Gone in the Night: The Search for Nancy Guthrie | Special Report

TUCSON, Ariz. - It’s been two months since 84-year-old Nancy Guthrie was safe in the comfort of her own home. As day 60 comes to a close, the Pima County Sheriff’s Department and the FBI are still searching for the mother of "Today" show host Savannah Guthrie. 

Investigators believe Nancy was taken. Since then, we’ve seen a media frenzy in Tucson, ransom letters fueling national concern, and a recall effort launched against the sheriff. What we haven’t seen is proof of life for Nancy.

Tucked away at the base of the Santa Catalina mountains, the foothills are known for their scenic desert beauty north of Tucson. Beneath the open sky is where 84-year-old Nancy Guthrie lived alone on the quiet, dark stretch of north Camino Escalante. It’s a neighborhood without a streetlight, where luminance only comes from the stars above.

But in the early morning hours of February 1, 2026, a masked man, armed with a holstered handgun, tampers with the doorbell camera. He stands roughly 5’ 9" tall, with an average build, wearing a distinctive black 25-liter "Ozark Trail" hiker backpack. 

The FBI recovered these videos from deep within Google's backend systems. The only known glimpse of the man who vanished into the darkness — a suspect in Nancy's disappearance. 

Local and national media rushed to the Pima County sheriff’s department for answers. 

According to investigators, the digital trail began on the night of January 31. Nancy had just enjoyed dinner at her daughter Annie's house. After taking an Uber earlier that evening, her son-in-law, Tommaso Cioni, drove her home just before 10 p.m. She went inside through the garage—the last time she was seen. 

The next four hours are a mystery, until 1:47 a.m., when the doorbell camera was disconnected. 

At 2:12 a.m., the camera’s sensors detected movement, but without a subscription, there was no recording of what the system captured until the FBI obtained the data. Sixteen minutes later, the final clue: Nancy’s pacemaker disconnected from her phone. 

For an 84-year-old who relies on daily heart medication and has difficulty walking, law enforcement’s urgent search intensified. 

Pima County Sheriff Chris Nanos quickly came under scrutiny. Five days into the search, reporters pressed for new information, asking if investigators were looking at Nancy's own family. 

"Everybody's still a suspect in our eyes. That's just how we look at things and think as cops," Nanos said at a Feb. 5 news conference. "Does that mean we have a prime suspect? No."

As the FBI joined the investigation, Nancy's property became a recurring crime scene that first week, released and then re-sealed numerous times. During windows of access, our own crews walked up to see the blood spots on the front porch later confirmed to belong to Nancy.

"Remember it was a search and rescue mission in the first few hours, and we transitioned that over to a criminal investigation," Nanos said during the news conference. "With that, brought in our partners from the FBI."  

DNA evidence recovered from inside Nancy's home was sent to a private lab in Florida. The sheriff turned down an offer for the FBI's headquarters in Quantico, Virginia. 

In our Feb. 17, Sheriff Nanos pushed back, refuting rumors that he delayed federal involvement or chose the wrong lab to process evidence.

"They were never not a part of the investigation. They were always a part of it and to suggest that the sheriff blocked evidence, that is just crazy."

What Nanos did reveal to us that day is a forensic snag that could stall the investigation. Samples of DNA recovered from Nancy’s home aren’t a "clean" match, but instead a biological puzzle that could take months to decipher.

"We have DNA from that scene that is a mixture of DNAs. So, we have to separate, hope the lab can do that, and still preserve some of that evidence in case the defense wants to test it should we make an arrest."

"Well, I would say that we have used private labs in the past for things, but the FBI is working on the case with you, and they have the best forensic lab in the world. And it's at no cost to you, because you pay it with your tax dollars," said Richard Carmona.

Carmona’s resume is elite. He worked at the Pima County Sheriff’s Department for more than 30 years, serving as a deputy sheriff, detective, SWAT team leader and medical commander. 

He also reached the highest medical office in the land as the 17th U.S. Surgeon General. When Nanos was elected as sheriff in 2020, Carmona retired shortly after.

"We’re managing a senior citizen who's lost and a sheriff who seems to have lost his way." 

Carmona had also used the word incompetent a few times. We asked him if that’s how his colleagues feel in law enforcement. 

"Most of my colleagues here that I've spoken to here, both in the federal agencies as well as state agencies, use that term. And it's not my term. It's a term that's repeated here that based on the actions that are seen on TV, in press conferences, and the interactions with other law enforcement, they have described them as being incompetent because it is not the way an investigation should run."

