the pond where a low keening sound could be heard.
As the family carried Khyzah's body back across the paddock, they sobbed and struggled to stay upright.
Khyzah's father yelled out in anger, nearly falling down in despair.
His little body was placed gently on the deck of a nearby ute and there was quiet as a beautiful karakia wound its way around the crowd of family, friends, neighbours and searchers gathered outside the woolshed.
The raw pain, sorrow and hurt etched on faces of the whanau as they paused, then lifted their child up, carrying him the short walk home, is a sight no one in that muddy carpark is ever likely to forget.
