NEWS BREAK: NANCY GUTHRIE DISAPPEARANCE - IS THE SON 'IN' LAW INVOLVED?

There's a stunning twist in the kidnapping of "TODAY" anchor Savannah Guthrie's mother Nancy ... her son-in-law might be the prime suspect, according to Ashleigh Banfield. Banfield — the former host of Banfield on News Nation — reported Tuesday night ... Tommaso Cioni — has been identified by police as the possible suspect in the case, citing a law enforcement source.

The veteran journalist says Cioni is married to Savannah's sister Annie -- and the two were the last people to see Nancy on Saturday night. Annie reportedly had dinner with Nancy that night ... but it's unclear if Cioni was also present. As you know, Nancy's family called police Sunday after they got word she didn't show up to her regular Sunday church service.

Now, Banfield says investigators have towed Annie's car, which has "some connection" to 50-year-old Cioni. Banfield adds that all the cameras at Nancy's Tucson, Arizona home were smashed in.

Earlier Tuesday, News Nation published a video showing a trail of blood leading to the front steps of Nancy's house. The Los Angeles Times also reports that blood was found at the crime scene, which belonged to Nancy.

TMZ was sent an alleged ransom note from an unknown person or persons who demanded payment in exchange for Nancy's release. The Pima County Sheriff's Department and the FBI are investigating whether the note is authentic...

NEWS BREAK: THE ABDUCTION OF NANCY GUTHRIE

Authorities expressed concern that time could be running out for Nancy Guthrie as they search for the missing mother of three. Nancy, the 84-year-old mother of broadcast journalist Savannah Guthrie, was last seen at her Arizona home on Saturday, Jan. 31 The Pima County Sheriff’s Department has classified the home as a crime scene, citing what officials described as “very concerning” conditions.

Authorities are concerned that time could be running out for Nancy Guthrie, the 84-year-old mother of Savannah Guthrie, who has now been missing for more than 48 hours.

"It is a race against time, and I hope that window hasn’t closed," Pima County Sheriff Chris Nanos told NBC's Liz Kreutz in a new interview for the Today show aired on Tuesday, Feb.3.

Authorities in Arizona are investigating the disappearance of the mother of three after she was reported missing by family over the weekend. Police are still appealing to the public for help as they currently have no solid leads. Sheriff Nanos said that authorities currently believe Nancy was "abducted," defining the term as: "When you’re taken from your bed and you don’t want to go somewhere, that’s an abduction."

The Pima County Sheriff Department later clarified to NBC News that Nanos meant his phrasing figuratively, adding that he "did not mean that she was literally taken from her bed."

Nancy was last seen around 9:30 p.m. on Saturday, Jan. 31 at her home near East Skyline Drive and North Campbell Avenue. The Pima County Sheriff’s Department later classified the home as a crime scene, citing what officials described as “very concerning” conditions. Nanos told NBC, "We took some samples that we hope would have profile of a DNA, profile that gives us some identification as to what we’re looking at."

Sheriff Nanos previously told reporters that Nancy has “no cognitive issues” and is “very alert, she’s of good, sound mind.” However, Nanos also noted that Nancy is “not in good physical health.”

According to the sheriff, Nancy also depends on medication that could become life-threatening if she goes without it for more than 24 hours. On Monday, Feb. 2, the sheriff told reporters that investigators believe a crime occurred, describing the case as more of a "crime scene" than a "search mission," and saying authorities want the public's help.

As part of the investigation, authorities are reviewing surveillance footage and license plate readers, along with coordinating searches. “We know she didn’t just walk out of there,” Nanos said at a press conference, adding that the department is asking for the public’s help.

Savannah, 54, did not appear on the Today show on Feb. 2 or 3, as she is currently with her family in Arizona amidst the investigation. On Monday night, the journalist took to Instagram urging her followers to "please pray."

On Tuesday, co-host Carson Daly shared, "I hit my knees and prayed and I don't think I've ever prayed for anything harder in my life."

Savannah released a statement to the Today show, which her colleagues read during the broadcast. "On behalf of our family, I want to thank everyone for the thoughts, prayers, and messages of support. Right now, our focus remains on the safe return of our dear mom."

The sheriff confirmed that the Guthrie family has been fully cooperative throughout the investigation and that the FBI is also assisting.


The PCSD describes Nancy as a female with brown hair and blue eyes. She is 5 feet 5 inches tall and weighs around 150 lbs. Anyone with information is asked to contact the Pima County Sheriff’s Department at 520-351-4900...

A QUIET NEIGHBORHOOD: THE TEPE DOUBLE HOMICIDE

True‑crime stories often unfold in the most ordinary places. In Columbus, Ohio, the murders of Spencer and Monique Tepe turned a quiet Weinland Park street into a scene of grief and questions. For days after the couple was found shot to death on December 30, 2025, the case felt like a riddle with missing pieces. Then, in mid‑January, the investigation took a decisive turn: police arrested Monique’s ex‑husband, Dr. Michael David McKee, in Illinois and charged him in connection with the killings. 

