Inside was the only records, information about his parents, his childhood before losing them. Pictures, records all of it... The very reason they died, how they lived and love him.

Atticus had to choose between this and the life of someone he couldn't bare to lose.  With a tremendous weight in his heart, and loss ready to overwhelm him he let the place be engulfed in fire before the remnants blew up.

There was no recreating them, not even a glance, neither of you had the chance to. Atticus could live the rest of his life without an answer. You couldn't even find a scorched edge of a photograph only try and think of something else. A comfort, but the guilt you had...