Nancy Guthrie went missing two months ago. Why hasn't she been found?

TUCSON, AZ. — The desert air had fallen to the low 50s by the time Nancy Guthrie’s garage door went down for the night. It was Jan. 31, 2026, and the 84-year-old seemed tucked into her adobe-walled home nestled among the mesquite trees and saguaros of her quiet, mountain foothills neighborhood perched above the lights of Tucson. She’d spent her Saturday evening enjoying dinner and games with her daughter, Annie Guthrie, in the same community where she’d raised three children – the most famous of whom is Savannah Guthrie, a co-host of NBC’s “Today” show.

After dinner, Annie’s husband, Tommaso Cioni, drove her home. They wound several miles past low-slung homes with muted lighting that sprawled across the rocky landscape of the upscale suburb known for dark-sky views of the stars. At 9:48 p.m., he dropped her off, waiting until she was inside before driving away.

It marked a quiet end to a quiet day in a quiet life. An elderly woman who was dedicated to friends and family. Her garage door closed two minutes later.

It would be the last time anyone saw her. When the sun rose on the Catalina Foothills the next day, it would reveal a woman missing and a baffling mystery – and be followed by purported ransom demands echoing some of the most notorious kidnapping cases in American history. There would be clues.

A doorbell camera triggered at 1:47 a.m. A pacemaker monitoring app disconnected 41 minutes later. Blood on Spanish tiles of the front porch. It would launch hundreds of FBI and local investigators on a quest to find out how a barely mobile grandmother could disappear without a trace.

And for Savannah Guthrie and her family, it would start an excruciating wait that has lasted for two long months. A wait for evidence. A wait for answers.

A wait for their mother. Over that long stretch of time, the case would test Kash Patel’s FBI, a county sheriff facing mounting criticism, the limits of home surveillance, the complexities of DNA technology and the patience of an anguished family and their community. Loved ones knew that February day was that they were in a race against time to rescue Nancy, the octogenarian who doted on her grown children, wondered on social media about her plants and managed the mounting ailments of old age.

And who needed her medication each day to survive. A life built in the desert Nancy’s life has been rooted in faith and community. She’d landed in Tucson after growing up in northern Kentucky and studying journalism in college.

She’d started a family with her husband, Charles, a mining engineer whose work took them to Melbourne, Australia, where Savannah was born, before moving to Arizona for his work in 1973. The Guthries found a home in the Catalina Foothills, about 15 minutes outside of Tucson.

“This is the house that we grew up in, it’s really the only house I’ve ever known and remember. We moved there when I was about 4,” Savannah said in an interview with Hoda Kotb on “Today”.

“That's my mom’s safe haven.” It's the same home that 16-year-old Savannah returned to after Friday night with friends and learned her father had suffered a fatal heart attack. Nancy, now a single mother of three, had to find work and take care of those around her.

“She showed us how to survive the unimaginable,” Savannah said. Choosing to stay close to her mom, Savannah attended the University of Arizona and got her first TV news job in Tucson. Nancy worked at the University of Arizona, including as a University Medical Center spokeswoman and in the development office.

She was a “positive spirit,” retired vice provost Elizabeth Ervin told the Arizona Star. Nancy’s son Camron went on to become a member of the military and a fighter pilot; Annie a writer, poet and a jeweler. Savannah rose to the most coveted spots in morning television.

After her children were grown, Nancy lived alone but remained woven into the community. She made a mark in local churches including St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church, leaders there said. She played tennis and hiked, friends told the New York Times.

She also loved her favorite Mexican restaurant, El Charro Café, where she became friends with executive chef Carlotta Flores. Last November, she appeared there with her daughters Savannah and Annie for a “Today” segment celebrating Tucson. They shared lunch and sips of tequila from teacups. "

It's so wonderful – just the air, the quality of life is laid back and gentle," Nancy said about her hometown during the segment.

“I like to watch the javelina eat my plants.” On Nextdoor, she posted occasional questions including, “Is it time to cover plants?” ” one January.she wrote she was considering buying a doorbell camera.

“Interested in seeing animal activity at night,” she explained. Over time, she faced health challenges. She had a pacemaker and relied on daily medication.

With a bad back, she was often in tremendous pain, Savannah revealed. On a good day, she could walk to her mailbox. Yet she remained mentally sharp.

In the days before she went missing, she played mahjong with friends, read books and celebrated her birthday with beignets, friends told the New York Times. Savannah described her as strong, with a quiet faith and a mischievous sense of humor. On Sundays, her ritual was to gather at a friend’s house to watch an online service from a New York church attended by Savannah, keeping grape juice on hand for communion.

On Feb. 1, when she didn’t arrive on time around 11 a.m., friends alerted family members. Annie was soon at the house, a little before noon, but she didn’t find Nancy. The Pima County Sheriff’s Department arrived at the home at 12:15 p.m. There was a missing doorbell camera and blood, later confirmed to be Nancy’s, outside the front door.

The back door was propped open. Her phone and purse were still there. Savannah was having a day with family when Annie called in a panic, she recalled in a “Today” interview.

Annie had already called local hospitals.

“Is everything OK?” ” she asked Annie.

“No, mom's missing.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“She's gone.” Why would someone kidnap Nancy Guthrie? Five feet, four inches tall.

Brown hair. Blue eyes. About 150 pounds.

The missing person fliers would be distributed across the state and country, joining billboards that would be plastered along highways. Chris Nanos, the white-haired sheriff of Pima County, a law enforcement veteran who had worked his way up to lead the 1,500-person department, concluded what Savannah and her siblings had knew instantly: This was no silver alert. Nanos had worked on high-profile investigations before, including the 2011 shooting that killed six people and injured former Rep. Gabby Giffords.

But he’d never been in the glaring national spotlight like this. On Feb. 2, after Savannah's "

Today" show co-hosts shared the news of the disappearance to viewers, Nanos stepped in front of cameras for his first press conference in the case. He told reporters that search and rescue—using drones, heat sensors and helicopters—hadn't found the Nancy. The house, he said, was now a crime scene.