Coworker stole the bullet that struck my great grandpa in his manhood

I keep a bullet that I got from my pappy whose dad fought in the war. It is in an old mint tin in my office desk drawer. Or it was, until someone took it.

The bullet is very meaningful to my family, as after it struck my Great grandpa in the scrotum, doctors said he was a unich, aka no children from him.

Despite that, he came back from war and earned his place in the baby boom by, as he put it, "making love to the first woman who gave him butterflies," my great grandma. She got pregnant against all odds, and I found that bullet to be a testament to how my family defies all odds. In fact I wrote the essay that got me into Stanford about the bullet.

Now it's gone, because some jerk probably thought "wow, cool a bullet!" while pilfering through my things looking for a mint. l've interrogated everyone in office today, but it's Halloween and a Friday so the culprit is likely at home right now.

I want that bullet back, but even if I do get my hands on it, I feel like the thief has spoiled some of the magic it has for me.