The genome is now part of the permanent scientific record.

And the child — the person, the infant buried with red ochre and a hundred extraordinary tools by people who loved him — is back in the ground.

Both of those things are true, and both of them matter.

The Anzick case, at its deepest level, is about learning to hold them together: the data and the person, the analysis and the ancestor, the genome and the child.

He was here first, in the sense that matters most — not as an abstraction or a data point, but as a real person, living a real life in a real landscape, surrounded by people who cared enough about him to give him everything they had when they buried him.