In the days leading up to her disappearance, 84-year-old Nancy Guthrie had been quietly but consistently mentioning “someone” to neighbors in the Catalina Foothills neighborhood—a person whose identity remains unknown and whose name she never fully disclosed. That revelation, shared by multiple residents in interviews with investigators and local media on February 3 and 4, 2026, has added a deeply unsettling layer to what Pima County Sheriff Chris Nanos has already described as a confirmed abduction from her bed while she slept.
Several neighbors who live within earshot of Nancy’s single-story home on a quiet cul-de-sac near Skyline Drive and Campbell Avenue told detectives they frequently heard her speaking on the phone or to herself in the yard about “that person” or “someone who keeps calling.” One longtime resident, who asked to remain anonymous for privacy, recalled overhearing Nancy in her front courtyard around mid-January: “She was saying something like, ‘I told that person I can’t walk without my medicine anymore… they keep asking anyway.’” Another neighbor walking her dog past the house on multiple evenings in late January reported hearing Nancy on a cordless phone near an open window, her voice carrying clearly: “No, I can’t do that… you know I can’t move without my pills.” The conversations were described as tense but not panicked—more frustrated or weary than frightened.
The comments are significant because Nancy’s mobility and medication dependency have been central to the investigation from the beginning. She suffers from a chronic cardiac condition requiring daily anti-arrhythmic drugs; missing even one dose can cause severe dizziness, fainting, or life-threatening irregular heart rhythms. She also relies on a walker for distances beyond a few steps inside her home. Sheriff Nanos has repeatedly stressed that Nancy “could not have left voluntarily without her walker, her phone, or her medication kit.” The fact that she was taken without any of these items—and without triggering the alarm or leaving signs of struggle—already pointed to a sophisticated removal. Now, neighbors’ accounts suggest she may have been in contact with someone who knew exactly how dependent she was on her pills—and perhaps exploited that vulnerability.
The mysterious “someone” has become a focal point. Investigators are urgently working to identify the individual through Nancy’s phone records (once the device is located), call logs from her landline, and any correspondence or notes in the home. No ransom demand has been received, no suspect has been publicly named, and no link to Savannah Guthrie’s public profile has been established. Yet the repeated references to this unnamed person—coupled with the cryptic folded paper bearing unknown symbols found in her untouched wallet—have led detectives to explore whether the abductor(s) had prior contact with Nancy, possibly building trust or creating dependency before acting.
The timeline remains stark. Nancy was last seen on her internal security camera at 9:40 p.m. on January 31, walking calmly before vanishing from frame. Family dropped her off around 9:45 p.m. after a visit. A hooded man was captured on a neighbor’s dashcam loitering around the property from 8:20 p.m. to 9:25 p.m., observing repeatedly before disappearing. When relatives checked at noon on February 1, the house was empty: bed unmade as if she had been lifted from it, back door ajar, living-room chair slightly displaced, bedside lamp cord unplugged, cellphone gone. All exterior doors and windows remained locked from inside, with no forced entry marks anywhere.
The lack of a visible breach continues to baffle experts. Theories include: a duplicate key obtained earlier, knowledge of the alarm code, an undetected secondary access point, or even a method involving minimal physical disturbance—such as carrying her out through an already-open door after disabling visible security features. Forensic teams have found only Nancy’s and family members’ fingerprints on high-touch surfaces; no foreign DNA has been confirmed yet, though testing on bedding, the pillow, and the nightstand is ongoing.
Search efforts have reached an extraordinary scale. More than 600 volunteers, K-9 teams (including cadaver dogs), thermal drones, FLIR-equipped helicopters, horseback units, and ground crews have covered over 50,000 acres of rugged terrain—from the Catalina Foothills to remote canyons in the Santa Catalina Mountains, dry washes, abandoned mines, and desert expanses up to 45 miles away. The operation continues 24/7 despite extreme conditions: daytime highs exceeding 85°F (29°C) and nighttime lows dropping below freezing.
Savannah Guthrie has remained in Tucson since Sunday, staying close to family and investigators. In a brief update through NBC she said: “We are holding onto every thread of hope. The kindness of this community, the tireless work of law enforcement, and every prayer mean more than we can say. If you heard her mention anyone, saw anything unusual, or have any footage—please share it. Time is everything.” She has been seen quietly comforting relatives at the search command post, occasionally speaking with deputies as leads are pursued.
The Catalina Foothills—once a haven of privacy and mountain views—now feels exposed. Neighbors who once exchanged casual waves are now exchanging worried glances and sharing stories of Nancy’s recent conversations. One resident told local reporters: “She always seemed so independent, but lately she looked tired… like she was carrying something heavy she couldn’t talk about.” Another added: “Hearing her say ‘that person’ over and over—it gives me chills now. I wish I’d asked who she meant.”
Sheriff Nanos has renewed his public appeal: “If you spoke with Mrs. Guthrie in the last few weeks and she mentioned a name, a caller, or anyone pressuring her—call us. If you saw the hooded individual on the dashcam footage, recognize the clothing, the walk, or the build—call us. Anonymity is assured.” The tip line has surpassed 1,200 submissions, with analysts prioritizing anything related to the mysterious “someone” she referenced.
The convergence of clues—the cryptic note in the untouched wallet, the prolonged external surveillance by the hooded figure, the sudden disappearance from internal camera view, the locked-house mystery, and now these neighbor accounts of a repeatedly mentioned unknown person—paints a picture of a targeted, patient, and possibly personal operation. Whether the “someone” is the hooded man, an accomplice, or someone else entirely remains unknown. What is clear is that Nancy’s dependence on her medication was no secret—and someone may have used that knowledge against her.
For Nancy’s family, the thought that she was taken silently from the one place she felt safest—her own bed—is almost unbearable. The peaceful home, now sealed behind crime-scene tape, stands as a silent witness: motion lights still clicking on at dusk, as if waiting for her to return and turn them off. The community of Tucson, joined by millions following the story, refuses to let hope fade. Every hour without Nancy deepens the urgency, but also the determination—to identify the hooded watcher, decode the hidden note, understand the impossible entry, trace the mysterious “someone” she spoke of, and bring her home before her medication runs out forever.