The discovery of the bodies, according to local reports, came after friends and coworkers couldn’t reach the couple. Police found Spencer and Monique shot inside their home; their two young children were physically unharmed. There were no signs of forced entry or theft, only a sense that the violence had been precise and deeply personal. Early on, investigators released a sliver of surveillance footage and asked the public for tips, while confirming the killings likely happened in the predawn hours. The uncertainty only intensified interest. 

On January 10, 2026, federal agents took McKee into custody near his workplace in Rockford, Illinois. Columbus police said a silver SUV seen on neighborhood cameras arriving near the Tepes’ home before the shootings and leaving shortly afterward was traced to McKee through distinctive features and license plate clues that linked the vehicle to addresses in Illinois and to his hospital. He was arrested without incident and, days later, a Franklin County grand jury indicted him on four counts of aggravated murder and one count of aggravated burglary; he has pleaded not guilty. 

Court filings unsealed the following weeks expanded the picture prosecutors intend to present. An affidavit describes weeks of alleged stalking behavior and cites witnesses who told detectives that Monique had long confided fears about McKee, including allegations of abuse, strangulation, and threats that he could kill her at any time and that she would “always be his wife.” Investigators also say video placed McKee on the couple’s property on December 6, while the Tepes were out of town at the Big Ten Championship game—an incident that friends recalled because Monique abruptly left the outing, upset about something involving her ex‑husband. 

Detectives say the investigation then pivoted on forensics and digital breadcrumbs. In a press briefing, Columbus Police Chief Elaine Bryant said that a firearm recovered from McKee’s Chicago residence preliminarily matched evidence from the crime scene through a national ballistics database, reinforcing what the surveillance trail suggested about a targeted attack. Meanwhile, phone records indicated McKee’s device was inactive for roughly seventeen hours spanning the window of the murders, which investigators believe occurred around 3:50 a.m. on December 30. The absence of forced entry, the lack of a recovered weapon at the home, and the presence of the couple’s children and dog—unharmed—added to the portrait of a planned, intimate crime rather than a random invasion. 

Local and national outlets have since chronicled the shockwaves through the community, highlighting friends’ memories of the couple and advocates’ reminders that abuse can hide in plain sight. In interviews, those who knew Monique described her warmth and resilience, while officials emphasized that tips from the public and neighborhood video were crucial to moving the case from mystery to arrest. The case, now squarely in the courts, remains active, and McKee’s legal team has entered not‑guilty pleas while declining detailed comment on the allegations. 

As winter deepens, the story has shifted from “who did this?” to “how will the evidence hold up?” Forensic testing continues, and prosecutors will now be tasked with turning an array of surveillance clips, phone gaps, and ballistics hits into a cohesive narrative that answers the hardest question of all: why. For the Tepes’ family, the arrest offers the first fragile outline of accountability, though the ache of an empty home and two children’s altered futures can’t be undone by a docket number. The neighborhood remains changed by what happened behind a familiar front door, and the city watches as the case moves toward trial—an intimate tragedy entering its public phase, where each quiet fact must carry the weight of two stolen lives... 

THE BLACK DAHLIA: JANUARY'S DARKEST UNSOLVED MYSTERY

January in Los Angeles is usually mild, a month of cool breezes and golden sunsets. But in 1947, the city woke to a horror that would haunt its history forever. On the morning of January 15, a young mother walking through Leimert Park with her child spotted what she thought was a discarded mannequin in a vacant lot. As she drew closer, the truth froze her blood: it was the mutilated body of Elizabeth Short, a 22-year-old aspiring actress. Her corpse had been severed at the waist, drained of blood, and grotesquely posed. Her mouth had been slashed from ear to ear, creating a ghastly “Joker smile.”

The press dubbed her The Black Dahlia, a name inspired by the film The Blue Dahlia and her penchant for wearing black. The murder shocked the nation—not only for its brutality but for the eerie precision of the mutilation. Investigators believed the killer had surgical skill. Theories swirled: a spurned lover, a Hollywood insider, a sadistic doctor. Over 150 suspects were questioned, and dozens of false confessions poured in, but no one was ever charged.

The case became a media circus. Reporters trampled evidence, leaked rumors, and even answered police tip lines, muddying the investigation. Some detectives suspected links to other gruesome killings, like the Cleveland Torso Murders, but nothing was proven. Over the decades, theories multiplied—mob connections, secret affairs, even ties to occult practices—but the truth remains elusive.

The Black Dahlia murder is more than a crime; it’s a cultural obsession. Books, films, and documentaries revisit the case year after year, trying to piece together the puzzle. Yet, nearly eight decades later, Elizabeth Short’s killer remains a phantom. Every January, the anniversary casts a long shadow over Hollywood—a chilling reminder that beneath the glamour lies darkness, and some mysteries refuse to die...

