The disappearance of Nancy Guthrie, the 84-year-old mother of NBC’s Today show co-anchor Savannah Guthrie, has gripped the nation since early February 2026. What began as a routine missing person report has escalated into a high-profile investigation treated as a possible abduction or kidnapping, complete with blood evidence, tampered security systems, towed vehicles, and swirling speculation about family involvement. Authorities from the Pima County Sheriff’s Department, assisted by the FBI, continue an exhaustive search across the Tucson area, yet no arrests have been made, and the clock ticks relentlessly for a vulnerable elderly woman who relies on essential medications and has known mobility challenges.

Nancy Guthrie vanished from her home in the affluent Catalina Foothills neighborhood outside Tucson, Arizona. She was last seen on the evening of January 31, 2026, after enjoying a family dinner and game night at the home of her eldest daughter, Annie Guthrie, and son-in-law Tommaso Cioni. Cioni, 50, reportedly drove Nancy home around 9:50 p.m., ensuring she was safely inside before departing. The next morning, when Nancy failed to appear at her regular church service—a weekly ritual she never missed—alarm bells rang. Family members checked her residence around 11 a.m., found the house eerily quiet, and called 911 by noon. What they discovered inside transformed a family concern into a full-scale criminal probe.

Investigators quickly designated Nancy’s home a crime scene. A trail of blood—confirmed by authorities to belong to Nancy—was found on the front porch and leading toward the entrance. The back door stood wide open, suggesting a possible point of entry or exit. More disturbingly, security measures that should have captured the events of that fateful night were compromised. Multiple Nest cameras throughout the property had been disabled or damaged. While the Pima County Sheriff, Chris Nanos, has carefully avoided confirming that cameras were “smashed,” journalist Ashleigh Banfield—citing a high-level law enforcement source—reported that all security cameras at the home were deliberately destroyed, eliminating any visual record of the intrusion. This detail alone has amplified fears: whoever took Nancy knew the layout of her security system and acted with chilling precision.

Adding to the intrigue, at approximately 1:47 a.m. on February 1, Nancy’s doorbell camera was disconnected. Just 25 minutes later, at 2:12 a.m., motion was detected by surveillance software, but no footage was retained due to the lack of a premium subscription. By 2:28 a.m., Nancy’s pacemaker app disconnected from her phone—an ominous sign given her medical dependencies. These timestamps paint a picture of a late-night assault, swift and calculated, leaving investigators racing against time to piece together what happened in those critical hours.

The investigation has expanded rapidly. The FBI joined early, bringing federal resources to analyze digital evidence, cell phone data, and potential ransom communications. A purported ransom note surfaced, demanding payment for Nancy’s safe return, though authorities are vetting its authenticity amid concerns of hoax attempts. Surveillance footage from a nearby Circle K convenience store—located just half a mile from Annie and Tommaso’s residence—was turned over to detectives after reports of a “vehicle of interest” in the area. Search teams have scoured nearby desert landscapes, checked septic tanks and manholes at Nancy’s property, and followed leads that have taken them far beyond the immediate neighborhood.

One of the most talked-about developments involves a vehicle towed from the scene. Investigators impounded a car belonging to Annie Guthrie, which Banfield’s source linked to Tommaso Cioni. Banfield, on her Drop Dead Serious podcast, described the tow as significant, noting “some connection” between the vehicle and the 50-year-old Cioni. She went further, quoting her “impeccable” law enforcement contact as saying Cioni “may be the prime suspect now.” This claim ignited a media firestorm, with speculation flooding social platforms and news outlets about possible motives within the family circle.

Cioni, an Italian-born AP biology teacher at BASIS Oro Valley in Tucson, has been married to Annie for years. Annie, a published poet and former marketing director at the University of Arizona Poetry Center, lives nearby with her husband in a quiet Tucson residence. The couple were among the last to see Nancy alive, having hosted her for dinner that Saturday. Authorities have interviewed them extensively—Cioni reportedly met with detectives for hours—and law enforcement activity has been spotted at their home, including federal agents examining devices. Yet Sheriff Nanos has repeatedly pushed back against naming any suspects, calling Banfield’s reporting “reckless” and insisting no person of interest has been publicly identified. “Everybody’s still a suspect until we rule them out,” he emphasized in press conferences, underscoring the standard protocol of scrutinizing those closest to the victim first.

The Guthrie family dynamics add layers to the story. Nancy raised three accomplished children: Savannah, the nationally recognized journalist; Camron, a retired F-16 fighter pilot; and Annie, the creative soul with a deep connection to literature and the arts. Savannah has been vocal in public pleas, sharing emotional updates on social media and during Today segments, begging for her mother’s return and offering a reward for information. The siblings issued a joint statement affirming their willingness to pay any legitimate ransom, while stressing Nancy’s fragility—she depends on daily medications and uses mobility aids. Her absence without them is unthinkable.

Public fascination has only grown with each twist. Paparazzi captured rare images of Annie and Tommaso driving together in Tucson, their faces shielded, amid the scrutiny. Online forums buzz with theories: Was it a targeted home invasion? A random act by someone familiar with Nancy’s routine? Or something more personal? The smashed cameras, the open door, the blood trail—all point to violence, yet no body has been found, and authorities maintain hope she remains alive.

As the case enters its second week, the search intensifies. Ground teams comb rugged terrain near Oracle and Catalina Foothills, drones scan from above, and digital forensics teams pore over data. Border Patrol has assisted in perimeter checks, given Arizona’s geography, though no cross-border links have been confirmed. Every lead, from the impounded vehicle to the disconnected pacemaker, is being chased relentlessly.

For the Guthrie family, the agony is profound. A beloved matriarch—described by Savannah as the “anchor” of their faith and love—vanished in the dead of night from the sanctuary of her own home. The unanswered questions haunt: Who disconnected the cameras? Why the blood? What ties, if any, does the towed car hold? And most urgently—where is Nancy now?

Investigators urge anyone with information to come forward. A $50,000 reward stands for tips leading to her safe return. In a region known for its clear skies and quiet nights, the shadow of this mystery looms large, reminding us how quickly safety can shatter and how desperately a family waits for answers.

The nation watches, breathless, as the search for Nancy Guthrie continues—hoping against hope that she will be found alive, that justice will prevail, and that the truth behind those smashed cameras and that towed car will finally emerge from the darkness.