When asked how exactly has the sheriff mishandled the case, Carmona replied, "For those first few weeks, there kept being these distractions where we're spending more time on what the sheriff said or didn't say. Like when he made the comment that he's not used to being held accountable for what he says. We were all aghast. How could you say that on TV?"

"When I see the pizza delivery man walking in, and I see people taking pictures in the crime scene, the first thing that comes to mind is, well, somebody must have released that crime scene. Because otherwise, you have officers at all the points around, and you're not allowed to come into the crime scene. So, there is a cadence that is followed to ensure the veracity of all of the evidence that is acquired. In this case, it seems that it was compromised based on the public reports we've seen," said Carmona.

And when the investigation first began, confusion tangled the case. Bizarre ransom notes weren’t sent to law enforcement, but to local media and TMZ, demanding millions in cryptocurrency for Nancy's safe return.

"An hour and a half ago we got kind of a bizarre letter. An email from somebody who says they know who the kidnapper is and that they have tried reaching Savannah’s sister Annie and Savannah’s brother to no avail."

The FBI initially announced a $50,000 reward for information leading to Nancy’s location or an arrest in the case. 

Her children made it clear they wanted to talk to her kidnapper. Savannah and her siblings were willing to pay the ransom – if they could just see Nancy alive.

For a moment, a pair of gloves found two miles away offered hope. They looked identical to the ones on the doorbell camera, but the DNA profile was not in the FBI’s national database nor did it match any evidence at the crime scene.

Meanwhile, detectives are homing in on three critical dates linked to Nancy's abduction: January 11, January 31, and February 1.

They also must comb through a digital haystack, thousands of hours of surveillance videos – showing cars drive through the Catalina Foothills area between midnight and dawn the day Nancy disappeared. But at the root of it all – trying to unmask the armed man with the Ozark backpack, stalking Nancy’s doorstep.

"They ask me, ‘Do I have proof of life?’ I ask them, ‘Is there proof of death?’ I'm going to have that faith," said Carmona.

When asked if, in his mind, has this become a recovery mission when it comes to Nancy Guthrie, he replied, "I don't want to say recovery, it's an active investigation. The issue is that for an elderly lady who has medical problems, on medication to sustain life, what's the likelihood, unless she has some benevolent captor who's feeding her and giving her medicine, you know, that's the problem. So, the further out you get, the less likely it is it will be a happy ending." 

A roller coaster of developments

At the heart of this mystery is a devastated family. Since the night 84-year-old Nancy Guthrie vanished, her kids have led the charge, using social media to post emotional pleas and offer an unprecedented $1 million reward. 

But with countless shares and weeks of silence, some leads raised more questions than answers. 

"Everyone is looking for you mommy – everywhere," Savannah said in an Instagram post.

The Guthrie family’s plea for answers -- liked, shared, re-posted on social media. A family and a nation united in two desperate missions: unmasking those responsible and above all – bringing Nancy Guthrie home. 

Each video -- words of heartache – from children to their mother. 
 
"Momma. If you’re listening, we need to come home. We miss you." 

And to whoever took her.

"Whoever is out there holding our mother, we want to hear from you," said Camron Guthrie. 

Outside Nancy’s home, time is measured in the layers of tributes left at the curb. Yellow flowers as a symbol of hope, next to messages and prayers for her safe return. But the Tucson community is still asking: where is Nancy? 

Yolie Deleon said, "We’re heartbroken. It’s really affected everyone in our community. I imagine everyone in the nation." 

"What we’re here to do is to be supportive and the Tucson community does that," said Phoebe Chalk-Wadsworth. 

The Guthrie family is leaning on the community not just for support, but for information.

"We need to know where she is. We need her to come home. For that reason, we are offering a family reward of up to $1 million for any information that leads us to her recovery," said Savannah on her Instagram page. 

10 days after Nancy's disappearance, investigators followed a lead to Rio Rico, a small border town about an hour south of Tucson. 

Carlos Palazuelos was working as a delivery driver when he was detained by police, only hours after the FBI released photos of a suspect from Nancy's doorbell camera the morning she disappeared.

"Right now, all I know is they showed my in-law a photo of somebody wearing a mask or something, and they supposedly looked like my eyes," said Palazuelos. 

Palazuelos says he was questioned by police and then released. A case of mistaken identity – that left him shaken. 

"Terrifying. Something I didn’t do," Luke Daley told Fox News. "I felt like I was being kidnapped bro, because they didn’t tell me anything at the beginning." 