THE DISAPPEARANCE OF ACTRESS JEAN SPANGLER

Hollywood in the late 1940s was a world of glittering premieres and whispered scandals—a dream factory where ambition could turn into fame overnight, or vanish without a trace. Among the hopefuls was Jean Spangler, a striking young actress with a smile that could light up a room. She had appeared in small roles in films like Young Man with a Horn and Chicken Every Sunday, and though her name wasn’t yet on marquees, she was determined to make it big.

On the evening of October 7, 1949, Jean kissed her five-year-old daughter goodbye and told her sister she was heading out to meet her ex-husband to discuss child support, then to work on a night shoot. She never returned. When she failed to come home, her family reported her missing. Two days later, hikers in Griffith Park stumbled upon her purse. Inside was a cryptic note:

"Kirk: Can’t wait any longer. Going to see Dr. Scott. It will work best this way while mother is away."

The note ignited a firestorm of speculation. Who was Kirk? Many assumed Kirk Douglas, the rising star who had recently worked with Jean. Douglas admitted knowing her but denied any involvement, claiming he was filming out of town. And who was Dr. Scott? Was it a physician? An abortionist? At the time, abortion was illegal and often linked to dangerous underground networks. Theories swirled, fueled by Hollywood’s reputation for secrecy and scandal.

Police launched an intensive search across Los Angeles. Detectives questioned Jean’s ex-husband, Dexter Benner, who claimed he had not seen her that night and had an alibi. They interviewed Kirk Douglas, who insisted he barely knew Jean and was on location during her disappearance. Both men were cleared, but the note kept investigators guessing.

The name “Dr. Scott” led detectives into the murky world of illegal abortions—a grim reality in post-war Hollywood. Rumors suggested Jean might have been pregnant and seeking a procedure while her mother was out of town. Police combed through medical records and questioned known abortionists, but no one admitted to seeing her. The theory remained plausible but unproven.

Then came whispers of organized crime. Jean was rumored to have dated a man tied to gambling syndicates operating in Los Angeles. Detectives explored connections to mob figures, suspecting she might have stumbled into something dangerous. But again, the trail went cold.

Witnesses reported seeing Jean at a local market the night she vanished, appearing calm and unhurried. Beyond that, there were no confirmed sightings. No body was ever found. No definitive evidence surfaced. The case became front-page news, a grim reminder that in Hollywood, dreams could vanish as quickly as they appeared.

Over the decades, the case has inspired countless theories. Some believe Jean fell victim to a botched abortion. Others suspect foul play tied to organized crime. A few even claim she fled to start a new life. But with no body and no closure, the truth remains elusive.

Jean Spangler’s story endures because it embodies the paradox of Hollywood’s Golden Age: a world of glamour and ambition shadowed by secrecy and danger. Her smile once lit up the silver screen; now, it haunts the annals of unsolved mysteries—a starlet who walked into the night and never came back...

TRUE CRIME: ENTERTAINMENT OR DISSERVICE

True crime, a genre that discusses and portrays nonfictional crimes, is a mainstay of American culture. An early example is the 1893 trial of Lizzie Borden, a woman tried and ultimately acquitted of the brutal murder of her father and stepmother. As the trial progressed, newspapers flew off the shelves and the question of whether she was guilty became a hot teatime topic. It may have marked one of the first crimes sensationalized within American media, but it was far from the last.

In an era of social media and biopics, true crime has evolved from something we see or read about in the news to dramatized shows portraying criminals as protagonists and entire podcasts dedicated to their crimes.

In real life, and in the series, many of Dahmer’s victims were people of color — whose deaths are often treated differently in the media or not investigated as deeply because of racism or other factors. The victims of these crimes had lives and families, yet they were reduced to a few episodes of screen time and fake limbs in some kid’s trick-or-treat basket. It’s not just podcasters or Hollywood producers, it’s true crime culture itself that is wrong — and it could even be inspiring others to replicate the violent acts they see and hear about.

Podcast juggernauts like Stephanie Soo of Rotten Mango rack up millions of views per episode, though not without being in full glam. It’s not necessarily the fact Soo and others discuss these crimes that’s worrisome, but the fact they seem to do so without a care in the world for those affected.

Soo has been criticized by viewers for her older “mukbang”-style true crime videos where she would eat copious amounts of food while discussing the tragic deaths — including often murders — of innocent people. The family and friends of these “cases” are often still alive and may have no idea that the brutal murder of their loved one is about to be discussed in excruciating detail over lunch.