Three days later, authorities made their next move. A multi-agency SWAT raid targeted a neighborhood about two miles from Nancy's home. Nearby, FBI agents searched a Range Rover in a restaurant parking lot.

Though three people were detained that night, the sheriff’s department released all of them hours later. One of them was Luke Daley, who described the moments he was stopped at a local restaurant.

"I was thinking that I was being framed," said Daley. "I was thinking I was panicking. I was thinking that they're trying to pin this on me. I mean, it was a nightmare."

To Daley, it’s still unclear why investigators chose him, or if he’s still under suspicion. 

We asked him if he’s still considered a person of interest. 

"I don't know. I don't even know why I was a person of interest in the first place. They wouldn't tell me. So, I have no idea."

The Pima County Sheriff's Department said the Guthrie family, including all siblings and spouses, were cleared as possible suspects.

These were moments where it felt like the truth was finally within reach. Surveillance video and DNA evidence offered the community hope that investigators were onto something. But weeks later, the Guthries and the Tucson community are left with the unknown. No sign of Nancy, or if she’s okay. But they’ve made one thing clear: they aren’t giving up searching for her.

"Please keep praying without ceasing. We still believe. We still believe in a miracle. We still believe that she can come home." 

Evolution of true-crime livestreaming and tracking high-profile cases

Within days, the search for Nancy Guthrie hit a fever pitch. But it’s not just legacy media in Tucson – an army of true crime streamers has descended on the scene, transforming the investigation into a 24-hour digital studio.

It’s no secret – true crime content brings in eyes, clicks, and even money. Just ask Gigi McKelvey, host of the "Pretty Lies and Alibis" podcast.

"I think the reason a lot of people are so invested in true crime is because, to them, it’s like a reality show that’s 24/7, especially when there’s a suspect still out there or the crime hasn’t been solved." 

The disappearance of Nancy Guthrie has it all, along with a 24-hour news cycle and the presence of dozens of true crime streamers and podcasters descending upon Tucson – they've turned Nancy Guthrie’s Catalina Foothills neighborhood into their own studio.

McKelvey, who covers many cases for her Pretty Lies and Alibis podcast, chose not to come to Arizona. But she did watch from afar, observing what she says was great reporting from some true crime sleuths, but also concerning behavior from others, like doxxing of innocent people. 

"For example, when that very first raid happened," she said. "It was a matter of minutes before there were 50 people with the same name with their names, their addresses, their phone numbers, their workplaces, even their schools online and these people had nothing to do with the case."  

That spread of false information, not just damaging, but often permanent – once online. 

"You can have a very small channel, you don’t have to have 100,000 followers, if it’s good enough, it’s gonna spread, and it’s a non-stop snowball downhill, it takes on its own form, and the person who put it out there can’t delete every retweet or every screen grab." 

And while our digital age has created a more nonstop approach to desktop detective work, it can also fuel more speculation at a time when facts matter.

"For as long as there has been crime, there have been people who have wanted to insert themselves into the crime for a variety of reasons," said true crime historian and author Kate Winkler Dawson. She says community involvement in cases has been happening long before the internet.

"My first book is set in 1952 London about a smog that killed 12,000 people, but there was a serial killer caught in the middle of this smog," she said. "While he was on the run, the Notting Hill Police Department received, I think it was 2,000 snail mail letters and phone calls."

Dawson says these tips, which are often red herrings, gum up investigations, as does endless chatter and unfettered access – as seen at times in the Guthrie case.

"I don’t think it was helpful to have a pizza delivery man show up at her door," she said. "Those are the kinds of things that make a case like this, it’s too touchable." 

The false information shared in the Guthrie case even caught the attention of an Arizona lawmaker. 

"We have individuals who, quite frankly, don’t care about the individual involved because, based on the rhetoric and things that they’re doing, they’re just trying to become famous on social media," said State Representative Alma Hernandez, a Democrat from Legislative District 20. "These are just individuals who are grifting off of this, and it’s sad because we have a real family that is being impacted in our community." 

And while the mainstream media continues to shed light on this case, McKelvey hopes more streamers and podcasters choose to cover true crime ethically, and set standards for themselves – as she has. 

"If law enforcement or two independent legacy media sources did not say it, I don’t put it out there," she said. "Leave the speculation and rumor at the door, and if you think it, say it in your house, but not on the internet, because people eat it up, and then it’s taken as fact and the truth unfortunately sometimes falls by the wayside."

Investigative expert panel weighs in