True crime podcasts are disrespectful, but not as egregious as media like Monsters, which dramatizes the lives of real-life killers. One article on the website CrimeReads written by the cousin of a murder victim describes what it is like to have your family’s personal tragedy be used for entertainment and how it leaves families “sitting at home, shuddering with rage and horror as their greatest trauma is repackaged into a titillating narrative for you to consume with dinner.”

Shows and movies that depict killers walk a fine line between documentation and glorification. In its first season, Monster accumulated 1 billion hours viewed in 60 days and became the second most viewed English language show on the platform at one point, according to Netflix. The show included graphic depictions of how Dahmer abused his victims before and after their deaths — without notification or consent of the surviving family members, some families say.

Rita Isbell and Eric Perry, sister and cousin of 19-year-old Dahmer victim Errol Lindsey, called the show “retraumatizing” and “harsh and careless” in statements published in The Hollywood Reporter in 2022.

Another ripple effect of true crime can be seen in the number of copycats and seeming fans of the Columbine High School massacre, which shocked the American consciousness in 1999.

“The Columbine effect” partly describes what happens when people glorify Columbine shooters Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold or try to replicate their attack. One investigation from Mother Jones in 2019 documented “the Columbine effect” in 100 plots and attacks across the U.S.

At least one such case may have nodded to the 2003 film Zero Day, which was based on Harris and Klebold’s story, including the “basement tapes” they had filmed chronicling their plans before the mass shooting. Earlier this year, 17-year-old Solomon Henderson shot up his high school in Nashville, Tenn., killing one person and injuring another before ending his own life after writing in his online diary about wanting to shoot his mother “before Zero Day.”

Henderson, who was online with another shooter who seemed to idolize Columbine, stated on the internet several times that the Columbine killers had “style” and reposted fan art of the shooters.

The names of killers live on in infamy, while their victims seem to fade into obscurity and become footnotes in history. True crime can downplay the severity of violent acts that are selfish and depraved. Everybody gets to consume and create whatever they want. But if you or someone you loved were the victim of a tragic crime, would you be OK with someone creating content from it and profiting off of it?

THE MYSTERY OF ATLANTIS - PART TWO

For centuries, Atlantis was dismissed as a philosophical allegory, a cautionary tale about hubris. Yet modern science and archaeology are uncovering clues that suggest Plato’s account may have roots in reality. The most compelling evidence lies beneath the waters off southern Spain, near Cádiz—a region long associated with the ancient Tartessos culture. Here, sonar and LiDAR scans have revealed three submerged concentric walls carved into the seabed, eerily similar to the layout Plato described. At the center of these rings lies a rectangular monument, possibly the Temple of Poseidon, surrounded by sculpted canals and massive stone blocks displaced by what appears to have been a violent cataclysm. Geological analysis dates these formations to roughly 11,600 years ago, aligning with Plato’s timeline and the end of the last Ice Age—a period marked by rising seas and catastrophic floods.

Additional discoveries strengthen the case. In 2015, marine archaeologists recovered 39 ingots of orichalcum from a shipwreck off Sicily—the very metal Plato claimed adorned Atlantis’s walls and temples. This rare alloy, once thought mythical, now exists as tangible proof of advanced metallurgy in antiquity. Satellite imagery near Cádiz has revealed rectangular structures and concentric rings in a salt marsh, while rock carvings in Iberia depict boats and horses overwhelmed by waves, alongside illustrations of a circular city. These carvings suggest cultural memory of a great flood and a lost civilization.

Underwater ruins near Salmedina Island add another layer to the mystery. Massive stone structures, some walls towering over twenty feet high, lie buried beneath the sea. Researchers estimate these ruins are more than 11,000 years old, predating known civilizations in Europe. Recent studies even point to a submerged mountain range off the Canary Islands, named Mount Los Atlantes, which could mark the western edge of Plato’s fabled island.

Theories abound. Some scholars argue Atlantis was Tartessos, an advanced culture in Andalusia that thrived before being wiped out by floods. Others link it to the Minoan civilization, devastated by the eruption of Thera around 1600 BCE—a disaster that echoes Plato’s description of sudden destruction. Still others speculate that Atlantis was a memory of multiple events: rising seas, volcanic eruptions, and earthquakes during the chaotic transition from the Ice Age to the modern climate.

What makes these findings so compelling is their convergence. Plato’s timeline coincides with the Younger Dryas—a period of abrupt climate change and massive flooding. His description of Atlantis’s engineering marvels mirrors what sonar and satellite imagery now reveal beneath Spanish waters. And the discovery of orichalcum, once thought mythical, suggests that ancient metallurgy was far more advanced than previously believed.

Perhaps Atlantis was real—a thriving society erased by nature’s fury. Or perhaps it remains a cautionary tale, reminding us that even the greatest civilizations can fall when arrogance overshadows wisdom. Until the ocean gives up its secrets, Atlantis will remain a shimmering phantom—a dream of perfection, a warning of downfall, and a mystery that binds the past to the present...